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everythingsinred · 3 years

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 18)

Hiya! I'm posting late, on account of my job. Editing these takes about an hour depending on the post and inserting the images takes a little more, but I didn't have a solid block of time to work on it, so I worked on it in pieces and I only just now finished.

This arc highlights Natsume's powerlessness. He's distancing himself from Mikan to protect her, but by doing this, he leaves her defenseless at times. He wants to be there for her but can't because of the corner he's been pushed into, and in his desperation he turns to anonymity.

Chapter Eighty-One

Hotaru, Natsume, and Ruka are running after them, but are caught by Tsubasa, who asks them what their plan is, exactly. Ruka turns to Natsume, who turns to Hotaru, who pretends she was just practicing her running for the Festival and then the boys started following her for no reason. This comic relief is a badly-needed break from all the bullying and blackmail of the arc so far.

This arc is full of fun comic relief, but the main plot is so depressing and frustrating that sometimes the comic relief is not enough.

In any case, all three of them know that the others are all working to take care of Mikan, even if she doesn't know it. They're all looking out for her in their own ways, even Natsume who seems to have publicly turned against her. At least Hotaru and Ruka can see the truth: he's still quite concerned about it, but he's in something of a bind now.

The next we see of Natsume, he’s walking with Tsubasa, being spied on by both Hotaru and Ruka. It’s here that we discover that Tsubasa has been transferred to the DA class, but is keeping this secret from Mikan. Moreover, he and Natsume are on a mission to locate Yuka, and they’re both aware that Mikan is her daughter. It’s interesting to know just how much information the DA class has on the other students that the other kids have no clue about. Hotaru and Ruka are shocked by this information, but for us as readers, it also demonstrates just how much work Natsume--and Tsubasa--are putting into protecting Mikan.

All this information is stuff they have to consider on their missions. They want to protect Yuka, because she’s Mikan’s mother, but they have no choice but to pursue and chase after her with raids and attacks. On top of that, Tsubasa is keeping his new ability class a secret, and Natsume has to hurt her with this Luna farce. It’s a lot to put on two kids, not that the ESP or Persona have much issue putting pressure on kids.

For Natsume in particular, it was fun while it lasted, being close to Mikan. He had relished and enjoyed it, and now he has to change pace. He’s willing to, because that’s how he can keep her smiling and having fun, even if he’s not on her team and can’t even be in her inner circle anymore. He’s willing to sacrifice anything for her, but we can see that it’s not any fun for him. Mikan is suffering in sadness, yes, but so is Natsume.

The next thing he has to do only makes things worse.

He confronts Mikan about the rumor Luna made up, about Mikan showing her underwear to the Fuukitai to avoid punishment. It’s obviously bogus: Mikan would never even think to do that, let alone actually do it. He knows that too, because Natsume knows her very well. He asks because he has to.

Mikan avoids answering, brushing it off as none of Natsume’s business, because she is also under Luna’s watchful gaze. So they end up having an argument in front of everyone, both not saying what they really mean, and instead doing as Luna commands, to keep everyone safe. Mikan points out that she isn’t his partner--or anything--anymore, so he should mind his business. Natsume then asks if that means his concern is a bother, and she confirms: yes. It’s a big fat pain.

It's heartbreaking and frustrating in equal spades.

It’s almost as if Natsume was testing something. Now he knows that Luna must have threatened Mikan in the storeroom. Something sinister happened there, and now Mikan is different, dishonest, mean. That’s not what she’s actually like, and now he’s concerned. Luna’s shadow is spreading and it’s threatening to encroach on Mikan’s light.

Chapter Eighty-Two

Natsume walks off, having heard all he needs to hear.

Luna is causing mayhem and strife to punish Mikan and Natsume specifically for their misbehavior on New Year’s. She wants Mikan to be isolated from Natsume in particular because he’s her number one protector. If there’s a wedge between them, Mikan is easier to target. After all, Mikan’s purpose at the academy is to lure in Yuka, and the more danger she is in, the more likely Yuka is to try and save her daughter. If Natsume is around, threatening Mikan becomes tricky. He’d never allow anything bad to happen to her, hence his desperation and sacrifice in this arc. In order to fulfill their goals regarding Yuka, they need Natsume out of Mikan’s picture.

Of course, despite Natsume’s secret intel being superior to Ruka or Hotaru’s (and definitely to Mikan’s), he’s still not entirely in the know. Yuka being the main target, for example, is information Natsume is not privy to, and couldn’t even imagine. This is a game Natsume is unaware that he cannot win. If he doesn’t distance himself from Mikan, she’ll be threatened, but if he does, she’ll be threatened. In reality, there's no way he can win this round.

Chapter Eighty-Three

Anyway, the Sports Fest doesn’t slow down for the kids’ drama. The athletic meets have begun, and now there is a relay race.

Ruka and Natsume are on different teams for the relay, and this has inspired Ruka to beat his best friend, so he can be number one in Mikan’s eyes for once.

I will talk way more about the “love triangle” aspect of NatsuMikan and the question of choice, autonomy, and agency in Mikan’s essay, because when it comes to Natsume's side of things, he's very much resigned to losing every romantic game, every relay race, every competition. It's no contest. He's not competing. He's withdrawn from the race, now more than ever. He will not participate. He is destined to lose, after all, so why even bother?

And so Ruka wins the actual relay, and Natsume watches as everyone has fun without him, something that he’s been accustomed to before. It hurts more now, undoubtedly, because for a time, he was actually a part of the group. Knowing what it feels like to fit in and have fun with everyone makes it even worse when it’s gone again. He used to separate himself from the rest and suffer all on his own, but now he’s returned to that state.

He hasn’t quite let go, either. His effort and commitment to the Sports Fest, despite all the drama with Mikan and Luna, demonstrate just how much he actually wants to participate. It’s not about having his friends around him. He actually likes being able to have fun, and be allowed to take part in an event with everyone else, even if he isn’t technically by his friends’ sides.

His bad feelings are only exacerbated by Luna, who shows up to taunt him. He shouldn’t worry about Mikan and Ruka, because they’ll be torn apart eventually. Whatever happiness they find right now is temporary. It won’t last, and Luna will make sure of it.

But Natsume loves both Mikan and Ruka, and that does not reassure him at all. He’s selfless, would rather they be together anyway. In a perfect world, maybe she could pick him, and it makes him sad that the world isn’t perfect and he can’t have what he wants, but he’s always at peace with losing. So he’s not at all comforted by the idea that the happiness his loved ones have found will dissipate in no time.

Chapter Eighty-Four

Luna then giggles, because whether or not Ruka and Mikan’s being split apart will result in Natsume’s happiness is another question entirely. She wants to rub it in that even if Ruka is out of the picture, he can never be with Mikan. Joke’s on her though, because Natsume has already come to terms with this the moment he fell in love with Mikan. He hasn’t been humoring ideas of love confessions and weddings and living happily ever after. It’s outside the realm of possibility, because his circumstances do not allow him much happiness at all.

The future seems bleaker than ever, and knowing that Ruka and Mikan are being kept under watch by the school, Natsume keeps an eye on them too. He’s feeling sad and heart-broken too, of course. He’s not perfect. He can’t erase feelings of jealousy or the ache of unrequited love just because he feels it’s his duty to make peace with them. It hurts, but he’ll carry through. That’s what he’s always done.

But people are gossiping about his presence, putting his position in jeopardy. Luna can’t know he’s still hanging around Mikan, even if Mikan herself is clueless to this. Before he can be discovered, he steals someone’s mask, the mask of a boy named Kusami whose hairstyle looks an awful lot like Natsume’s.

If only he could be allowed to just steal people's identities and not have to face any consequences for it. Alas.

Unfortunately for Natsume, the Borrowing Race is about to begin, and Kusami was arranged to be a participant. He put the mask on to avoid responsibility for his spying, but it’s bit him in the butt now.

Kusami benefits from this, indirectly, since kids who call him moron get the cold shoulder from Natsume, who doesn’t have the same easy-going personality.

It seems nobody actually wants to participate in the Borrowing Race. It’s very personal and vulnerable: you have to borrow a person or item you’d least want to borrow, as dictated on a small piece of paper assigned to you. It’s then judged by some mind-reading alices to test the validity of the borrowed items. The concept of the race functions around embarrassing and humiliating people, so naturally nobody would want to participate.

Natsume has gotten himself into trouble here. He can’t even make a run for it, though he really wants to, because for some reason people are hell-bent on Kusami competing. He’s in the second round, and starts running as he--or Kusami--is supposed to. He gets his paper and although we don’t see what’s written on it quite yet, we can see a focus on Mikan in one of the panels, so we can tell his first thought is to borrow her.

To confess anonymously in front of the whole school or to not confess anonymously in front of the whole school--that is the question.

And then in a few pages, emboldened by the mask he’s wearing, Natsume runs toward Mikan and grabs her wrist. He’s decided he will borrow her, because maybe she’ll never find out his true identity, and he can be selfish just this once. This could be his only chance ever to be honest about how he feels. He's had to lie and hide it for so long that it makes sense he'd take the first opportunity available to go for it. This is quite possibly the most selfish thing he’s done. If he gets caught, he’ll be entirely exposed.

Unlike Ruka, Natsume can't really win this race. He won't be number one in Mikan's eyes, ever. He can't ever tell her it's all for her. The very best he can do is compete with a mask on. Ruka can try his hardest and impress Mikan and Natsume feels he never will. It's not much of a competition when one person cannot and will not compete.

He runs, despite her confusion and obliviousness, or perhaps because of it.

And just as the fireworks displaying his prompt start going off in the sky, he lets her go and walks away resolutely. There. He’s participated.

“The person you love.”

Mikan is chasing after Natsume, but he can’t be caught. Being caught would ruin everything, and would make his selfish act even more selfish. He shoves the mask back into Kusami’s face, and takes off.

You'd think he'd be a bit happier to have finally confessed his feelings but he just looks miserable.

Natsume has been very selfish now. He didn’t have to grab Mikan. He could’ve borrowed anybody and lost. Does it matter if he wins? He’s not Kusami. He could’ve just gotten the race over with and run away, but instead he played along, because he wanted to confess. He’s never been so honest in his life. He wants her to know he loves her, even if she doesn’t know who “he” is. And if he gets caught, then Mikan will know for a fact that Natsume Hyuuga loves her, and everything he’s done so far--hyping up Ruka, distancing himself, being cruel to protect her, allowing Luna to cling to him--will have been for nothing. She’ll know it was all a ruse, and then she’ll be open to all sorts of dangers. But he risks it, because he just can’t hide it anymore. He always has to hide, always has to pretend, always has to sacrifice his own feelings for the sake of others. This time, he’ll say exactly what he means, made all the more easier by the fact that there’s a mask on his face.

He’s done something like this before, particularly when he kissed Mikan on Christmas.

And the Christmas kiss is nothing compared to this: an actual love confession. The kiss was just that, and he had plenty of excuses for why he’d kiss her. It wasn’t because he loved her, no way! It was because she kept saying the other one didn’t count. Or maybe he just wanted to know what it felt like. That’s all. The excuses were just another mask to hide behind.

What excuse could he possibly give for a love confession that a panel of mind-reading judges corroborated? If he’s caught, she will know.

All his tiny instances of selfishness are smaller examples of the same idea: he lets himself be affectionate for once. He can say he prefers her with her hair down, or hug her during the SA class labyrinth, or cuddle with her when he’s having a nightmare, just this one time, and then he’ll give up for good. She won’t notice. It won’t have an effect. It won’t have consequences. He’ll give up for good after; he’ll just do this one selfish thing and then never again. But he can’t give it up, and eventually Christmas happens. He kisses her, unloading so much affection into one action, as if he’s trying to just get it over with. He’ll just get all his love out with one kiss and then he’ll be okay to watch her fall in love with anybody else but him.

But he can’t. He can’t stop doing these little selfish things. He can’t suffocate his love and leave it to die, hidden and smothered like a skeleton in a closet. Despite his every attempt to kill it, to hide it, to pretend like it’s not important, it has only grown stronger. He loves her more and more everyday, and the more he loves her, the harder it is to pretend like he doesn’t care if he never gets what he wants.

He wants to be with her. He wants to kiss her and protect her openly. He wants to sit next to her in class and smile with her. He wants to spend time with her and be on her team for school events. He wants to hold her hand and tell her he loves her.

He doesn’t want to give it all up and wreck his own chances.

The longer he’s loved Mikan, the harder it’s been to be selfless like this. The yearning has only gotten stronger, and now it takes all his power to be cruel to her. What used to come naturally, like being cold and distant and insulting her, has become difficult. What comes naturally to him now is to confess his love or hold her hand or be around her.

Despite the fact that Natsume was the only person who seems to have borrowed the correct person for the race, the White team still loses, on account of him not actually being Kusami.

At the end of the chapter, he sits alone, brooding in a tree.

He hasn’t been caught, so his actions have no consequences for now. He can sit there and mourn what could have been. He can’t be with Mikan, let alone confess his feelings. This was just an excuse to live out a fantasy. He wants to be loud about his feelings, not muffle them. But this is Natsume we’re talking about. He never gets what he wants. And in his opinion, he shouldn’t because Ruka deserves a happy ending way more. And Mikan would never love him back anyway. Ruka would be better for her.

This is just another instance of Natsume promising himself that he’ll do one more selfish thing before he gives up forever. But we know he’s bad at keeping his word, and this is no exception.

Chapter Eighty-Five

Before Mikan can confront Natsume about the borrowing race, Luna steps in, covering for him, claiming she was watching with him from the bleachers during the race. She clings to his arm and drags him off, spurring even more rumors that he and Luna are an item.

She's so violent with him for really no reason.

He tells her to get off, but she reminds him that she’s just done him a favor (though it’s really just a favor to herself). She grabs his hand and holds it tight, and again people get the wrong idea. It’s interesting how such physically painful things come across as romantic to the people around them, who think that Luna is simply holding his hand. Natsume’s persistent look of misery and apathy doesn’t deter people at all from rumors that he’s dating her. After all, Luna is clinging to him with a smile on her face and he’s not doing anything to peel her off, so it must mean they have feelings for each other. Natsume has been so good at hiding his feelings, that nobody--not even the girl he really loves--knows what it looks like when he’s loving and affectionate to somebody. They think he's into Luna, and can't see that what he really needs is help.

Chapter Eighty-Six

Luna has just arranged a terrifying fall for Mikan, knowing she’d use her alice as a knee-jerk reaction to save herself, thus causing others to think she did it for the attention. Mikan could’ve been seriously injured, or worse, and is definitely in trouble now, so Natsume is furious.

He confronts Luna, and the only thing stopping him from hurting her is that he could put Mikan in even more danger by doing so. But Luna is remorseless, giggling that she had no choice but to threaten Mikan. After all, she’s just doing what the principal said they’d do. Mikan should have been put in Persona’s custody in the DA class immediately following the Hana Hime party incident, but Natsume’s sacrifices have allowed her to skate by. Luna is there to observe and punish what she perceives as bad behavior, and anything less than abject misery from Mikan is bad behavior to her.

She warns Natsume: if he really wants to protect Mikan, then he’ll make sure she’s hated. That way, she won’t be in danger.

Powerlessness.

Natsume can’t go around confessing his love to her with a mask on anymore. He needs to sacrifice their relationship entirely in order to keep her safe. And so he does.

He’s sitting on a bench, surrounded by his classmates. Permy is adamantly defending Mikan. These rumors that Mikan fell on purpose for the attention are obviously stemming from Luna, who has the whole class wrapped around her finger. She turns to Natsume, looking for back-up, but Natsume has been told clearly what to do in order to really protect Mikan, and it has nothing to do with standing up for her against these rumors.

Instead, he says that it’s best not to be involved with Mikan anymore. He doesn’t want to see her or hear about her anymore, and he doesn’t want to associate with anyone who associates with her. He tries to give off the impression that he hates her, that he’s disgusted by her.

Then he sees that she’s been there all along, listening.

This is almost like the scene where he tells her he hates everything about her. He’s doing the hard thing to protect her. He’s lying, willing to hurt her, willing to be the villain, if it means she’s in the light and out of the dark.

But this is different.

Mikan could take it before. She yelled back that she hated him too, just as much, and even though that was a lie, it was still something she was able to say. She could argue and fight. This time she crumbles and runs away.

And he’s different too. Before, he could walk away, resolute and determined. Knowing that she’ll be better off this way was enough for him. He didn’t even look back. This time, he can’t leave things like that.

After all, last time was easier. He didn’t think she actually liked him back then. It would really only hurt him. He knows better now. Mikan cares about him, and it doesn’t matter what shape that care takes. It only matters that hearing Natsume call her worthless brings her to tears now, and that’s enough for him to feel way more conflicted.

This time, he apologizes.

He doesn't say he's sorry, but he's saying he's sorry.

He finds Kusami, steals his mask once again, never saying one word to a kid who has been generously keeping his secret for him. He runs after Mikan, and when he finally catches up to her, he hugs her.

Wearing the mask while hugging her is like wearing a raincoat in a hurricane. It won’t change anything or protect him at all. In fact, all he’s doing is giving her confirmation that it’s him, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t want her to think he hates her. He can’t stand it anymore. He’s sorry and he didn’t mean it.

He hugs her and this is different from his selfish hugs during the RPG or when he was having a nightmare. Those were little stolen moments for him to remember. He could take them from Mikan and cherish them as precious memories, even if she never thought of them again. This one is different. This one is for her, to comfort her, to apologize.

It’s all the things he can’t say. I didn’t mean it. Sorry. I have to do this. I really do care about you, I promise. It’s not real. Luna’s making me do this.

But before she can turn around to look at him, he leaves again.

He knows, because of Luna’s warning, that Mikan’s life will only get harder. He wants to help her, but by helping her, he’s placing himself further from her, making it harder for him to protect her in the future. If he’s distant from her to keep Luna at bay, then he’s not around to protect her from Luna in the storeroom, or during the cheerleading competition.

It’s what one might call a Catch-22. No matter what he chooses, he loses. And the worst part is that so does Mikan.

Conclusion

Natsume isn't an active participant in the last few chapters of this arc, so this is how I'll wrap the meta here. In the next arc there will be much to say about him. The Sports Fest went deep into Natsume's love for Mikan. It's not surprising that his love inspires selflessness. Natsume will always put others in front of himself and the more he loves someone, the more fervent he is about self-sacrifice. The truly beautiful thing about Natsume's love for Mikan is that it inspires selfishness too. And I never mean selfish as bad when I'm talking about Natsume. His love for Mikan is special in that it makes him want things for himself too.

I'm having doubts about being able to post tomorrow, so I apologize for only two posts this week. Expect normal posting next week at the very least! This essay is probably more than halfway through already, though I can't say for sure how much is left. Where I am now in terms of essay-writing is already deep in the Time-Travel Arc and as a result there's entire chapters I've skipped. Like. Seven in a row at times. Yikes. So basically we're pretty far in!

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emergingsentiments · 3 years

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Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha: Episode 10 (Repost)

Loneliness must have drawn you back here, says Hwajung to Chohui. But these could have been words for Dusik and Hyejin, too. The past and current entanglements of Gongjin’s love affairs, after all, run parallel to each other. For Chohui, her mother’s death and her brother’s migration left her solitary, so it only seemed natural to return to somewhere familiar. Hyejin, on the other hand, visited the seaside town to reclaim the memory of happier times, when her mother was still alive. Dusik’s reasons are still obscured but the glimpses into the wakes he’s stood vigil by are compelling reasons behind his return.

Home, as I observed in the first episode of Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, is where the heart is and the hurts are.

Episode 10 unfolded like the turning point that it is. As the previous chapters tackled the inner workings of all our characters, especially the progress of Hyejin and Dusik both as individuals and in their romantic engagements, we saw how people began to confront their fears. Whether it’s Cheonjae’s anxieties as a has-been singer and as a single father to a rebellious Juri or Gamri’s quiet suffering in her empty nest, the melancholy that undergirds the town’s surface pushed each one to face their scars and losses. For all the comic relief she brings, even Miseon had to brave confusion and rejection.

In this page of Gongjin’s tale, however, the theme of battling life’s greatest antagonist is truest among Dusik, Hyejin, and Seonghyun.

Poor Seonghyun, so new to the town yet so quick to have been thrown into the maelstrom of Gongjin’s charms and tragedies. His greatest fear was being late. He missed opportunities before, including in the postcard-perfect moments of his youth. Always an observer but never the one observed; always watching over Hyejin but always a step behind others in the line. If he were dancing, he’d be out of rhythm, too busy trying to memorize the choreography.

He has rehearsed his lines a thousand times. Will they come out right? Here, Lee Sang-yi gives Seonghyun his most graceful and yet graceless moment. Making an abrupt u-turn on his way to Seoul, he returns to Gongjin — late once again. Hyejin, attacked by a wandering sexual predator in town, has been saved by Dusik. If the shock of the night’s crime were not enough, he confesses the next evening to a Hyejin that had just mistakenly implied her growing affections for Dusik. She’s just had dinner, too.

Full and formal, Hyejin listens to Seonghyun’s lonely and tense confession. Sangyi delivers the lines Seonghyun has held onto for years. It’s a speech marked by jitters, fretful glances, and a slowly growing blush. Once out, he tries to stop the tension by marking the scene as a take. But the clapperboard humor isn’t enough. Hyejin watches him eat alone. She has no appetite.

Hyejin, for her part, couldn’t be blamed. She never really saw Seonghyun other than a senior to be admired. Yes, he’s saved her from a jerk before. But years of absence have made the heart grow duller instead of fonder. She’s also just come from an equally awkward dinner with Dusik, who is celebrating his grandfather’s death anniversary. There is no room for another meal. The night before — the night of the attack — she had slept in Dusik’s home for the third time as well.

At the first visit to his home, she kissed Mr. Hong on impulse and alcohol. On the second, she carried the weight and fears of an inebriated Dusik. On the third visit, she is traumatized from the night’s break-in, so now slips in to Mr. Hong’s clothes and stays over, unable to sleep unless Dusik’s around with poetry. He reads to her...It is my job to fall in love with you while waiting for you the next day. The antidote to Hyejin’s fear, after all, is Gongjin’s son.

But what does Hyejin fear? Well, it’s simple. She fears what she lost — her childhood, to be who she is. As a young girl who lost her mother, she had to grow up fast given her father’s alcohol-tinged coping mechanism. As a young woman, she had to build walls after a harsh rebuke of her lowly appearance. So she covers her scars with pretenses — and fancy shoes. Her clothes are her walls. Her life has been planned out. She steers this career with distinct professionalism and ambition. But it’s never ruthless. A woman-child, her core reveals a soft, compassionate heart.

This is what Dusik brings out in her. It’s not something Dusik necessarily gives. The two, after all, have their losses but they are whole persons, too. Dusik’s unconventional lifestyle and ways have eroded the surface of Hyejin’s fortress. Like salted sea slowly breaking down cliffs. With Dusik, she regains the lost child, the one who laughs when pieces of crab meat are flung to Dusik’s face. If that was Seonghyun, Hyejin would have been profusely apologetic and formal. But Mr. Hong is different. Around him, Hyejin can be unguarded, vulnerable.

Dusik, on the other hand, always saw her in a different light. Carrying the weight of unexplained grief, Dusik knows exactly what’s hidden behind Hyejin’s front. But for all his bravado, he’s afraid, too. The people he loved the most have left him, leaving him with an unimaginable sense of guilt. It’s what keeps him tethered to the idea of boundaries. He only likes Hyejin as a friend. But his eyes, his actions — they speak otherwise. If he admits to loving Hyejin, then the prospect of fresh losses cripple him. He’s an engineering graduate, so he has made the calculations. And yet, this strange woman who has returned from a childhood memory is urging him to take those risks and forget those probabilities.

He took a stab on the shoulder, one that nearly cost his life. Isn’t that love — or even the semblance of it? Why does Dusik need to certify his affections with assurance? Gamri, Gonjin’s wisest daughter, sees through Dusik’s barricades. Life’s brevity, she says, demands risks but most of all, honesty with oneself.

These are words worth ruminating in the evening breeze at the town’s breakwater.

It’s the same place where Hyejin finds him.

After a trip to Seoul to forget the town’s powers over her and Miseon, she realizes the city’s offerings were no longer attractive. Everything reminds her of Gongjin. She can’t stop thinking of Dusik. As a grown-up, Hyejin had sought security. Her instinct of self-preservation made her hard. Drenched in a sudden downpour in Seoul, she remembers her rain-soaked self with Dusik at the beach. It is enough for her to understand.

These realizations surge from Hyejin’s adrenaline-filled confession. Unable to deny her growing affections any further, she takes the plunge.

The child faces reality with simple acceptance. In the presence of a vulnerable Hyejin, things freely move and are themselves. The effects are immediately clear. Like any sensible woman, Hyejin knows Dusik could all but reject him, too. Who drives back from Seoul to rant about love, right? But Dusik understands. The hours waiting for her return were sooner than he had anticipated. But the man had made his calculations. The formulas are no longer useful.

True to himself, Dusik fulfills his new duty. It is my job to fall in love with you while waiting for you the next day. So he returns the confession with the most reasonable declaration: a kiss, first tender, one that leaves Hyejin breathless. He speaks but yearns for more. So he lets his lips touch hers for a second time. A kiss now free from all the tentativeness of the night.

A few weeks ago I read several criticisms about Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha. It’s cliched. People only watch it because the actors are popular. There’s nothing exceptional about a love story.

Cliched, true. But there is a reason why there are cliches because they are true. Do people only watch because the actors are popular? Perhaps. Perhaps not. A love story doesn’t hold a candle to the more intellectual and uncomfortable narratives available for consumption, right? You know, the stories that deal with war and violence, politics and its lack of virtue, the more profound tales that explore humanity or its degradation. But I fear this is an effort to leave the commonplace, the domestic, and the personal materials unattended for the sake of what seems profound. Yet, the production of these “better” and more profound stories does not offer any solace from suffering.

For over a year now, we’ve been fighting the wrath of an invisible virus. It might even be true to say that for many of us, we’ve lost someone dear, someone deeply loved. If not, we know someone who has dealt with these losses. Given the lockdowns and restrictions, even grieving has been abbreviated. Our reality is sobering. We fear many things. So while I don’t hold it against people to choose the more elevated tales, it would be a shame to dismiss those who gush over a love story as uncritical and frivolous.

Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha resonates with and appeals to many because it reminds us of the things we’ve lost to the pandemic. Face-to-face conversations. The stability of a job. Family. Friendship. The pat on the back. Our grandparents. Our first love. A hand to hold. Dinner with friends under the warmth of incandescent light. Office conversations. Senseless chatter. The thrill of falling in love. The smell of the sea, and the sand on our feet. Our best friend. The normalcy of a leisurely walk. Dancing in the rain. People. Our community. The words we wanted to say. A kiss.

In a world where physical intimacy and closeness are dangerous, we feel our lips with our fingers watching Hyejun and Dusik kiss. And we remember the way we were. Kim Seon Ho was right in saying Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha is a healing drama. To love and be loved, after all, remains the ultimate catharsis.

#hometown cha cha cha #kim seon ho #Shin Min Ah #kdrama #korean drama #갯마을 차차차 #writing #love #drama #homcha

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fanalien-an-alien-fangirl · 3 years

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my parallel of tua and encanto:

luther - isabela, the "oldest kid" (not really in luthers case but still the number 1), the ideal image of their trope, golden child, have to be the best to please some old person who's an authority.

diego - luisa, very attached to a duty no one ever imposed to them but they still need to fulfill at all costs, looks tough but is pretty emotional.

allison - dolores, smart and probably acts like an emotional support to everyone. likes a himbo. because of their powers they can find out things and uncover secrets very easily, reason why they probably refuse to use them.

klaus - camilo, the comic relief of the family, keeps the atmosphere relaxed, very social power, doesn't express a lot of emotions unless overwhelmed with them, doesn't open up about their wounds, prefer to do things always the easy way.

five - bruno, old man who dissapeared for years because of his powers, knows what happens in the future, crucial to the solution of the problems and saving the day.

ben - antonio, the baby of the family, actually wittier than they look, looks after the reckless family members while being chaotic themselves.

vanya - mirabel, the powerless kid who's insecure about it, secretly has a power (according to the fandom theory in mirabel's case), directly involved in the reason why the conflict started to beggining with and the reason why it was solved.

grace - julieta, the nurturer, looks after eveybody, still secretely very tough. probably knows stuff but doesn't talk about it.

reginald - alma, too worried about their goal to properly exercises the family's powers, inflicting trauma in everyone. has a big house and holds a lot of unmagical power. also, dead spouse.

#encanto #the umbrella academy

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elysian-entries · 3 years

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One film, two visions; The Justice League

It’s 2017; the highly anticipated “Justice League” film, directed by Zack Snyder, is set to be released later in the year as a continuation of the DCEU.

A blockbuster movie showcasing the biggest DC characters uniting. Taking down the ultimate super villain; bound to fulfil millions of past and present children’s, as well as current adults and elderly dreams.

Then a fork in the road appears, Snyder and his wife, Deborah, step down from the colossal project due to the incredibly woeful loss of their daughter, Autumn. News hits the fans like a brick. Resulting in Joss Whedon and the Warner Bros. Studio stepping up to the mantle. Or at least attempting to.

Whedon's theatrical cut lost Warner Bros. Pictures approximately $60 million dollars. With overall painfully negative reviews and reception. Breaking the hearts of DC fans everywhere.

4 years, campaigns, hashtags, sky banners, petitions, and billboards later; I can’t say how many of us would have predicted receiving the holy gift that is the “Snyder Cut”, in its full 4 hour running time glory (in a 4:3 ratio, which somehow adds to the grandeur). 4 years of dedicated, passionate and determined people helping in any way they can for the cause. It was a journey to behold.

A large section in Snyder’s 4 hour venture is used to build dimension and depth in the characters. Making an absolute world of a difference. Something that was sorely lacking in Whedon's cut. The film had a completely different feel and atmosphere instantly.

There's no better example of increased depth in characters than Cyborg's (Ray Fisher's) narrative. I was engaged, and intrigued by his story. In Whedon’s cut, he isn't even given a second thought. His entire backstory was cut as well as his father's important role also being stripped. His scene where he sacrificed himself in order for them to find the mother box was gone. And it took away such an important, integral part in Cyborgs story, and in the film in general I believe and also realised having seen the two movies; the complicated but delicately developing relationship between father and son. And just the whole story in general made such a difference in Snyder's cut, it really is almost indescribable the difference it made. It just felt so much more genuine and heartfelt. Like a real developed and executed narrative.

In Snyder's cut we were shown detailed flashbacks that fully fleshed out his character, his morals and his relationships. Creating a much needed deeper connection with the audience. We experience his conflicting journey to accepting his responsibility, accepting the past, the "gift he has", and his purpose in the league. Leading into receiving closure. He was given great and meaningful importance and purpose in this cut.

Similarly, Ezra Miller's Flash was too given a largely more meaningful and impactful role that left quite the impression on me. His character was light-hearted and charming but still had those important, emotionally impactful scenes. Which were painfully lacking in Whedon's cut. I was left loving Barry Allen a lot more than I already did. Barry's scenes with his wrongly convicted father were hard hitting for me. They also play a large part in making later scenes more impactful. Like his detrimental importance during the final fight. In Whedon's cut his big hero moment was saving a Russian family. The overall the inclusion of the family was superfluous and extraneous, along with the robber at the start and many other things. Not only that but Whedon's cut gave the Flash a silly, attempted comical relief role. To be fair he attempted to give everybody a comical relief role. Which hardly worked because none of the attempts were actually funny and were at time agonizing. It ultimately lacked substance and came across as almost immature. The scene where Barry went on about brunch was painful. Leading me to ask, why? Why was this so important to film Whedon?

After re-watching Whedon’s version, I had gained a new found appreciation for Snyder's representation of Barry. '"Make your own future, make your own past"; he echoes his father’s words. "Your son really was one of them, the best of the best," as his theme "At the Speed of Force" plays in the background of this pivotal moment. A powerful scene reflecting Barry's ulterior motive, doing his father proud. Which invoked many tears. And still does whenever I re-watch the scene or listen to the song. As if it were the first time experiencing it. Thomas Holkenborg's soundtrack truly amplified emotion and made the scenes much more powerful, It makes for one of the absolute best scenes in the movie; I'd say one of, if not my absolute favourite.

His job in charging up Victor was completely removed and I have to wonder why. Instead Barry was left to participate in "bug duty" (bugs being one of his fears also). Barry's role in Snyder's cut, and that one incredible scene where he broke the rule was arguably better than Whedon's Justice League as a whole.

I think the only scene in Whedon's cut involving Barry that I thought was actually meaningful was where he was faced with his first real mission. And he was confronted with his fears of "obnoxiously tall" beings. He appeared anxious and frantic. Fearful. Communicating to us his inexperience. And Batman simply told him to just "save one". To which he then, without struggle, saved them all. And was also able to participate in the final battle. The "save one" scene made those achievements more meaningful.

The scene after they won the battle, showcases the victorious team standing proud; and Barry with a sweet, goofy, golden retriever-esque smile plastered on his face. What a loveable smile.

An interesting contrast is the scene in where Barry reveals to his father his new position at an “actual job”. In Snyder’s cut the father was absolutely over the moon, shouting at the top of his lungs, "his foot is in the door!" repeatedly in excitement. It tugged at my heart strings; his shameless pride in his son. Making me wonder how he would have shown his pride if he found out Barry saved the whole Earth and humanity. We can assume Barry had that unequivocally powerful underlying thought too. Contributing to his saccharine reaction. In Whedon’s cut the reaction was softer and more timid but nonetheless a sweet moment. Barry becoming bashful.

It was a sweet touch to have Cyborg and Flash finally fist bump during that victorious scene after Victor rejected Barry's initial advance in Whedon's cut. Ezra Miller improvising that “racially charged” line, acknowledging the possible racism attached to a fist bump I assume. The whole fist bumping being "racially charged" was not included in Snyder's cut. The grave digging scene was entirely different. Which I far more preferred. It was a group excursion. With a little positive interaction between the Atlantean and the Amazonian. And funnier, more light-hearted dialogue between Barry and Victor.

Aquaman’s contrast was interesting. In Whedon’s cut he actually sought out to obtain the trident to help the league (although he was always disagreeing with them). Compared to Snyder; where he was apprehensive and had to be hesitantly persuaded by Willem Dafoe’s character Vulko (who was completely absent from Whedon’s cut). This was also an importantly established relationship by Snyder. Arthur first makes his desire to help the the team known saving them from the water rushing from Gotham Harbour. He isn't acknowledged in the theatrical cut but in Snyder's cut Diana notices and takes a moment to take in his presence (I assume?). Then Barry asks who that guy is. And of course we all know, it's Aquaman.

I particularly liked how Snyder chose to include Barry asking for Arthur's opinion on military hats. It's an odd, minimalistic thing to include - the reasoning as to why I like it. I also thought it was quite charming.

A scene I think deserves a mention is when Aquaman is first introduced, and then rejects Bruce's offer, he then makes his way back into the ocean. A farewell song is performed. This was quite early in the film and I think the voices being hauntingly beautiful, yet slightly eerie/poignant set the perfect atmosphere. A well done scene.

His overall character was also contrasting. He became a genuine hero who was proved capable of more than water powers and silly moments. Including that god-awful lasso of truth scene. In the theatrical cut he was bitter, a bit of a joke, not caring too much about the events that were unfolding. He had more of a heroes’ sense of purpose within Snyder’s cut.

Gal Gadot did not gain too much from the extra scenes. Though different to the theatrical cut, Snyder had paired her with a repetitive character establishing theme. It could be referred to as ancient lamentation music. Hauntingly beautiful. Something I could only assume would be the battle cries of the Amazonian warriors and the Amazonian warrior inside Diana. In some ways possibly over used, though I thought it was brilliant. It has a special place in my heart because I love that type of soundtrack. The almost eerie, maybe poignant but overall emotion provoking type. Especially her introduction scene where she faces off against the terrorists )which was overall better in Snyder's cut) The haunting warrior moans fade into her classic theme to create an incredible atmosphere. And that atmosphere was definitely missing in Whedon's cut, in more than just that one scene. It was also sorely lacking the lamentation music. We also didn't get that sweet interaction between Diana and the little girl.

When Diana began detailing Steppenwolf and the mother boxes past to Bruce, the cuts were very strange and abrupt/awkward in some way. And it felt silly and rushed; and I think that perfectly describes the whole film.

Whedon's cut also included uncomfortable scenes. Almost forcing characters to be funny where it was just completely out of place and character. Or just downright inappropriate. To be fair, Whedon is known for the Marvel movies in which fourth wall dimension breaking and odd self ware/ironic jokes are heavily used. One of the main reasons I don't particularly enjoy them, but rather enjoy the darker, more meaningful DC movies. I say meaningful in the way in which we are completely transported into this universe; where it's taken seriously and has obvious effects and meaning to the characters. Compared to Whedon's Marvel films in which the threat is joked about and the characters make fun at their expense.

Another negative contrast is the colour grading and overall shots. A good example is the conversation between Lois Lane and Martha Kent. In Whedon's version the colour is poppy, reminiscent of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or The Office. As if it were an empty shell of a TV show. Lacking any artistic or symbolic aspects. Whereas Snyder's conversation between Martha Kent (who was actually Martian Manhunter) and Lois Lane was beautiful. The lighting was dim, with steam from their hot coffee creating a brilliant shot and conveying the perfect mood. Almost a piece of art. A lot of Snyder's cut looked as if it were ripped straight out of an incredible graphic novel. His talent when it comes to filmmaking is grandiloquent. Compared to Whedon's over saturated and flat scenes as if it were from a cliché sitcom.

Whedon also made the Justice League a lot more dysfunctional than it needed to be.

The scene where the team unanimously come up with the plan to revive Superman seemed really silly and lackluster in Whedon's cut. In Snyder's cut it was a genuine moment. A "wow" moment where the penny dropped. It gave me goose-bumps. The way it was implied, the explanation/analogy with the house, and then Cyborg creating a Superman visual as the team, standing around the table, stared at it in awe. All thinking the same thing. Without even having to say it (as Barry pointed out) It was a uniting moment. Whedon's version was just, disappointing. Lacking any impact at all. And it made the team seem disconnected in a way. Whereas in Snyder's scene the league's thoughts were in unison.

There was also an agonizing amount of Wonder Woman praise. I think praise is a...well...nicer way of putting it. It was more so adolescent boy humour, immature if you will; with her being the butt of the joke. To the point where it was little uncomfortable and borderline unnecessary. And to another point where Gal Gadot refused to do a scene, (the one where Flash lands on her) and Whedon insisted so much on still including it - that they used a body double. A scene so stupid and pointless it actually hurts. Why, Whedon?

Superman's main feature in this film is his moustache. Or, lack thereof. At the beginning of the theatrical cut, we witness the infamous Superman film scene, where we are introduced to his CGI moustache…then “Everybody Knows” by Sigrid plays as we see the aftermath of his death. I really enjoyed this scene, the song and the atmosphere. I think it was a strong start, setting the poignant mood. But of course it all goes out the window and downhill from here.

The biggest difference between the two Superman’s was the elimination of the godforsaken CGI removed moustache and the introduction to the “Recovery Suit” in Snyder's cut, which was a brilliant touch. We actually see Clark stumble upon the suit. A scene where various voices from his past, echo in his mind. An equally important and impactful scene; where he flied up into the universe, overlooking the Earth he is to protect.

I also really liked the whole, "Lois Lane is key" setup, with the eerie premonitions and glimpses into the “Knightmare”. Adding yet another deeper layer to the narrative. Setting the scene for Snyder's envisioned sequel.

In Whedon's cut during the first confrontation where Clark is confused immediately after his resurrection - the previous BvS battle is implemented more. With the "Do you bleed?" question being revisited. Giving us an unwanted closer look at the strange looking $3 million dollar CGI.

I liked Snyder's first confrontation better. It included more action and participation of all parties. And it was just a longer scene, making it seem more plausible and less silly. Before Clark reached Bruce he went through every member. Resulting in a little appreciated interaction between Arthur and Barry. I also thought Whedon’s scene showing Superman throwing Batman away like a ragdoll added to the ridiculous nature.

During the final battle. (Not mentioning how uncomfortable the colour grading was causing an unlikable atmosphere. Especially when it became daylight, taking away the exciting and intense atmosphere.) Whedon's Superman's entry was a little plain. Maybe cliché. Banging on about "truth" and "justice". Which isn't necessarily bad. It's just, maybe, too Superman? We then see the relieved faces of all the members. Batman's giddy smile was by far the best. It was nice to see genuine happiness and I think that played an important role in communicating to us Bruce's character arc. From lowest of lows, and his conflicting attitude towards Superman in BvS, to Superman giving him incredible hope. Though it slightly made me uncomfortable.

Snyder's entry of Superman was brutal in the best way. Appearing just before Cyborg was chopped to bits. Giving us that epic moment of 'He came.” Superman mercilessly rips into Steppenwolf for the next minute or two. No breakaways. Which was a great choice. It perfectly showcased his abilities. Though in the theatrical cut he was shown to be the only capable one of saving the world and being the real “hero”, in Snyder’s cut, especially The Flash, they were all shown to be powerful with meaningful parts to play.

Bruce Wayne appeared more guilty and conflicted about what happened in BvS in Whedon's cut. Though he was overshadowed in terms of writing by Superman and Wonder Woman. He also was the one who brought in the "big guns" a.k.a Lois Lane as a contingency plan in case the Superman resurrection went awry. In which it did. In Snyder's cut it was coincidence, or the doing of Man Hunter in that mysterious scene. Bruce was also quite tense and wasn’t too much a bright beacon of hope as he was in the Snyder cut. Even despite Snyder's vision of him being reminiscent and heavily inspired by Frank Millers version; darker, older, broken and violent in a way (which is brilliant) he still had this character arc. The lover’s tiff he suffered with Diana was irritating and what I thought was superfluous. Creating an unnecessary disconnect with the group. It wasn't an interesting sub-plot/complication at all .

Bruce's character arc (from the dark BvS time, to the hopeful present) was more thoroughly shown in Snyder’s cut compared to Whedon's. I briefly mentioned Bruce's schoolgirl grin when Superman arrived right on time. Though Snyder more effectively showcased this positive rise through his obviously increased in optimistic attitude. When the team are off the defeat Steppenwolf once and for all Alfred asks Bruce how he can be so sure of the Man of Steel’s arrival. And Bruce replies full of vigour, “Faith, Alfred, faith!” And in another instance Barry questions their strength against Steppenwolf due to the amount of demons he has won against. Bruce declares that, “He’s never fought us. Not us united.” It was a powerful statement that heavily elevated excitement for the final fight.

During this final fight, Batman basically goes out on a suicide mission. Then the rest of the league join him for a family reunion. The Snyder cut better represented this with an astounding freeze-frame, slow motion shot of the team. It nicely established the power of unity in this case.

The way in which Steppenwolf was defeated was vastly altered. Changed completely. Mostly due to Darkseid’s absence in the theatrical cut. Darkseid added an important extra layer of looming fear, and even gave Steppenwolf more depth. It gave him an important reason as to why he was doing what he wasy doing. As we saw his utter dedication to Darkseid. It alerted us of the larger dangers that were present. Steppenwolf’s death in Whedon’s cut was ultimately debilitated after seeing Snyder’s version. Instead of being anti-climactically eaten alive by his bug minions as the sun rose; (maybe it’s a personal preference but I heavily dislike the daylight, especially for action scenes) his head was chopped off, first horn by horn, then from the neck. His decapitated head thrusted back through the portal into his own world, landing at the horrifying Darkseid's feet, along with the terrifying parademons. Engulfed by a fiery hellscape. The horror that Earth could have faced. But still could face. It reveals the deeper and darker enemy, beyong Steppenwolf looming just beneath the surface.

A sinister tune plays, as we see the victorious Justice League looking back at them. The portal then closes. Although a victory, we can’t help but wonder what the demonic and powerful entities, far more powerful than Steppenwolf, have in store for Earth’s future.

The Knightmare vision being apart of that future. It's set up from BvS to the very end of Justice League. It's a very intriguing part of Snyder’s vision. The moment where you can link up and see the connections between all the post-credit scenes and the “premonitions” is an epiphanic moment. It’s a whole other narrative on its own that you can analyse, hypothesize and discuss. It’s a very intriguing/exciting concept to think of what would have been Snyder’s future movie where Barry (as we saw previously reverse time) goes back to warn Bruce that “Lois Lane is the key”, to avoid the whole disastrous scenario. We can gather that he is referencing what we see at the end of Snyder's cut, Superman turned evil. The death of Lois Lane, whose skeleton we saw Superman cradle previously, we can assume had a hand in that, and possibly the Anti-Life equation too. It's an incredible narrative, and there are few things I would love more than seeing the Snyderverse come to life on this epic scale again.

We also finally get a glimpse of Snyder’s joker. A very exciting moment for me. Seeing any new iteration of the Joker is an exciting moment. Could Jared Leto somehow redeem himself?

Well, it sure was infinitely times better than the Suicide Squad rendition. This Joker was actually eerie and unsettling. I felt almost uneasy watching these scenes, and his odd laugh caused shivers to form down my spine. Jokers comments about “boy wonder”, whom we find out was indeed Bruce’s adoptive son, were heartbreaking (I believe he was actually referring to Dick instead of Jason surprisingly as his grave was once seen in a previous movie) Leaving me holding my breath, wondering what Bruce would say next, or what other wretched thing Joker could say. Of course the "reach around" comment was a bit off, but I’ll just brush over that.

We also learnt of Arthur Curry’s death, Harley Quinn’s death. Proving that Snyder had such a colossal plans for all the characters, dead and alive.

It’s a poignant feeling; to see this incredible, vast narrative, just beneath the surface, unfold. Knowing that we won’t be able to see it fully developed. As of now.

While watching these two completely different cuts of the same movie; it occurred to me and I am sure many other people, that attempting to produce such an in depth narrative intensive movie on the small scale that Whedon attempted, will commonly end in a painful, empty and superficial representation. Or maybe that really was just Whedon's vision.

As the epilogue ended, the credits rolled. Hallelujah began playing, sung by Allison Crowe. And as they rolled, in big letters the words; "For Autumn" took center focus. White against black. Clear as day. Like a bus, it hit hard. The reason I was sitting on that couch finally having the great honour to watch such a film. The courage it must have taken to continue and finish such a project is beyond admirable, it's heroic. Also non-profit. It only further proves what we already knew, that the intentions were pure, as no one ever doubted.

Also acknowledging the giant billboard on one of the buildings promoting the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. A very important cause, especially to the Snyder’s. To date fans have raised over half a million dollars to the AFSP in honour of Autumn. A truly incredible feat.

When looking at the two movies side by side, it blows my mind to see the difference that I do. The emotion, meaning, the depth. It all just made sense in Snyder's cut. The emotion was palpable, absolutley unmistakable. Things mattered more. The people mattered more. There were reasons, and purpose. It was a genuine journey for every one of the characters, and I felt it. There were so many little scenes that made so much difference that added depth and meaning, emotion.

And I cannot say such words for Whedon, though I won’t put all the blame on him. Warner Bros. is about equally responsible. .

The true, original and intended Justice League; expatiated heroes, people, stories and journeys coming together on a grandiose scale, executed with passion and care. But also giving us a bittersweet taste of Snyder’s epic trilogy that could have been.

The end of the saga; and the rest of Snyder’s visions, are left unfulfilled; as of now. But regardless, remains as one of the things I hope to see come to life. Watching this movie, and the feeling I had during and afterward is indescribable. I want to say a massive congratulations to Zack Snyder. The film was beyond breathtaking. It really is so special and it will forever have an important place in my heart.

Though I think the most important thing to take away from the Snyder's incredible work is Autumn's story.

Thank you Zack Snyder.

For Autumn.

www.imdb.com/title/tt12361974/

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jasperwhitcock · 4 years

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03. OBSERVATIONS

my bella as a cullen & edward as a vampire fanfic inspired by an au from @bellasredchevy is now on AO3, so you can read the new third chapter here or the full work thus far here. also all of my chapters are now being tagged as #equinoxjw if you want to follow along on tumblr. i’m new to using AO3 as a user, so...bear with me. i feel like a boomer.

My stomach tightened in strange, foreign ways as if it could fall into my abdomen at any moment. There was a vague familiarity about the sensation, and after some thought, I realized that this was something like the faded memory of what anxiety did to my body as a human. It was an entirely different feeling in my unchanging form. Far more unnerving.

I felt silly and small walking directly behind Emmett and Jasper while Rose and Alice flanked me. We were positioned like some ridiculous protection detail, though the danger – myself – was in the center of the defense. I longed to curl into a ball on the floor of my room, but I was far too stubborn to spend another day at home avoiding school like a coward.

At the same time, I was not stubborn enough to have the confidence to completely sell my bravery to my overprotective siblings, so I allowed them to hover more than I would have liked. It felt unnecessary, but I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not I could trust myself yet.

Once we were a few yards from the old building of my first class, I halted our formation.

“Alright, I’m fine. Thanks. I’m sure that didn’t look weird at all,” I grumbled sarcastically, moving forward to step between my brothers at a slow, human pace.

They all held their positions, hesitant.

“This is getting ridiculous.” Their vigilance displayed no signs of relaxing. “I swear that I am fine! Alice?” Irritated, I snapped my head around to examine her vacant expression, hoping she’d foresee something that would support my claim.

“It looks as if...everything will be okay,” she smiled a brilliant, annoyingly over-encouraging smile when the light returned to her golden eyes.

I repressed a sigh of relief to keep from exposing my own concern and setting off any alarms as a result. “See? Another obnoxiously perfect, boring day.”

In case they continued their reluctance to move aside, I walked around rather than through the frontline.

“And I don’t require any further chaperoning. If Alice sees anything, I trust that she’ll take the preventive measure of biting my head off,” I whispered too faint and fast for human ears as I entered the classroom.

“Exactly,” Alice smugly agreed, making me smile for the first time today.

I had been wrong earlier. There was nothing obnoxiously perfect nor boring about this day. I spent the majority of my morning classes hyperalert, over-examining every noise from the clicking of ants on the aged tile to the trickle of a raindrop sliding down the rooftop to the sneeze of a student on the other side of the school grounds. I overthought every movement of air that brushed against my skin, nervously awaiting the circulation that would carry his irresistible scent and once again derail my self control.

Of all my ongoing polarities, I preoccupied myself with deciding between the choices of the simplest question: should I hold my breath or should I not? It would be irrational to think I could deprive myself of a sense of smell forever. Of course, I was physically capable as my body didn’t require oxygen, but I’d need to speak in school eventually. That would require inhalation.

And then the boy would die.

With how incoherent my resolve had been at first encounter with my unfortunate biology partner, was it worth the risk? On the contrary, would the memory of his scent allow me to anticipate the upheaval, and therefore equip me with the mental preparation to withstand more effectively if I did choose to breathe? Would the potential desensitization if I allowed myself this provide him a better chance to live?

I couldn’t decide, so I endured long stretches of both. Instinctually, I preferred the flow of air to my lungs, but with every breath, it seemed I was inhaling more apprehension and exhaling none of it. I was relieved that the air was diluted with the scent of the other students. Of course, if I wanted to, I could find him. I could track him down easily with the treacherously appealing aroma perfectly recollected in my mind guiding me towards him…

I decided against breathing again. I wished that I could decide against thinking as well.

In the duration between periods, I noticed that I could easily locate a member of my family lingering casually in my peripheral vision as I headed to my next class. Casually, if their schedules had qualified them to walk along the same route that I did. That was rarely the case. The distant escort was far more awkward than the tightly knit huddle from the morning.

Rosalie’s expression seemed embarrassed during her surveillance of me, and I hoped it was because she trusted that I could handle this and was simply fulfilling a duty asked of her by the remaining members of my family.

Who had been the one to ask the others to keep an eye on me? Esme?

I didn’t mind when Jasper had been nearby. I never saw him directly, but recognized his footfall and even felt grateful for the sudden deluge of peace that comforted me briefly.

Emmett was particularly irritating. Although I knew he felt concern for me, I also knew he found the situation slightly comical. I didn’t appreciate the suspicion that he may be mocking me as he watched me responsibly walk to my next class without any attempts to escape his supervision and hunt down any unsuspecting teenage children.

Alice didn’t care to conceal herself during her passing period shift, so she waited outside the door to walk alongside me to a lesson we shared together.

I hadn’t crossed paths with the boy yet, so when this morning’s bodyguard configuration began to form on the way to lunch, I said nothing, knowing that it would be far more prudent to have the guarantee that four other vampires would stop me if I made any mistakes when I first saw him again.

The bizarre sensation in my abdomen returned, intensified greatly by the certitude that I’d face the object of my avoidance soon.

Once we had purchased our lunch for appearances, I kept my head down and my lungs empty as we settled into our regular table, buying myself a few more moments of forced oblivion to his presence – as if I could ever be oblivious to his presence again.

I tried to build up my confidence as I studied the patterns in the plywood of the cafeteria table under the laminate. Surely, I would fare much better this time around now that I knew what to expect, wouldn’t I? I hadn’t succumbed the first time, so why should I the second? Besides, as an added measure, I was overly satiated from the hunting trip Esme and I embarked on once the boys had returned. The odds were far better.

I had stayed home a couple of days when Esme and I had finished. My conversation with Carlisle greatly encouraged me, and so my mood began to improve. It wasn’t enough for Emmett to feel satisfied when he easily overtook me in our rematch, suspecting that I wasn’t giving him my full attention, but it was still an improvement.

Today, it had been a week since I’d last seen the boy.

“Edward Masen is walking in,” Alice cautioned. I froze in place, halting the loop my pointer finger was tracing over the grain of the table.

“Nobody look at him!” I hissed with the air from my last breath, nearly inaudible. I halted the sensation of breathing.

“Why would we look at him? You know, you really insult our intelligence sometimes.”

I didn’t look up to see what repelling piece of food I hurled at Emmett’s head. “What intelligence?” I mumbled. I forced myself to continue tracing loops over the wood.

“Relax, Bella,” Rosalie laughed. “Oh, he’s looking this way.”

My eyes narrowed as I finally glanced up to see Rose turn her face away from the cafeteria back to me indulgently, her angelic face feigning innocence.

Some of my edginess began to ease. I eyed Jasper suspiciously.

His lips pulled into a guilty half-smile.

“I’m really growing tired of everyone acting as if I’m a sideshow today,” I sighed, releasing the last of my oxygen supply.

“You’re always a sideshow,” Emmett corrected, baiting me.

My siblings couldn’t resist laughing before the expression on my face silenced them.

Cautiously, I took a deep breath.

I was fortunate; the air near me hadn’t been tainted with any hint of his scent. I inhaled mostly the wonderful fragrance of my family and the slightly tempting aroma of high school students, though it now seemed far less mouthwatering by comparison to what I came across last week.

“I will commit murder today,” I promised, gritting my teeth. “Now, whether that murder results in your death or the kid’s is entirely up to you.”

My curly haired brother laughed. “Alright! Finally some action again!”

Rosalie’s features were apologetic.

“Em, I’d back off if I were you… she’s serious. I see…” Alice made a show of closing her eyes and placing her slender fingertips on either side of her forehead. “I see… a pyre…”

Even I couldn’t keep myself from laughing.

“Are you kidding me? She’s way too distracted lately. I could take her down easy today.”

“It says a lot that my distraction translates to easiness for you,” I taunted before suddenly feeling as if I was being watched.

“Then I correct myself. I could take you down easy any day.”

Not wanting to waste any more of my precious air supply as a precaution, I simply rolled my eyes.

“Bella definitely has an edge with her frustration lately. I wouldn’t be so confident,” Jasper warned, smiling wickedly.

“You willing to bet on Bella?” My brawnier brother challenged cockily.

“Absolutely.”

“Anybody else?”

Alice opened her mouth to speak, but Emmett rapidly cut her off. “You don’t count, pipsqueak. You cheat.”

He turned to face Rosalie. “What about you, babe?”

She bit her lip remorsefully to keep from giggling. “Bella.”

Emmett scoffed before a large, cocky grin spread on his face. “Fine. Whatever. I don’t need any of you.” He leaned back in his chair, his biceps bulging as he flamboyantly rested his massive arms behind his head. “Candy from a baby. Good luck, Bella!”

But I was no longer paying attention. I had already fallen victim to the first irresistibility I’d face today.

Following the suspicion that I was the object of a gaze belonging to the same eyes that had haunted me the past week, I turned my focus towards the cafeteria.

There he sat with some of the more popular students – though if recognition constituted popularity in high school, then all of the children in this lightly populated student body were popular – trying to appear deceptively over-interested in the sleeve of his beige, expensive-looking sweater. His jaw was tight, highlighting his prominent bone structure.

I guess maybe I could understand to some degree why this irrelevant boy had sent the male-interested student body into a frenzy. By their kind’s standards, he must be considered of above-average attraction. But with his strange shade of reddish-brown hair, wouldn’t that be considered a flaw? Didn’t humans have some kind of teasing prejudice towards gingers? Though it was ridiculous, I had the urge to apply the methodology of attraction based on the golden ratio to his face simply out of curiosity.

“Bella Cullen is staring at you,” the student next to him, Naomi, whispered in shock.

“So?” The boy dismissed.

I was taken aback by how flippantly he disregarded the mention of me. Had something in my leaving offended him? What would make him think my absence concerned him?

Emmett found his response hilarious.

“Damn! I’m glad someone can put you in your place!” He guffawed.

I turned to scowl at him.

“A pyre…” Alice teasingly resumed her poor fortune teller impression, her fingers again on her temple.

A warm smile spread across my face, and as a result of my family’s stupid banter, I found myself finally feeling calmer.

My smile dropped immediately when I heard the boy sharply breathe in.

“Relax,” Rosalie reminded me, her brilliant eyes reassuring.

I nodded, though I felt my face contort in pain and stress.

“You’re looking sick, Bella,” she accused.

“Do you wanna leave?” Emmett offered, his amusement having vanished.

Jasper raised an eyebrow, sensing my building emotion.

“No!” I snapped, exasperated. It took everything in me to keep from slamming my hands on the table. Now was not the time to destroy public property.

“She’ll be fine, really. No, great, actually. I’d say we’re not helping, but I wonder if her frustration with us is what’s strengthening her resolve,” Alice grinned. “Her future keeps getting clearer. If anything, maybe he’ll stay alive just so she can prove a point.”

Everyone joined my dark-haired sister in her melodic laughter.

I’d had enough of lunch for today.

I rose from the table, carrying my full tray.

“Oh, don’t leave, Bella! Where are you going?” Rose asked.

“I’m going-”

“-to the biology classroom,” Alice finished for me.

“You’re all particularly vexing today, so please don’t follow me. But if you hear a massacre of screaming children, feel free to join.”

“Shall I call Carlisle and Esme? It’d be poor manners to not extend an invitation if we’re slaughtering the townsfolk.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Let’s go out with a bang,” I frowned, speaking quietly enough to where only my family could hear, dumping my tray in the garbage can and exiting the cafeteria.

I felt his eyes on me the entire time.

I was fortunate that Mr. Molina wasn’t in his classroom during his lunch break. I had no desire to attempt civil conversation that would make the both of us uncomfortable. The door was unlocked, though that didn’t matter much.

I sat at my usual seat, neatly placing my books atop the lab table. Closing my eyes, I distracted myself for the remainder of the lunch hour by focusing on the flux of unchanged oxygen expelling from my lungs and the thrum of raindrops against the roof slowly becoming the feather-soft flutter of snowflakes.

Once my peers began to file into the room, I uncomfortably suspended my breathing once again. I listened to the rowdy sound of the footsteps, wondering which would be the boy’s, hoping to distinguish them from the rest as if they’d be any different.

Shortly after the cheerful whistle of the lively biology teacher sounded the room as he entered, I became aware of a sturdy footfall approaching my table.

Though I couldn’t smell him, I knew at once it was the boy as the heat of his body warmed the air around me. Nobody else in this classroom would dare get as close unless they were condemned to sit in the chair beside me as he was. Even the temperature enveloping my skin was enough to warrant venom to pool in my mouth.

I restrained myself from sighing aloud at the oncoming war that would rage within me, refusing to waste the oxygen I had stored.

Though the responsible and kind action to take would be to introduce myself as to not make myself even more distinguishable from the other humans with unwarranted ignorance and hostility, I continued to face forward with my eyes closed, my forehead puckering.

My eyes snapped open as he noisily settled into his seat, carelessly spilling his books across his side of our lab table.

After a moment, I decided I wouldn’t want to be held accountable for potential whispers about my family, so it’d be better to say something.

Just as I was about to speak, turning my head in his direction, he surprised me by speaking first.

“Hello,” the boy greeted me quietly, his smile charming and polite. His green eyes were soft and wise, full of some meaning I couldn’t decipher. I listened to the beating of his heart, trying to detect if the rhythm would expose any fear. I never needed to blink, but habitually my eyes fluttered rapidly as I processed the shock that this human had the bravery to speak to me first. Habitually, because of the years I’d adjusted to mimicry of human responses and expressions, but the action was still wrong. Much too fast. I wondered if he had picked up on the blurred motion. “You’re back.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I simply agreed. “Yes.”

I turned away again, forgetting that I had intended to share my name out of courtesy. My brain was much too full of distracting thoughts. Here my temptation was willingly conversing with me. Was he mad? Where was his innate sense of self-preservation? He should be recoiling away from the proximity as I was, though for different reasons. I could easily talk him into walking away with me to his death. For both of our sakes, it’d be preferable to keep our interactions to a minimum. How much acquaintanceship did biology partners really require?

As the teacher wrote out today’s objective on the chalkboard, it seemed it’d require more acquaintanceship than I’d like – or that the boy could afford.

“My name is Edward Masen.” He spoke with a calculated, inviting voice. “You’re Bella Cullen,” he continued when I hadn’t replied.

I nodded stupidly, refusing to look anywhere but ahead of me. It was both wonderfully and terribly warm next to his body heat. I swallowed the venom that did nothing to quench the ever-present thirst.

“I take it you’re not too enthused to have me as a biology partner,” he chuckled gently, his eyes intrusively still focused on the side of my face.

I frowned at this unpleasant assumption that was absolutely spot-on.

“I wouldn’t take it personally,” I stated gingerly, trying to speak in a voice he wouldn’t find frightening.

“The expression on your face last week seemed a very personal reaction,” he pressed, an edge to his voice despite his attempt to say this casually.

He had noticed.

I hadn’t thought it’d be possible to feel any more uneasy.

“I was sick,” I defended myself lamely.

“And now you’re feeling better?”

“Not particularly.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his thick eyebrows slightly pull upwards at my response. His eyes continued to study me, full of that puzzling emotion.

Whatever his reaction meant I couldn’t focus on now even with my simultaneously thinking brain. I was out of air, and the fear that accompanied the thought of inhaling to speak again was overwhelming.

My body tensed for the brutality, my muscles frozen as I turned my head even further away to quickly breathe through my mouth so as to avoid his scent.

The potency was just as painful as it had been last week, a wrecking ball of desire desiccating my burning throat as the taste of the tainted air settled onto my tongue.

I was a creature of ice brimming with fire.

I wrestled for coherency, desperately trying to compose myself again as Mr. Molina explained today’s assignment, rescuing me from the agony of conversation.

Today’s lab required working together alongside your table partner.

I hadn’t experienced such a series of bad luck since I had been human.

The boy – or I suppose I should refer to him by his first name now that introductions had occurred – turned to face me again once our teacher finished instruction. He smiled a crooked smile. “Ladies first, partner?”

“Why don’t you begin?” I offered, utilizing all of my strength to uncomfortably half-smile in return.

He paused for a moment, his eyes suspended on my face. It was the first time he had lost some of his inexplicable coolness. The pace of his heartbeat – a painful reminder of his fragility – sped up. Had I done something to frighten him?

“If you wish,” he recovered, slightly shaking his head, his tousled bronze hair swaying with the movement. While I was mystified as to what his reaction meant, most of my thought was absorbed with relief that I had breathed prior to this action. I had no doubt that it would have sent the craving slamming into me like a wall of cement. I tried to ignore the appealing flush of a subtle, light pink that briefly colored the skin beneath his cheekbones.

He reached for the shabby microscope on the table along with a slide from a small cardboard box.

“Prophase,” he announced after a very brief examination. “Can I look?” I asked.

“You don’t trust me?” He smirked as he pulled his face away from the equipment.

“No,” I replied.

He laughed at my genuine answer, and instinctually, I reached to stop his hand from removing the slide.

It was an idiotic mistake. How many feelings of violence could I experience? This severity was different but no less overpowering. The heat of his skin burned mine electrically as if I had been struck by lightning. The sensation shot through my arm, and I was ablaze like a live wire.

“Sorry,” I blurted, grinding my razor-sharp teeth together. I didn’t want to see his reaction to the strikingly chilling temperature of my granite-like skin, so I buried my face in the microscope, looking through the eyepiece, allowing my long, dark hair to spill across the table as a wall between us.

“Prophase,” I whispered. He had been correct.

The thirst was ferocious and the charge in my body exorbitant. I concentrated very intensely on filling out the lab sheet, writing our answer along the first line.

He silently switched the slide to the next, and I cringed, wondering how my touch had felt to him.

“Anaphase,” I whispered again after a peek through the eyepiece.

“Do you mind if I look?”

Surprised, I glanced up to meet his expectant viridescent gaze.

“You don’t trust me?” I repeated his words from earlier. As if I could be incorrect.

“Definitely not,” he smiled wryly, humor lighting up his irises before leaning in to examine the slide.

I couldn’t help but smile too.

“You shouldn’t,” I joked, though partly I was unable to restrain myself – stupidly, as if I could truly be honest with him – from providing him a fair warning.

He paused, his hand on the tube of the microscope, turning his face towards me. His eyebrows pulled together inquisitively, but his lips curved upwards slightly. “And why is that?”

I glanced away, turning my attention back to the sheet of paper, desperately trying to think of anything other than his blood.

When it became clear I wasn’t willing to provide an answer, he resumed his observation. “Next slide?”

He reached for the following slide, and I dropped it into his hand, avoiding contact with his skin this time.

We continued the lab with minimal conversation, sliding the microscope between us and double checking the answers. I wrote the majority of the answers down, though he wrote a few at the end. His script was far more elegant than I was expecting from a teenage boy.

We were the first students to complete the lab while the rest of the class seemed to be struggling to properly identify the stages of mitosis. Maybe I should have hesitated longer in my examinations so we wouldn’t be left with so much remaining time for tension and uncomfortable silence to fill. I periodically took excruciating breaths, hoping to build up more resistance.

I noticed a sandy blonde student – I think her name was Sara – at a table diagonal from us overly engrossed in making continual glances back this way. I was shocked to catch her shooting me a dirty look, unaware anyone felt antagonistic towards me.

I wondered if she was interested in Edward. I found myself amused by the thought she could be developing resentment for that reason. If only she knew the kind of interest the boy held for me.

Mr. Molina made his rounds to check on the students’ progress. When he saw our lack of activity, he approached our table.

“Miss Cullen,” he began, looking over our answers through his glasses. “You didn’t want to share your microscope with our new student?”

I withheld a smile, unused to anything remotely related to chastisement in classes I didn’t share with Emmett, though even in those lessons we rarely got in trouble.

“Actually, Mr. Molina. She was very accommodating. We both identified the slides and double checked each other’s answers. Bella was just our primary scribe.”

“Ah,” our teacher nodded, still skeptical.

“I’ve done this lab before,” Edward shrugged. “I was always in advanced placement programs at my other schools.”

I processed this information, unsurprised by the confirmation of his intelligence. The assertiveness of his words also confirmed my suspicions that he was pretentious.

“Wonderful,” the man smiled, his tan face impressed. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s a good thing the two of you are partners. You should have raised your hand to let me know you completed the lab. Let me go grab the golden onion, so I can present it to you-”

“That’s alright. We don’t need the award, prestigious as it may be,” Edward chuckled. “You can let some other students have it. I don’t mind missing out on the bonus points.”

“And you, Miss Cullen?”

“I’m fine,” I smiled reassuringly.

“Very well. Good work,” he left to check on another table. As he turned, I took advantage of the fresh gush of uncorrupted air that flew in my direction.

After a moment, Edward spoke again, slightly leaning towards me. Was this stupid man lacking a sense of danger?

“The kids here have a lot of commentary about your family.”

Of course I knew that to be true, but I was taken aback with his bluntness. “I’m sure they do.”

“So what led you to move here?” He asked too innocently, clearly attempting to uncover secrets.

“I would have thought the students here would have provided you with satisfactory gossip.”

“I’d rather hear the story from you.”

My eyes narrowed slightly, trying to discern the motivation behind his interest. Was it simply curiosity or was there more? “Esme, my oldest sister, prefers life in a small town… Shouldn’t I be the one questioning your reasons for moving here?”

Despite my harsh tone, he smiled his crooked smile. “You’re the first student who’s not expressed much interest in me.”

I shrugged stiffly, returning my attention back to staring blankly at the front of the room.

“Well, other than your incomprehensible opposition to having me as a partner on my first day. I’d say that qualifies as interest.”

“I already told you I was sick.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he conceded, though something in his tone implied he didn’t completely believe me. “...You said oldest sister...I thought the other two weren’t your siblings.”

I froze.

“I consider Rosalie and my cousin Alice to be my sisters as well.”

He nodded, taking in the information.

“So, are you going to ask?” He asked after a moment.

“What?” I snapped, turning to him again.

“You’re not questioning my reasons for moving here?” He grinned.

“No,” I retaliated, growing irritated. I should attempt to be warm and pleasant the way a responsible Cullen would, but I was already too preoccupied with the terrible physical ways he was affecting me that I cared little for the mental ways.

“Oh,” he laughed softly. “Am I annoying you?”

I could tell he was used to being considered charismatic by the way my indifference amused him.

“No,” I lied and he chuckled again, not believing me. I turned to meet his gaze and found myself trapped there. His eyes were warm and captivating. My frustration nearly evaporated. “Though you are very much arrogant.” The grin didn’t leave his face at my words. He seemed appreciative of my honesty. “I’m more annoyed with myself than anything.”

“Why?”

“Okay, now, you’re annoying me.” I turned away to inhale, pausing to let the desire simmer until I could control myself once more.

“Then I’ll leave you alone. I should know better than to have bothered you when you were clearly in a bad mood.”

“A bad mood?”

“Yes, I saw you when you were at lunch before you left. It seemed your family was provoking you. You looked as if you were about to fight the bigger guy.”

“My brother, Emmett.”

“Emmett,” he nodded, trying out the name for recognition. “Something tells me you could take him,” he teased, and I surprisingly found myself smirking.

“I don’t imagine you’ll share what’s causing you to be in a bad mood...but can I ask why you were staring at me?”

“Are you always this direct?” I asked, exasperated.

“Not always. I just find you particularly difficult to read.”

“You must be a very good reader then.” If he considered me a difficult case to decipher but nevertheless made the astute observations that he did, he must be immensely perceptive, a factor that made this situation immeasurably worse.

“Usually.” He smiled his crooked smile again.

After a minuscule measure of time, I responded. “No, you cannot ask.”

“I didn’t think so,” Edward’s smile grew into a beam, revealing near-perfect, white teeth.

“Why do you care?” I demanded, the thirst festering around the edges of my resolve.

At this question, his face dropped into a thoughtful frown. “That’s a very good question.”

Though I unexpectedly found myself engrossed in the meaning of this response and the answer behind the question, I was interrupted as Mr. Molina called for the class’s attention. He over-dramatically presented the golden onion to a pair composed of a ridiculous class clown of a boy and his quieter female partner. The boy enthusiastically received the silly prize as the rest of the class hooted and hollered. Mr. Molina cut the boy off as the kid began to address his peers, notifying him that the award didn’t require an acceptance speech.

But my attention was absorbed in something other than the class shenanigans.

Suddenly, I was fascinated in the boy’s fascination. Of course, we were interesting. That was undeniable. Our kind was designed to draw in the curiosity of his kind. Everything about me – the sweet scent of my skin, the beauty of my features, the velvet sound of my voice – was intricately fashioned to bring him closer. It was enormously unjustified the abilities we were equipped with to trap and kill our prey. There was no abnormality in a human having interest in us. It happened often. When we moved to a new place, we expected the initial inquisitions, though eventually, they died down once our disinterest in fully assimilating into their community became clear. We became then simply a strange story about a strange family. Occasionally, a human would hold particular interest in us, overly intrigued in what we are. The differences between us were abundantly clear, but this particular human wouldn’t dismiss them for the comfort of preserving their carefully constructed world of normalcy like the others around them. It was a rarity for that kind of human to guess what we were correctly.

However, Alice would watch for us, and before they could, we’d vanish.

He might not be the particular human who guessed correctly, but what were the odds that this human, the human whose blood sang to me, would be the particular human who was too curious for their own good?

I was fascinated with this absurdity.

Must it be him who sees too clearly? Suddenly, despite his arrogance, his pretension, his invasiveness, I was curious about this human boy with too many questions.

The odds were towering above us both. Here was a human who unwittingly, perfunctorily threatened everything that made up the tiny niche of peace in this existence. Whatever the differential may be, I lusted more so for the blood in his veins more than I had for any blood. And because I refused to be a monster, this human boy would live. And because he would live, he’d be able to devote thought to his observations about me. Here was a human who was watching too carefully, noticing nothing consequential yet, but seeing enough to warrant caution about his surveillance. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was damned to expose us in some way. Either by taking his life or by being watched too closely.

And it was worse for him. If I made a mistake either way, we could clean up the mess left behind. After a few decades, the guilt would hopefully ease as it did for my siblings. But for him, here was a vampire whose previously impressively stable sense of self control was in incoherent disarray. Here was a vampire who had a desire seemingly tailored precisely for the scent he carried. Here was a vampire who had a sudden intrigue in why it was him, this intruding, annoying man of a boy, to be the one to weaken her. There’d be nothing for him if I made a mistake. No more life to live.

The best case scenario would be that I’d become a distant nightmare.

Why had we been placed on this earth if not to be a perfectly designed pair of predator and prey?

Perhaps it was kismet. Sickening, grotesque kismet.

Well, I would fight fate. I would not allow this boy to bother me any longer. He would not make a monster of me, and I would not be the cause for any suspicions that my family was anything other than what we portray ourselves to be.

He can ask all of his questions, but his scrutiny will eventually fade just as it did for most of the other humans like him.

His attempts to read and examine will be futile and disappointing.

I felt satisfied enough with my conclusions that I almost thought to smile victoriously and say goodbye to him, but the part of my brain still devoted to annoyance kept me still.

When the bell rang, I leaped from my seat and exited the classroom, leaving the boy behind.

Once I was a safe distance away, I thankfully breathed in the wonderful, clean air, even inviting the subtle burn from the students’ less appetizing blood that almost unnoticeably singed my nose and throat.

As I passed by the door of the Spanish class that was my next period, I yanked the arm of my brother Emmett, who had been waiting for me against the wall of lockers, dragging him alongside me, though no one watching would recognize my strength.

“How did it go?” He questioned as he began to freely follow beside me with no resistance.

I took advantage of his wariness.

“We have to clean up,” I whispered harshly in a low volume.

“Seriously!?” I sensed his body tense at the news. “Damn, Rose is gonna be pissed! I mean, I know she won’t be that upset with you, but-”

Before his light-speed prattle could go on any further, I cut him off.

“No, you dummy. I was joking. Do you smell a classroom of dead children?”

“Oh,” his nostrils flared slightly as he inspected the air. “No, but I thought maybe you really let loose and drained them all.”

I frowned. “I have to say this is one of our more morbid conversations.”

“We’re not going to Spanish class?” “No.” We exited the brick building into the grey, showery parking lot. The surrounding firs were heavily saturated in their shades of dark green against the clouded sky.

“Alright! I like when you break the rules! Where we going?” His right hand made a large fist that eagerly met the palm of his left hand as if we were about to embark on some adventure in which I required backup.

“The car?” I answered the obvious question as the rain poured down, soaking his curly hair, making it appear even blacker, drenching my dark hair into a slick waterfall against my back, and washing away the small amount of snow that had fallen an hour ago.

“The car?” He asked, confused.

The rain smelled wonderful – like pine needles, spearmint, and eucalyptus. The droplets massaged my skin as they slid across the smooth surface, warm against the similar temperature.

Although I was free from Edward for now, a small part of me was reserved with some caution, so I crossed the parking lot at a slow pace as if we were being watched.

Once inside the vehicle, I placed a new disc into the CD player, unwilling to wrestle with the sometimes fickle bluetooth that often refused to surrender its connection to Rosalie’s cellphone. I was too impatient to continue life at a human speed right now.

I leaned the driver’s seat all the way back, and Emmett mirrored me in the passenger seat.

“So how was it really?” He asked.

“It was...odd,” I hesitated. “Better in some ways than last week but worse in others.”

“How’d he smell?”

“Just as good,” I groaned, placing my hands over my face as venom collected in my mouth at the memory.

“Well, that sucks,” Emmett chuckled, his long fingers tapping along to the rhythm of the song against the door of the car.

“I actually spoke to him today. Well, I guess he spoke to me.” I sighed, removing my hands from covering up my expressions.

“Oh, yeah? Did he explain his weird apathy about you? I got a real kick out of that.” My brother turned to face me, his head laying against the headrest, beaming widely, his snowy teeth blinding.

“That’s the thing – he’s not apathetic about me. I’d do anything for some apathy! I don’t understand his reaction in the cafeteria, but that along with his line of questioning today-”

“Line of questioning?”

“Yes, he’s very annoying!” I huffed.

“Sounds like you.”

“Keep in mind I promised murder today, and so far the boy made it away from me without so much as a scrape. You might not be so lucky.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes, and facing the car roof.

“Anyways, he was far too...overly invested. He noticed my expression last week. I didn’t think he’d assume that the way I left the classroom had anything to do with him, but he’s seemed to have made the connection somehow. Maybe that offended him in some way, but I’m concerned he’s...noticing more than he should. I’m not sure, but I have a bad feeling.”

“Humans have wondered about us before. He’s the new kid, so I mean, it makes sense he has questions.” “We are an odd looking group,” I agreed. “Hey, speak for yourself. I think the rest of us look pretty normal. Now, you...you’re a little funny looking.”

“Every day, I mourn that I have to spend eternity with you,” I snickered with him.

After a moment, I nodded. “I guess you’re right. His curiosity will fade.”

“And will your thirst, do you think?”

To that, neither of us had an answer.

“Hey, nobody died today.”

“Yet,” I reminded him.

“Yet,” Emmett agreed tauntingly. “I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long.” “What choice do I have!?” I demanded. “What would you have done?”

He shrugged. “We all mess up. Sometimes a person just smells too good.”

“Your regard for human life today is really amazing,” I glared.

“Sorry I’m not the patron saint of human life,” he chuckled.

“Well, I’m not either,” I shrugged.

We fell into a comfortable silence, something unusual between us lately. This kind of moment was more common between Jasper and myself. With all the time we’d spent together in this eternity we share, we could of course spend long amounts of time quietly beside one another, but in the past few years, Emmett and I had been in another phase of mischief. Often, the quietness was a thing of suspicion, a warning that one of us was conjuring up some plan to mess with the other. But the two of us laid back in the car, entirely motionless, listening to the music and the rain.

An hour or so later when the bell signaling the end of school rang and students began filing out of the old buildings, I raised the seat back into its previous position and exited the car so that Rosalie could take her usual place behind the steering wheel.

Emmett remained in the passenger seat as I leaned against the car, the drizzling rain wetting my long hair again.

Alice and Jasper arrived at the car first. In addition to the excited after-school chatter, I could hear what was stalling my other sister in the farthest building: Rosalie was in conversation with her psychology teacher, subtly encouraging the educator to branch from the syllabus, suggesting that another day with greater focus on analyzing physiological, cognitive, and behavioral strategies to combat psychophysiological reactions to stress and trauma would be very beneficial for the class and interesting information to learn. As if someone with a doctoral degree in psychology had anything to learn from a high school senior level psychology class.

“I saw a vision of you and Em skip class just to listen to music. Very angsty teenage human of you,” Alice grinned.

“I’m all about upholding our image,” I winked.

“You’re in a much brighter mood,” Jasper remarked.

“Well, just like my angsty teenage peers, I’m very eager to escape the hell that is high school and go home.”

“Hell, indeed,” Jasper half-smiled, intaking one last shallow breathful of the students’ scent as he slid into the back of the car.

“How can this be hell when I’m in the presence of an angel?” Alice sang to Jasper while Emmett and I groaned.

“Oh, shut up,” she chortled as she joined my brothers in the car. She gently – as to not destroy the interior – kicked the back of Emmett’s seat.

“I’d have said purgatory prior to last week,” I sighed wistfully.

As Rosalie wished the teacher a good night and exited her classroom, I listened for the willowy sound of her feet against the rain-soaked pavement.

In waiting for the appearance of her otherworldly face, I watched as the boy exited one of the brick buildings into the rainfall that had become a mist. The droplets falling into his tousled hair made it appear darker than it had looked under the fluorescence of the biology classroom. The moisture didn’t seem to bother him as he strode across the parking lot, not concerned with rushing to reach his car. A small, leather-bound journal was clenched in his right hand.

His vehicle was sleek, black, and much nicer than the other students’ cars. I wondered if his aggravating self assurance came from wealth.

It seemed he sensed the intensity of my stare. Edward looked up inquisitively, glancing around him. He waved to one of the students that called out to him before his green eyes settled on mine. Seeing that it was me who was gazing at him again, his face lit up in a smile. I could hear the softness as he laughed, shaking his head, and ducked into the drivers’ seat of his car. Our hold was lost until he readjusted the rearview mirror, and once again I could see the half moons of his enlivened eyes.

“Are you ready, Bella?” Rosalie asked, already turning the engine on. I had barely paid any notice to her approach.

“Yes,” I turned, sliding into the seat next to Alice.

Despite myself, the fact that something about my stare was of some ambiguous amusing importance to him had a smile pulling at the corners of my lips as well.

i hope u enjoyed <3 and...i know, i know... we all love to roast edward. & we all love the idea of a nerdy little redhead. i KNOW. i'm sorry. but i think what we all forget sometimes is that our sweet, sensitive, easy to make fun of edward is also an annoying, smug, cocky know-it-all. and bella, even in her newfound vampiric confidence, is still a quiet bookworm trying to mind her own business. u can fight me in my ask box. pls be gentle. also, i have adopted mr. molina of the film twilight because we do NOT support pedophiles. green is what? good. having a crush on ur high school student is what? weird & u should be fired immediately & should have NEVER been in a position where u work with children.

#twilight fanfiction #twilight #twilight renaissance #equinoxjw #jasperwhitcock #the twilight saga #twilight saga #bella swan #edward cullen #jacob black #rosalie hale #jasper hale #alice cullen #emmett cullen #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn

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oh-boleyn · 4 years

Text

jane / infamy

words: 6216, one shot, language: english

anne / jane / katherine / catherine

as I said on my ao3, this might be my last one shot in a while (I’m really struggling with college right now, like in this moment I should be doing two assigments which... clearly I’m not doing), but still I hope you all enjoy this piece of garbage of story!

TW: canon, Jane being mean? probably more swearing that what is expected from a jane one shot

the commentary between scenes are things I got from internet about Jane Seymour

Remembered for: being the only wife to provide Henry with a son and male heir.

(…)

Jane Seymour was relieved.

The light is brighter, and her dizziness is starting to fade.

No more pain or ache in her lower body, and she feels quite better than in a long time. Her arms are longing to hold her baby, dear Edward, who has just secured her the position of queen.

She opens her eyes, but instead of finding her chambers, she is in a strange looking room, with Anne Boleyn and Catherine of Aragon. Jane wants to cry, knowing immediately what it meant. She is dead, there is no other way to turn it around. She died and was found guilty of her sins, was it her hell? Being with the other two queens? God punishment for seducing a married man?

They all stare at each other, not knowing how to proceed.

(…)

Virtue and common good sense.

(…)

The new house is nothing like what she was used to, and sharing a room with both Catherines wasn’t exactly in her dreams.

She had less problems with accepting Catherine rather than Anne, after all, with the last the relationship had been more than rocky, but Catherine probably wasn’t Jane’s biggest fan either. Even after the older queen’s death, Jane had always tried her best with Mary, attempting to help her image, trying to reconcile with the religion.

Parr wasn’t bad, but she was quite closed. They weren’t acquaintances in their past lives, but that didn’t mean Catherine would introduce herself and invite her to grab a snack or something. It was hard to think about her, how connected both were but how apart too. The most she would talk was about history, or science, or another thing Jane couldn’t bring herself to truly understand and would be left just nodding along.

(…)

When she died, he actually sunk into depression, officially mourning her for two years before marrying again.

(…)

Looking for a job is not an easy task, it’s not like she ever had to do that before. Her kinsman secured her a good place as the lady of the queen, and even when the court became hostile and fell apart, she managed to still have her place.

But now jobs required so much, not just her needlework and knowing how to perform the arts —whatever arts you want that to mean. Modern positions searched for way too many qualities she doesn’t have.

When Catherine offers the idea of doing a show, she says yes out of desperation of not knowing how to do anything else, not even how get the oven to work. Once it goes out of her mouth, she truly wishes the rest of the queens don’t notice how needy she is of the opportunity.

(…)

By that account, she was practically a saint!

(…)

Opening night was stressful to say the least. There are at least a hundred pairs of eyes on her, and her song – her song! While everyone clapped along Aragon’s and Boleyn’s, her part was different, way out of the upbeat modern pop style.

She couldn’t even have a fun, upbeat song.

It’s not like she didn’t want to, Jane tried so hard to add comic relief to her story, trying puns and obnoxious screaming. But her song was slow, more of a ballad instead of the pop-rock songs the show featured. And, to top it, she was the only one who talked about understanding Henry, about loving him, staying by his side.

Of fucking course, she had to be the sweet woman who just happened to love a horrible man.

(…)

Jane was Henry’s true love.

(…)

It is hard to fill her place, her own shoes she left behind when she died.

Jane Seymour, known because she was the one he truly loved. The one he asked to be painted years after she died, instead of just letting her rest in peace. Jane, the dutiful wife, the one who had the son he so desperately wanted.

And the audience loved it, they loved to see the dutiful mother, the one who can’t stop talking about her son. They cheered, they heard everything they always knew.

Because she wasn’t an interesting character in the story, she was just another woman there to obey the orders of the king.

She wishes she was known for something else, but that’s not her life. Of course, playing another character would be fun, being the temptress, the evil stepmother, the fun one, someone people actually cared about. Instead, she was the tedious, boring perfect wife. Reduced to her uterus capacity, and ability to shut her mouth.

(…)

I assure you she is as gentle a lady as ever I knew, and as fair a Queen as any in Christendom.

(…)

“Good morning, Katherine.” Jane says.

The teenager enters the kitchen with heavy steps, still not quite awake from the night of sleep.

“Morning.” She replies, voice small.

“Would you like something to eat?”

“Do you know how to cook?” Katherine retorts, a smug look on her face. “Don’t worry, I will buy something. Maybe cheesecake? Or apple pie?”

“Why not a chocolate cake.” Jane offers, getting the water off of the stove, almost burning herself in the process.

“Do you like chocolate cake?” The younger asks, “I would have pinned you as a vanilla kind of person.”

Jane feels judged. The smile on Katherine’s face just says it all.

“I prefer it, but never mind.” The teenager finishes.

(…)

Here lies Jane, a phoenix / Who died in giving another phoenix birth.

(…)

They move into a new house.

The moment Jane enters her new room, she knows it will take at least two months to get it completely clean. There are spiderwebs, and the white walls look more of a light grey. She makes mental notes to buy bleach, and other cleaning supplies.

At least her bed is clean, but she makes sure it doesn’t touch any wall for the sake of it not getting dirty.

(…)

Jane Seymour was a kind woman too, a better person than Anne.

(…)

“Are we coming to the bar tonight?” Anna asks.

Cleves is nothing less than an interesting character to say the least. They never got to meet in their past lives, but the woman knew her son. She even lived long enough to see him dead.

“I’m not sure,” Jane replies, “I don’t think that Boleyn is going to want me there.”

“But I would want you there.” The fourth queen says easily. “If it’s your decision, that’s alright, but I would like you to come.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

(…)

Her ladies-in-waiting and her maids were held to a strict code of behavior and insisted that they “serve God and be virtuous”.

(…)

The people, and society as a whole has changed.

Feminism is a common term, and women can –almost, to a certain point– hold the same power as men do.

Still, Jane feels more judged than ever. In her past life it was easy, if she did exactly what she was told, nobody would question her. She was bound to serve and obey, and planned to let everyone know about it. Unlike Anne, she was not going to take her chances. She couldn’t say that it brings her happiness, but it gave her peace of mind.

Nobody would contradict the orders of their king.

Nowadays it is different. People talk about freedom, about being able to own yourself, your body, your choices. Nonetheless, they talk about her. Judged her for saying good things about Henry in her speech, for loving him when it was her only choice.

It was her choice to keep her hair long, not like Anna’s. Her choice to wear make-up, to prefer dresses rather than pants. To talk about her son, to own her past. The public sometimes hated her for it, for her decisions, calling them a part of patriarchy leftover from the century in which she used to live.

They hate that she reduces herself to it, to being a mother, to fill what was expected of her, but that is still the only thing they know about her.

(…)

Jane herself was known for her quiet and soothing manner.

(…)

She sometimes sees it; the way Aragon and Boleyn are mothers.

Sometimes it is just a word, a name. Something totally irrelevant that snaps them into it, into caring in a way only mothers do. The way they treat Katherine, or how they look at a little kid on the street. How they talk to the younger fans of the show.

Jane feels like she doesn’t have it. She doesn’t care about babies and kids. Doesn’t have an attachment to them, to the idea of being a mother. If someone handed her a baby she would probably freeze and don’t know how to proceed.

Was it justice? Did she die so Edward wouldn’t have to put through with her as a mother?

Jane thinks she was just not born for that, to have a kid, to care for them. There were women who had maternal instincts, but she didn’t. Instead, when having to tend for Katherine, she grew overwhelmed, not having a clue of what to do next.

(…)

We will never know if Jane sought the king’s favor or was a frightened pawn of her family and the king’s desire.

(…)

“Would you like to go to brunch tomorrow?” Aragon asks one day.

It’s Saturday night, which means she is totally exhausted after a two show day, but still, she nods. Slowly, Aragon and Jane had started to rebuild the good relationship they once had. Both of them holding so much respect for the other.

“Have you seen Kat?” Parr interrupts Jane’s thoughts.

“She was here just a minute ago.” Aragon says, looking around.

“Well, Anne is looking for her and there’s no trace of where she could be.” The survivor explains quickly.

“Let’s look for her.” The first queen concludes, taking action.

They pass fans, excusing themselves, still taking a few pictures just for the sake of fulfilling the stagedoor the queens always did. Once they are out, a cold breeze hits their faces. Walking through the streets seems dangerous, but luckily enough Kat is near, curled up in herself. They signal to Anne and Anna to quickly come with them.

“Kitty, can you hear me?” Anne is fast to get on her knees, getting to be at the same height as Katherine.

“We should take her inside,” Jane states, “it’s not safe here.”

“Outside air can help, Jane.” Boleyn snaps at her. “Kat?”

She wishes she could be mad at her, but at the same time the second queen is just trying to do the best for her cousin. She acts almost instinctive, as if anyone would do that. The way she stays near her, but without invading personal space amazes Jane, even if that decision makes sense. She would’ve tried to pull the younger girl closer, thinking about it makes it seem like not such a good idea, the immediate response to fight or flight after a panic attack wouldn’t help.

“I’m okay.” Her voice is small. “Can we go home?”

Jane nods, and starts walking behind her towards the car. It comes as a surprise the fact that Katherine rides with them, instead of Anne and Anna as she usually does, but they don’t say a thing. She maintains her eyes on the girl, worried about her.

Once they arrive, Katherine is the first to get into the house, leaving the other two queens alone.

“I’m worried about her, should we try to have a talk?” Jane asks, Catherine denies with her head.

“No, we have to just make her trust us,” she says easily, “once she does, if needed she will come to us. Confrontation is mostly not the way to go with teenagers.”

“How do you know that?”

Aragon smiles.

(…)

She was the only one of his wives to be buried next to him.

(…)

If Jane said that she never wanted to be queen, it would be a lie.

The idea always sounded appealing. Who wouldn’t want to be one? Even in a modern context, girls still pretended to be queens, to live in the prettiest castles. Being queen came with power, not nearly as much as men had, but still a fair amount. The chance to change things, to have opinions. Not counting how good it could be to the family, to secure a future.

Jane would be lying if she ever said that becoming a queen was not something she longed for. But she didn’t want Anne to suffer such a horrible death, no matter if it was or wasn’t fair.

(She used to think that another kind of death wouldn’t be as bad, to die for natural causes would just be God’s will, and to have a divorce would be the Man’s will.

Now she thinks every ending is horrible until proven different.)

In this life she kept quiet about it, knowing how she might have interfered in what Henry ultimately did to Anne. She preferred to not talk about her time as queen, how he threatened her with the same fate her predecessor suffered.

She once thinks about boarding the subject with Parr. She saw that the writer went through the same, a warrant order for her head that was never finished, and the painful death after a childbirth. Still, she doesn’t do so, knowing that her and the survivor are not the same.

Catherine Parr was smart, got her way because of her words. Jane Seymour was just the ignorant fool who kept quiet to please the man.

(…)

The ladies in waiting were expected to wear a belt of pearls with at least 120 pearls in them, and if they didn’t, they weren’t allowed to appear before her.

(…)

“Did you bring something for the cold?” Jane interrogates.

“Yeah, my pink sweater, I left it in the dressing room.” Katherine explains.

“Okay, I will look for it, finish taking your makeup off.” She orders.

The third queen stops staring at the queen, instead looking around. Finding the piece of clothing, she reaches out for it, but winces for a moment when the younger talks.

“Jane, just stop it, okay?” Katherine asks.

“It’s cold, put on a coat or something more, you will catch a cold.” She tried to give the teenager her pink sweater, but all she got was rejection.

“Just don’t. Stop acting as if I’m a child.”

It doesn’t come as a surprise, after all, Katherine usually snapped at her.

“You are nineteen.” Jane indicated, anger bubbling up in her voice.

“I am like almost five hundred years old.” There was bitterness in the statement. “Nobody cared about me being eighteen when the king beheaded me. They didn’t even care when I was younger, why now?”

“Because I care about you.” The words come out before she can really think about it.

Did she really? Cared for the younger?

Of course, she didn’t want harm to come to her, but then again also not to any of all the strangers she knew in this life. Nonetheless there is something about Katherine, an innocence, a broken past. Jane wanted to take care of the girl, to help her through whatever she was going through.

“You shouldn’t.”

It comes out almost aggressive, like a threat. The queen who died of natural causes doesn’t know how to feel about it.

(…)

She learned pretty quickly that it was best to stay out of religion and politics, and instead focused her energy on domestic issues.

(…)

Jane doesn’t break like Katherine, but she still does.

The way Katherine breaks suddenly, they can all point at that moment and say that is when she started changing. Harming herself in not obvious ways, drinking more caffeine than what she should, sleeping less, eating the unhealthiest food she can find. They notice, but their own egos and need to not gossip in order to not be the catty bitches fighting against each other like history has painted stop them from acting as a group.

Instead, the way Jane breaks is slowly, anger destroying her. Consuming every inch of her, growing and taking parts of her life.

It starts as a bitter, indignant feeling when she is left to cook or help cleaning up, but it quickly grows. Gets infuriating, maddening when people call her good . She is not, she might have been in another life, but not in this one. She was not innocent, but rather had a fair amount of guilt. It evolves to be hostile when she realizes that nothing will change it.

Jane Seymour, the mother figure who not only failed at being educated and staying alive, but also failed at having maternal instincts. The good queen, who did nothing but harm. The mother of the king, a king who died young and so did she.

She hates herself for it.

(…)

Her ladies-in-waiting and her maids were held to a strict code of behavior and insisted that they “serve God and be virtuous”.

(…)

She tries to self-isolate, to take a step away.

It doesn’t help, instead the anger comes back stronger each time, and she hates it. Jane hates how violent the feeling can be, how abrasive. She controls herself as she had always done, but it doesn’t make it any better, a resentment towards her fellow queens growing.

Seymour was not a jealous woman, not in her past life and not in this one. She didn’t want to be like the other queens knowing that there were so many things wrong in their lives. It was not about it.

It was about making a mistake, and how she never got to commit those. Jane couldn’t regret anything in her life without someone telling her that “she had it easy”, after all, she was the one he “truly loved”. Even when her problems were addressed, it always came before a way to minimize it, or worse, blame her for them.

The queens knew that it was none of their faults, but people still pinned them against each other, choosing favourites, giving each other a role. And she couldn’t say a word, because hers was good.

It didn’t matter what she truly wanted, or what her opinions about it were, because their mind was made up.

Why change something that is not broken? Why get mad over a good thing? What was better, being a bitch or a saint ?

Jane thinks that being the villain of the story would be easier, liberating. Heroes are just too unreal to exist, but pushing the narrative meant forgetting her own flaws, thoughts, problems.

But who cared?

All they ever wanted was a devoted woman.

(…)

Jane curbed her tongue and accepted her place as the dutiful wife.

(…)

"Can you stop being such a stuck-up child and act mature for a fucking moment?" The third queen asks, becoming irritable, "I just fucking asked you to do one thing. One fucking thing. You are not a toddler, stop throwing a fit!"

It turns out, living up to five hundred years of expectations become harder the angrier you get. The worse the feeling of burning grows, the worse it hurts inside. Jane refuses to let it slide, to let it show, but Anne is not making it any easier.

"Go off, Janey," the green queen laughs, "or chill out, it's not that deep."

"Except, it is." She demands. "I asked you to please do one thing, and it's not the first time. I ask you, you do it for a week, and then forget about it. Are you taking me for an idiot?"

"Honestly? No," she replies easily, "I just don't care enough."

They stay watching each other for a moment.

It brings back memories, but their roles are reversed. In another timeline Jane would be childish, not caring enough, or maybe caring so, so much, about the locket and chain around her neck. Anne would watch her with such a fury in her eyes, and the blonde would internally laugh.

She regrets it. Jane hadn’t seen it coming. The dreadful ending.

“But I know you do; I will try to change it.” Anne answers, her voice just above a whisper.

A soft: “Thank you” it’s all Jane can say.

“You’re welcome, darling .” A playful smirk passes through her lips.

“Bloody idiot.”

“I know.”

Boleyn gives her a sincere smile.

Maybe sometimes yelling is useful.

(…)

It is also true that she was not as sharp or witty as Anne Boleyn.

(…)

It doesn’t last long. Before she knows it, the show must keep going.

Jane smiles, sings her song, sings about Edward. Edward, her Edward. Her brother too, was named Edward. He died. Her brother too, was Thomas. Thomas who did so much wrong. Thomas who apparently loved Parr. Thomas who got sentenced to death.

Thomas and Edward. Thomas. Edward.

She doesn’t realize how much panic creeps in until she is alone in her room crying. An unexpected feeling of grief for the family she once had, as much grief as hate and resentment towards them. Horrible atrocious acts made just for the sake of it.

The Internet says that her son, her little baby, luckily died young.

They talk about luck, something good. And even as much as she wants to believe that her kid won’t ever be a threat, she knows his father. Henry was atrocious, ruthless. Growing under his influence was probably not the ideal childhood. If only she hadn’t died.

Her skin aches, and she has to ground herself controlling her breathing.

Was it possible that every man in her old life was terrible?

(…)

She never seemed to cause drama or do anything without her husband’s permission, and she managed to maintain her carefully crafted image of being virtuous, loyal and obedient.

(…)

“Jane, can we talk?” Aragon questions, knocking on the door.

The blonde nods, slowly looking up.

“What’s going on?” The divorcee asks, rather bluntly. “You stopped coming out of your room, and when you do, it’s just to fight. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m good. Great even.” She smiles.

“Do you think I’m a fool?”

Bloody hell.

Jane doesn’t want to hold this conversation, knowing that she has all the cards to lose it. But at the same time, she wishes to reach out, to explain what is going on. To say that she doesn’t know how to be angry, how to defy someone, how to speak up. All she knows is shouting, crying and hiding her real emotions.

She must conceal what she feels, to not let it show. The less she thinks, the less she feels, the less danger it represents. Jane can’t be the next one. If what happened to Aragon was an awful experience, where she couldn’t see her daughter or talk to her for the last years of her entire life, and Anne’s death was way worse, what is left for her? Torture worse than death.

“ Bonita, breathe with me.” Aragon commands, sitting a hand on Jane’s shoulder in an attempt to ground her. “Jane, breath in. Hold. Breath out.”

“Go away, Catherine, please . ” The queen begs.

“No. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want you here, please .”

“I just want to help.” Catherine says, trying to get closer.

“Why don’t you try and help yourself first? I know I’m dumb, but even I can notice what you do, Catherine.” Her voice becomes steady. “Why are you so obsessed with fixing people? Is this because you couldn’t fix Mary from the monster she became?”

The venom in her words acts quickly, Catherine’s face changing in a few moments. First a pained expression, then developing hurt. She stands up from the bed, and Jane rage rises.

“Why can’t you just keep for yourself, Aragon?” She expels the name. “Is that because you don’t know us? Is this a trick? I know you loved him, is this your way to check us as competition? Or just because you want to see which one of us can take the blame for what happened with baby Mary?”

Catherine stays silent. Humble and loyal after all.

“I told you I wanted you gone.” Jane finishes.

“And I told you, you need help. You should seek it before it becomes too late.”

(…)

Jane’s son Edward was at best a useless boy-king, and at worst a divisive religious extremist who disinherited his sisters.

(…)

Maybe no other queen truly understands her.

Or maybe she doesn’t understand the others.

How Anne talks about her beheading makes it sound like a celebration, a great day everyone was looking forward. She talks about how people cheered, even if it sounds mostly like an old tale made by people who hated her. Jane doesn’t try to tell the truth. She hides it in her silence, just like she hid from Henry.

She should. She should make it better for Anne, but a part of her can’t do so. Can’t bring herself to tell the truth. To confront the other queen. She can’t break the need to be perfect, the need to be good, and innocent.

Talking to Boleyn would be an admission of guilt she is not ready to commit.

(…)

Jane Seymour fulfilled her most important duty as queen, but she was never crowned and died just twelve days after the long and arduous birth.

(…)

Catherine is distant, which shouldn’t surprise her.

Asking for help sounds like a trap. She can’t trust anyone. Even if she knows how much it would change things, even if she doesn’t feel like the queens would hate her or judge her, deep inside something tells her they will. And she can’t allow that.

She can’t break the idea of being perfect after fighting so much for it in the past.

(…)

The fact that she had died producing Henry’s only surviving male heir gave her a mythic near-martyr status in his eyes, and he would do creepy things like having her appear in a family portrait eight years after her death (and not even as a zombie or vampire, much to my dismay).

(…)

“Why are you here?” Her therapist asks.

Wasn’t being a reincarnated Tudor queen who died after giving birth to the next king of England enough reason to be?

“I think I’m having problems with being impulsive, and out of control, and managing my emotions.”

“Which emotions would this be?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s good that you are looking for help, Jane.” The woman says.

She takes the files and starts asking more questions, Jane finds herself being more honest than in a long time.

After the session she feels happier, lighter.

(…)

Let’s get down to business and look at just why Jane was in fact not a cute little wifey BUT a calculating master manipulator.

(…)

It doesn’t last long, and that is what hurts the most.

Feeling good for a moment just to then descend into the pain of unbelievable sadness that invades her. Not knowing how to handle it, making her go slowly mad.

It makes her think of her death.

Everything was good, happy, easy. But then it started going bad, failing. Her own body, organs shutting down, fever, agony. A pain in her chest that barely leaves her breathing. Death coming to her. And sometimes she feels it again.

Short, confused breath. A weight so heavy on her chest. Her thoughts all over the place. Death creeping on her. Her psychologist calls it a panic attack, stress coming to her. And she doesn’t know how to react to the idea that it’s just her brain. Drowning in thoughts, so deep that she can’t see the surface.

(…)

That’s two Queens brought back into the folds of power, a feat Jane achieved in just 6 months, thanks to her skill at manipulating Henry without him even realizing.

(…)

Anna doesn’t come to her, just the contrary. Jane tries to help.

Watching the queen crumbling down, makes her feel smaller. Just the contrary to her stage presence. This Anna is not partying, no joking. She is broken. Not a unidimensional character that they pull each night. Cleves has kept a mask for so long, that is just now breaking.

Jane can’t help but wonder if they all do. But it’s different. Jane had always been allowed to be sad, to cry, to be sensible and weak, while Anna never had that privilege. Each role assigned to them had their good and bad parts.

“We might not be great. I know I’m not. But we are here for you. We are all in this.”

“Do you really mean it?” The fourth queen asks.

She doesn’t doubt it. It’s just the way it worked, everyone had their places, what they tried to fulfil. It was harder on some of them. To keep or to destroy what they were. Create a new self being idyllic, impossible.

“Of course, I do.” Jane smiles.

(…)

Jane was not beautiful. She was not outspoken, or alluring, or exotic.

(…)

An article said he was sick for months. That he died slowly, painfully.

Her son had died when still young. And she never held his hand. She wonders if he was scared. If he thought what death might have felt like. Sometimes it keeps her up at night, her sick son who had to lay in a bed. Who she can’t help.

She wasn’t scared of death, as she never quite understood, fever coming to her, letting her slowly go. Making her confused, as she didn’t understand if she died until she came back.

What was better? To go without knowing or to stay knowing that the ultimate end is near?

Jane used to be catholic, used to devote herself to religion. But since she came back it all feels like a lie, an elaborated truth that kept her from making errors. Still, for his supposed last words, she hopes God had mercy on him.

(…)

Nobody wants an unfun queen.

(…)

“Jane, may I sit with you?”

The older nods, making space on the sofa. Katherine practically jumps to the spot but doesn’t relax until Jane opens her arms for the girl to get into the embrace. They stay like that for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s company.

They had managed to somehow have a good relationship. Maybe because Jane never feels as if Katherine judges. Maybe because Katherine never met her in life. Maybe because they know the least about their past. It somehow brings them closer.

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” The third queen wonders.

She keeps in mind Aragon’s words, if Katherine feels safe enough, she will open up. Slowly the changes had been more noticeable, especially after starting therapy.

Maybe it’s the need to be a mother, maybe it’s just the way Katherine can charm anyone, with shy smiles and childish glee.

“I feel bad.” Katherine admits. “I… I have tried to ignore things and I just feel guilty about it.”

Jane nods, knowing what the feeling is about. Remorse is an even more common feeling in the queens’ household than it is probably in others.

Maybe they are both broken.

“What about?” She wonders.

Maybe it’s just meant to be.

“They beheaded the woman who helped me.” Katherine admits. “They beheaded her too.”

Maybe it’s because they both feel the blood on their hands.

“But it wasn’t your fault. You can’t make yourself responsible for others’ actions.” Jane confirms.

“I never cried. Since I came back, I never cried for her. I just pushed it to the back of my mind, acted as if it did not happen.” Her eyes water. “She died for me. And I am back, and she is not. I still don’t try to bring those memories back.”

“Some emotions need time.” The older one tries to explain. “Grief it’s not lineal, there’s denial, there’s guilt.”

“She didn’t deserve it.”

“You didn’t either. But you can honour her. We have a second chance, something impossible.”

“What are you using your second chance for?” Katherine wonders.

Jane doesn’t have an answer.

(…)

Jane Seymour: (shrug) enh.

(…)

Sometimes talking with fans is easier. They comment about the play with blissful glee, about the shiny costumes and loud music. Some go as far as making copies of her costume, to draw her, to write letters. They still don’t know her fully and they mostly don’t care to find out.

Jane can’t help but wonder if Edward ever felt love like that, blind, from someone who doesn’t know who you are. She can’t help but wonder what her son knew of her, because he never met her. She didn’t get to really meet him either, but she has Anna, who sometimes would drop a funny story of a young king, Katherine who remembers a little boy, and Catherine who talks about how smart he was.

She hopes that he had someone to tell him her story.

(…)

In her entire 18 months as queen, Jane Seymour failed to say one single thing that anybody thought was worth preserving for the future.

(…)

“Catherine, can we talk?” Jane asks.

The first queen nods sternly, sitting in front of her. Even though their relationship had been less tense since she started therapy a while ago, things were still not quite resolved within them.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Catherine starts. “I shouldn’t have pushed, specifically not when I told you not to push Katherine.”

“No, it’s alright.” The blonde smiles. “Katherine shouldn’t be pressured, that’s true. But we are different. I didn’t understand what you were trying to do but now I do. And I’m sorry. I have been realizing things slowly and it’s just a matter of time until I will feel better again.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” The first queen asks.

“It’s the idea of being perfect. To fill in my own shoes. To comply, and obey and serve. You knew me before, and you know me now, but I just feel so much responsibility to be who people think I am. I talk about how I stayed, firm by his side, but in reality, I didn’t. I was scared. I am scared. And it’s such a weird feeling, because it drives me to do the exact opposite thing of what I try to do. My death was just something that happened, but I can’t help and think that I was lucky to have died. Who knows what could’ve been of me otherwise?”

“You don’t have to be perfect.”

“But I do.” Jane replies. “It’s just my place, and I’m a character. I just have to learn where and when I should be myself.”

“Are you sure? No one is expecting anything.”

“They are. And it’s okay. They want it, the love story, the tragic ending. I wish it was like that, but it was not. But I’m going to be fine, because I’m pretty tough. And it doesn’t come from screaming, being the loudest or the most anything. It comes from me, and I don’t have to prove it to anyone else.”

(…)

Or, god forbid, are you a fan of the insufferable Jane Fucking Seymour?

(…)

“I might miss some foods from the past, but I love this.” Anne said happily, devouring some chocolate lentils.

“Stop it! I want some too.” Her almost namesake replied, trying to take some.

“Anna, don’t worry about chocolate and help me pick a movie.” Parr insists. “I saw that this one was good, this account said that they used a new kind of animation to do it. Created a new program and all.”

Jane smiles, laughing lightly at Catherine who can’t keep facts for herself. Each time it becomes better, less superior talking and more nerdy, passionate about useless knowledge.

“Whatever you choose, please let it be short, I’m so tired tonight.” Aragon asks.

“That one is ninety minutes long.” Katherine offers.

The third queen sits, gossiping about the plot

(…)

So, don’t overlook Jane. Sure she’s quiet, but remember it’s the quiet ones you have to watch.

(…)

Second chances were overrated, that much could be said for Jane Seymour.

Sometimes, people don’t change, themselves or their minds. In her two lives, she dealt with it all. With trying and not, with fighting and keeping quiet, with being looked up to and with being irrationally disliked. Society, as a whole, would never be pleased. Setting standards too high, as much as those vary from time to time, from one century to the other, there was always going to be something wrong.

But it didn’t mean she had to just follow it.

Second chances were overrated, wasting hers into demonstrating things to anyone except herself. The general opinion might not change, but Jane does. She learns, grows. She cries, gets sick and has horrible days, she fights, speaks out, she loves, she smiles. It’s hard, to live a life she shouldn’t have, but it means that is her opportunity, not to be revolutionary, not to be a queen nor a mother.

Jane learns to be herself, to explore, to know her limits. And it never ends.

Second chances were overrated, but it doesn’t mean that Jane was going to try and make the best out of hers. Maybe it is boring, or naïve to not try to take an impossible opportunity, but she doesn’t need it. To be true to herself is more than just enough.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #six fanfic #jane seymour

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mimiplaysgames · 5 years

Text

A Powerful Enough Dream (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua (eventually) Rating: T Word Count: 9,275

Summary: Too many people need Aqua’s help, and if she’s going to do her job as a Keyblade Master, she’s going to have to set aside her personal needs to pull them through... Only to find that something is not entirely alright with her.

Read on AO3

A/N: Ahhhh, I've never meant to ignore this particular fic for so long. ^^;; In all honesty, aside from so many other things going on in my life (I went on hiatus and am due for another, I was dedicated to other projects and I just got accepted into another zine ;-; and there was my stupid, broken computer which is now replaced! :D), I really dreaded writing this one. When I announced that I was splitting this story in two fics, I knew I dug a grave for myself. There is no way to fix this chapter without rewriting the first one entirely, but I figured it was much more important to get started Aqua on her journey and I need this loose end tied as soon as possible. If you're new to this story, I'm sorry this chapter is so bad - I'm totally aware, I promise. I've tried my hardest to make this side-quest as sensible as possible.

****

Crazy

His heart beats hard, fast, irregular, and it's about to collapse.

He doesn't hear how ragged his breath is, running as desperately as he is, and he ignores how much his muscles are screaming for rest.

Then there's the headache. That's the one thing Terra is mindful of.

He trips.

The Realm of Darkness doesn't make it easy, not with how rough it shapes its terrain, like it tripped him on purpose. Cobblestones not fitting well together. Pits in the dirt. Rocks hidden in tall grass where he won't notice.

Flashes of light burst somewhere far behind. It's too foggy to see what's going on. Terra spits sweat out of his lips.

There are eyes - a pair wedged right next to a pebble, near enough to grab his fingers. Another in the hollow trunk of a tree. And one more in the distance, in the direction he was heading, and now he has to choose another way and pray he doesn't fall off a cliff.

Behind him, he hears bubbling, the same sickly sound that always announces the arrival of Heartless.

It simmers across his back and he grabs whatever landed on him and throws it as hard as he can and he summons Ends of the Earth -

But can't. He hasn't been able to, not since he left the beach.

Not since he saw a flash of light and Aqua was gone, sent home to her freedom like she deserves. Not since some tall men in dark, hooded cloaks appeared out of nowhere in the sandy shores. Organization members. They wanted to kidnap him.

Terra had to choose between waiting for his friends to come back in dangerous waters, or running away.

When he can turn back into Xehanort at any moment.

He chose to run.

And now he's surrounded without a Keyblade. He thinks about Xemnas, and even though he's tired, and even though his stomach hurts, he takes that brief memory of what it feels like to be numb, to be detached and disheartened, and waves his hands in a sweep against the earth and flies them upward.

A barrier shoots erect - but not just any protective shield, an offensive one. The type that electrifies the Heartless that ram into it, and sends them flying backwards. The kind only a Nobody can summon.

He conjures more - two by his side, another behind him - to force these damn things to back off, and he escapes when he's had enough -

Tripping again when the Realm tricks a hill to look like a straight path and oops, there he goes, falling in air, rolling against dry dirt and tumbling until he finally halts.

It's dark down here. The headache will split his scalp open.

"No," he grumbles, running fingers through his hair and he wants to rip the strands off. "I can't control-"

His limbs go rigid. "No," he says again. He wants to make sure Xehanort hears him loud and clear.

Terra cannot summon his armor anymore for that matter, since Xehanort has clouded both in darkness. They should be in arms' reach, waiting peacefully in his heart, ready to come at his will… but it's like his Keyblade can't see or hear him either.

He manages a small sob when he loses control of his arms - which are quite literally, moving on their own to grip at his legs.

The taste of loss is bitter, as prickly as the tree roots ripping out of the earth and tangling around him. It's like the Realm sees what he's going through, and wants to point and laugh. They squeeze, tightening so his bones can't reply, and he's left to allow them to drag him.

But light is warm and always there - because without it, there wouldn't be any shadows. It shines like a halo, making the roots writhe and wrinkle away, letting him go, letting him breathe. It eases his headache, which he knows won't last forever, but finally… relief.

"Mickey?"

Two large, yellow shoes - big enough to belong to a clown - step in front of him, a pair of comically round ears leering over him with a huge smile. Mickey is the physical embodiment of a hearth, of everything that makes children happy in the outside world, a complete mismatched reflection of the twisted underground of the Realm.

"Slipped, did ya?" he squeaked.

"Maybe," Terra scoffs, just able to move a finger to trace the dirt. It feels so real.

As real as Aqua's skin when he held her - he held her. That was real. And she escaped. Terra considers this a success, a wish fulfilled, to stay behind so she could taste food again.

… Terra didn't even get a chance to tell her about his feelings. He chickened out in the last minute.

She's smart. She'll free Ven, too. And Terra will drag Xehanort to drown in the darkness together.

If he can manage to keep control of his body that is.

Mickey's Keyblade now dons some new chinks and chips.

If they continue this way, neither of them will last much longer. Terra has already woken up a couple of times, right in the middle of a duel with Mickey, a silver Keyblade high in the air and ready to strike, only for Terra to realize what he's holding and drops it. It's flashes of moments that in reality may have lasted only minutes but seem much longer. If Xehanort keeps hacking away, Mickey's Keyblade will break.

And then Terra won't have anyone left to help him.

But it hurts, that headache.

"Chin up, Terra," Mickey says, surveying where they should head to next.

The fog dissipates and gives them two paths: one paved with a line of lanterns illuminating the way, the other a rocky uphill hike into a forest.

"I… need to rest," Terra breathes, wanting to take back the words. If he rests, he'll lose control again.

"Aww, Terra, don't worry."

"I'll hurt you again." He chokes on a whimper, the headache roaring this time. "I don't know how Aqua survived years of this…"

Hands take hold of his shoulders, and this small mouse, barely as tall as his knees, takes Terra's entire weight onto his shoulders to sit him up. "Remember, I got ya."

"What are we going to do? I can't summon my Keyblade anymore and I just don't-"

Terra doesn't know what to say. I just don't know if I can keep waiting for anyone to come back?

"Well," Mickey muses, "we'll have to keep moving."

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

"I don't know how you do it, either."

"I don't have Xehanort weighing me down, and I think that makes you pretty strong. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"This place doesn't make you sad?"

"If I think about it…" A frown on Mickey's face is ill-fitting. "But we don't have time for that."

Funny, since the Realm will be sure to give them all the time it has to offer. The Realm will be sure to give them reasons to stay.

Maybe it's darkness creeping in, or maybe Terra had enough of reality to taste - it's sour.

"I don't see how anyone is going to find us," he says.

Mickey is silent for a moment.

"I had an old friend," he starts, "who used to have a motto he lived his life by."

He holds a fist up, and releases each of his four fingers with every rule: "'First, think. Second, dream. Third, believe. And finally, dare.' To honor him, I have to believe that every step we take will get us closer to freedom."

As if to prove a point, he faces Terra, and finishes with, "I think that's what helped Aqua last this long down here."

Condensed simply, those all sound like tenants of a Keyblade wielder.

"Was your friend a gentle man?" Terra asks.

Mickey smiles with a shrug to his shoulder. "Ohoho, he also said something to the effect of, 'You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.'"

"... It makes you stronger." How often has his own Master said the same thing? The Realm will kick him when he's already down, and he's supposed to stand on his own two feet and carry on like it doesn't hurt.

"Something like that." Mickey points to the rocky uphill hike. "My heart tells me this will be the safer way to go. C'mon Terra. How's about we keep going? Our friends think about us all the time, and they will light our way."

Terra grunts like his legs hate him, and he rolls his neck. It helps soothe the headache.

"Okay."

It starts with the suggestion by a simple-minded mouse, and Terra gets on his feet, fighting off dizziness, to face more odd nights.

****

The clock still hasn't struck ten and if the way her legs are shaking are any indication of how… is annoyed is the right word? Anxious?

Impatient. Aqua keeps crossing her legs and checks the time, and for a second she thinks she's back in the Realm of Darkness when she swears the minute hand went backwards.

The lights in the lobby are dim, the carpet as red as a deep wound. The chair she's lounging in is comfortable at least, but it nags at her back and she's desperate to move. She's still in the hotel, her heart torn by her duty to the people she swore to protect, nowhere near Ventus, nowhere near Terra, nowhere near anywhere she truthfully wants to be. If it continues to tear in opposite directions, will her heart break in two?

Rydia is also slouched in a lounge chair of her own, and has a radio playing, the static clearing to the lullaby of an accordion and violin. Their story is a long trek through a city filled with the lights of a harp, guided by the sad, gentle canals of a tuba. The violin abandons the accordion, and the tuba reassures the accordion, and it's lonely until they all reunite powerfully at the end of a long night.

Rydia is dressed stunning as always, her empire sleeves in gold trimming piling on top of the floor as she braids and unbraids her long green hair, a gentle smile on her face as she eases into her chair, losing herself to the song.

Everyone around Aqua is either doing two things: hustling to wherever they need to be - the infirmary, the battlefield, to their families - or, they linger, living out the seconds until Kefka comes.

Until Kefka comes: that is what is on everyone's mind, and Aqua can't bear to pass more than a second of thought to it.

But she'll stand corrected when the clock finally hits ten, and after ten strikes from the clock tower, here come the sirens.

They wail at first, getting louder which every passing vibration until she can't hear anything else, and she feels Rydia getting stiff right next to her. The sirens keep blaring.

They quiet, only to come back around and Aqua realizes the town is desperate because there won't be a place that could possibly escape the sound. They need her help. Terra and Ven need her help. Too many people need her help.

Focus, Aqua.

Silence, and her heart still drums in her ear.

"I swear that clock tower is haunted," Rydia says, slowly letting out breath as if letting it go all at once would make too much noise. The music sounds softer, as if the sirens had intimidated it, and Rydia leans over to bring her ears closer. "It always knows when to interrupt the best parts."

When Aqua stares at her with uneasy eyes, Rydia continues, "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Aqua never wants to hear them again.

The bustling energy in the hotel took pause during the sirens, and is now at full speed again - maybe even faster, knowing the minutes are ticking. Kefka arrives at eleven. One hour.

Cid barges through, keeping the double doors to the lobby open with a lit cigarette pursed in his lips, and a scowl worse than his usual attitude. "Incomin'."

In comes a tall, blond man with ridiculously spiky hair, and a giant blade strapped to his back (giant is an understatement), dragging carts of wooden boxes, throwing them open to reveal potions - as much as a store inventory.

Aqua recognizes him faintly from the night she came through the Door to Light... and suddenly she feels that twist in her gut, a sweaty coldness that only comes with what she must be most familiar with at this point.

Darkness. This man has the trace of it… and Cid is helping him like no one is in danger and Rydia is welcoming him like he's a friend.

The man pauses his hyper-focus when he sees Aqua, the severe look on his face softening with… pity.

"You're Aqua, right?" he asks her.

"That's right." She hates the way he's looking at her. "And you're…?"

"Cloud." Here it comes. "I'm sorry about Terra."

She has to remind herself that people mean well (and once she frees Terra, everyone will stop trying to apologize to her).

"Thank you," she says and she's relieved she doesn't sound ungrateful.

Cloud looks away at first, minorly distracted by Cid's grumbling about how they only have one ram left for the fight. Then he stands up, approaching Aqua.

"I was really torn up when I heard," Cloud says, uneasy like it's weird for him to be so open-hearted, "but I respect his decision. He has a good head on his shoulders."

Then he extends his hand to her. "Welcome to the team, Aqua."

Cloud has a gentle half-smile on his face, and darkness extends its hand, expecting her to shake it.

She's expected to be polite and she tries - she really wants to try - but her hand limps in his firm shake. Cloud gets the message, dropping his own and turning over his shoulder. "I'll be at the site," he tells Cid. "Hurry it up."

Cid groans, and saying out of ear shot, "Kid swears he's a hot shot."

Aqua rolls her lips inward.

"You alright?" Rydia asks, leaning forward.

"He has darkness." It's impolite to say, but Aqua has little patience to play with the dark.

Rydia cocks an eyebrow, her gray eyes searching for a proper explanation. "Your point? We all harbor darkness within ourselves."

"That is true, but… it's not normal to be able to sense it."

Rydia sits back, nodding to what she's understanding. "I suppose Cloud has been through so much, considering… what I don't understand is why it has to be such a black and white issue."

"What do you mean?"

"Where I come from, darkness isn't considered to be evil, at least among mages. We have white and black magic, but it has more to do with how you wield them. Darkness alone says nothing of your character."

Then Rydia smiles, to prove her point. "I trust Cloud with my life."

Aqua supposes she's being unfair - after all, her reflection has proven to her countless times that there are cracks within her very own heart, and it's unrealistic to believe they have all been sealed and darkness-proof.

There's been a lot of nights when Aqua had wondered if she should end it, pierce her chest with her Master's Keyblade and let the ocean take her. What darker sadness could there be besides that?

And then there's Terra… he has darkness, and maybe it's strong but it's always outshined by his spirit. He will always be a good person.

"Cloud, the sad hero," Cid gruffs, pulling potions out onto tables so everyone who passes by can easily pack them. "Basque in his greatness when he feels sorry for you."

Rydia takes a sleeve her mouth to cover her chuckles. "Where is this coming from?"

"He's more depressin' than an opera." He takes a puff of smoke. "But eh, I can respect 'im. He gets shit done."

Cid glances over to the hallway, suddenly switching gears and gives the two girls a fair warning: "Look sharp."

It's for Garnet's arrival, who is followed closely by Lulu, the organizer of the orphanage... So she hasn't followed the children to safety after all.

Garnet walks like she's on air, the most feminine Aqua has ever seen, her head held high like she's not as small as she really is, her hair and her bubble sleeves floating like there's a breeze that only graces her presence. Her heart is determined and open, embracing what's to come.

Lulu has her arms crossed, her face contorted in annoyance and a touch of impeccable, heavy makeup, her fur and leather-trimmed gown trailing long behind her. She walks with responsibility, but her heart doesn't want to accept what's going on around her.

"You're going to find me hard to submit, Your Highness," Lulu says, her voice as serious as her disposition.

Garnet whips around. "What you propose is preposterous."

"Your point?" Lulu scoffs. "I didn't stay behind to let you do what you please. I'm speaking for what is best for everyone else."

Garnet huffs. As if to end the conversation, she pretends to organize through potions even though they are all the same color, handing over some to Lulu, taking more for the battle ahead.

Lulu apprehensively accepts, and proposes something: "When the children want to win an argument, they play a game called Snap. Winner gets the final word."

"Is that so?"

"It's a game of magical prowess. Hold a coin flat in between both palms, and you fight to keep it."

Garnet straightens up, understanding exactly the kind of filibustering Lulu is trying to do, and extends her hand, gesturing to be given something. "Let's have it, then."

Out of Lulu's bra comes a large silver coin. She holds the coin together with Garnet's palm, like they are slapping it in place. Visually, nothing seems to be happening as their faces lose themselves to concentration, but Aqua recognizes the energy in the air: there is magic bustling in between their fingertips, and whoever exercises more willpower gets to keep the coin.

"Now," Lulu says and they pull hands apart like they're avoiding harm.

It takes a moment to process, and Garnet flips her fingers to reveal that the coin has stayed with her. Whether it's beginner's luck or she's that more skillful, Aqua doesn't know enough to figure.

"I've won," Garnet announces.

"Except you've lost," Lulu says with dejection, with concern, with stern ambition. She hovers over to Rydia's side.

Rydia has cast her eyes downward, avoiding the game altogether, a profound look of guilt betraying her need to keep a straight face.

Three women standing on one side of the room with Garnet opposing them.

It's enough for Cid, who's sitting on his own away from the drama, to throw his hands in the air, as if saying this isn't worth the trouble. "Women."

"What is going on?" Aqua asks.

Her interruption makes Garnet jump, but the princess ignores the question.

So Lulu answers, her tone as exasperated as her eye roll. "Garnet thinks she can get away with sacrificing herself."

"You haven't left me with much choice," Garnet says, sending a glance over to Rydia. "I have been blessed with more time to be there for those in need of me. And yet, I have to do what is best for my people, and I cannot sit idly by to watch you play the sacrifice on my behalf."

Aqua stands up. "I don't understand what you're implying." Except she does understand. She just refuses that there's any justification to it.

Garnet breathes, ignoring Lulu's scoff. "Kefka demands female mages… Turn them into Heartless or else it will continue to haunt us every single night, and I cannot have this when we are in the middle of evacuations. I must ensure the safety of my peers."

Garnet then holds a hand to her heart. "Speak of nothing to Noctis. He'd never leave me out of his sight if he knew."

Hands gripped into themselves, shaking her head, Aqua groans and doesn't know what to say. "Riku never…" Said anything to me.

Just to stay behind and protect the hotel, out of real harm's way without giving her a choice.

So Aqua sets her sights. "Kefka is supposed to come every other night, right?"

"That is correct."

"So you'll buy one night with your life?"

"...Yes. We are the last ones." She gestures to herself, Lulu, and Rydia.

The entire room is quiet, weighed down by the severity of what was said.

They are the last ones, and does it matter really which order they get taken out, one by one?

It's not fair. It's ridiculous, and Aqua, Keyblade Master, is not going to tolerate it.

"Your Highness," she says, "I don't mean to show disrespect, but I think you should listen more to your peers."

Rydia leans forward, like she's looking for a speck of hope. Lulu thanks some force out there that someone around here is speaking reason.

"What would have me do, Master Aqua?" Garnet asks gently. "Shall I be content in my path to survival while those who've paved it for me waste away?"

Aqua swallows hard. The job of a Keybearer will sometimes have easy missions, and sometimes impossible ones, but they are all equal in the importance of saving lives. This decision is a no-brainer.

Even if they buy just one more night of peace, Terra is rotting and Aqua has to get going. Ventus is waiting and she promised…

"If Kefka wants a female mage, I'll give it one," she says, starting to head to the exit.

Garnet drops her jaw. "Are you mad? In your condition?"

"I don't have a condition." Aqua stops at the ornately carved wooden doors, and turns to face everyone in the room. "Cid, can you take my place in protecting the hotel?"

It's not just Aqua and the other mages squaring themselves against Garnet's judgment - Cid proudly dusts off his shoulders, nodding. "Better than facing that crazy clown."

Crazy clown doesn't seem to cut it as an appropriate nickname for the terror everyone around Aqua is feeling.

Aqua glances over to Rydia, who is still healing from a wound. "You need to always be by her side. Rydia, are you okay with this?"

Rydia has fire in her eyes, grabbing her longstaff and using it to keep herself standing. "I don't need to move much to destroy Heartless. I'm strong, and I'll stay."

"You're either really naive, or really powerful," Lulu says to Aqua. "I'll take my chances. I'll follow." She picks her potions like she's heard good news, taking her place across the room.

Garnet stands silent, defeated, with an expression that makes Aqua feel horrible, as though the Keyblade Master is really asking the princess to commit to something that is extraordinarily difficult and painful.

This morning, she had such a bright light within her that her healing touch shone white. Now it's dim, her eyes an empty black.

"It's my job to protect you," Aqua says, attempting to comfort her.

And Garnet only stares, like she doesn't believe it. Like she's faced this too many times, and knows from experience that they will all lose.

****

By the way she breaknecks towards the third district, Aqua can feel the clock ticking, even though the tower is quiet.

She takes long strides, stepping on the occasional puddle, leaving a poor Garnet to jog with her short legs in order to keep up. Traverse Town is decorated in lights, but it's otherwise a vacation town for ghosts. No one to dream about fancy jewelry, to admire the latest fashion, to salivate at the aroma of tonight's dinner.

The third district would have been a sight if it wasn't already halfway-destroyed - debris piling on colorful electrical wiring, lanterns that have been bent in half, a water fountain that has been blown open, and apartment homes with all the lights off, wind blowing through curtains. No one lives here anymore.

In the place of a bustling modern district are a bunch of wooden crates, tossed around between people to gather potions and weapons. ...It's a lot of fighters for one Heartless. Aqua would make the fourth Keyblade wielder up against this thing.

A part of her has this sudden apprehension to take another step forward - these people follow her now, swayed by her confidence that all of their worries will end tonight.

What if she has given them false hope?

Could she cope with it?

It's cold. Someone is watching her.

Aqua recognizes this feeling, since she's been faced with it for the better part of twelve years. There's already Heartless here, and she looks every which way to see if she could spot them hiding among the shadows.

Whatever is there is already studying the people gathering here, honing on the way Garnet and Lulu stride towards the middle of the square, pleased by how frantic people are rushing to finish preparations.

She whips around to find the clock tower in the distance, a great vantage point for anyone to stalk from. It's twenty past ten, but…

It's very cold.

Kefka is already here. It's just waiting for the time to start.

It's a sick situation, Kefka twirling these terrorized people in its fingers.

Aqua's expecting to find a certain pair of yellow eyes that would normally come from feral demons, but a different pair perks up when he sees her arriving to the third district.

And they belong to none other than Lea. She is surprised that he even cares that much.

Or maybe he's just really dramatic, but something about the twitch of his lips tells her that he isn't exactly pleased with her presence there.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he says with a smirk, feigning surprise and she doesn't know why he tries so hard to plant certain impressions on other people.

Aqua has no other answer for him except the obvious: "I have to help."

The facade in his eyes flicker out like a lighter turning off. He places his hands on his waist, letting himself be more honest, yet still keeping a hot air of distance between them. "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to fight something this malicious?"

The nerve of him. "I've faced more nightmares than anyone has ever slept with. I can take care of myself."

"Even after what Terra went through to get you back? Do you think that's fair to him?"

Aqua stammers. It isn't fair to drag Terra into this… "I don't need your permission to fight."

She leaves him with his mouth wide-open, searching for words and failing to find them.

Which only leaves her hearing the words, "She's just as dense as him!" fading behind her. It makes her smirk. Terra hasn't changed - when he has his mind set, he can become the worst kind of stubborn, as immovable as a boulder.

On her way to the middle of the square, past some men mapping out the upper levels where long-range fighters should situate, Aqua finds two particular individuals in one of the highest balconies who take way too much interest in watching her.

A well-dressed man, impeccably so, his silk sleeves a clean white like he's never been to battle, bracelets like he appreciates the finer things in life, and an exquisite embroidered vest like he can afford it, and a rifle sitting casually on his shoulder. He's not the one who initially took an interest in her - he only does so when his partner whispers to him about her arrival.

Said partner is a dark-skinned woman, with long, stark white hair that reaches her thighs, and jackrabbit ears stretching high into the sky out of her helmet. It only makes her look taller, taller than the well-dressed man, taller than Terra. Something about this woman makes Aqua wonder if she's seen her before, but this is no time to sit and think about it - that can wait until later. This rabbit-woman immediately takes notice of Aqua, tightening her grip on her bow.

Now there are two more pairs of eyes watching Aqua's back as she continues onward, out of ear-shot of whatever their opinions are.

Aqua comes across Cloud and Noctis, the latter with a clipboard filled with a checklist to make sure everything is in order. Occasionally he asks Cloud about the setup. Garnet and Lulu are already making laps around the square to check in on their sole wooden ram - Aqua gets the sense that Garnet is avoiding her, and Lulu is only following to make sure she doesn't do anything drastic.

Without really looking at Cloud in the eye, Aqua reaches over to hold Noctis' elbow firmly. "Make sure to keep an eye on Garnet," she says softly.

Noctis stammers before getting grim, and he's disappointed. He looks over his shoulder, where he sees Garnet cheerfully speak to a man like nothing is wrong and no foul plans are being made.

"Make that four eyes," Cloud says, smirking, and Aqua can't bring herself to smile back.

"Thanks for the warning," Noctis says. "She never learns."

… That's the weird thing about the people here. There's so much sadness, in Noctis' eyes, in Cloud's, in Garnet's… and they try smiling anyway like they're tricking themselves. Aqua doesn't remember if she's ever really smiled the entire time she's been in the Realm of Darkness.

Maybe once, when she saw apparitions of Terra and Ventus, but when they disappeared, she reasoned that she was being too hopeful. That it was never really truly a smile, because she can only give one around the people she loves. Not ghosts.

How grateful she is that a super-friendly face comes running up to her, bright (huge) yellow shoes splish-splashing through puddles to greet her, Donald and Goofy closeby.

"What are you doing here?" Sora asks, skidding to a stop.

Aqua really wishes people would stop questioning her drive. "Where is Riku?"

Sora takes a pause, his eyes darting for a moment towards the ground. "He's not here yet."

So it's not four Keybearers against Kefka, but three.

A faint thought nags at the back of her mind again. "He never told me about the female mages."

Sora's eyes widen, like he forgot that detail. But he lets it melt away into a small smile. "Riku hides stuff from me, too, sometimes."

"You've fought it before? Kefka?" Aqua searches his eyes for the truth, and she realizes that she actually sounds apprehensive.

She could fail this mission. It wouldn't be the first.

"Ah, phooey!" Donald scoffs, waving his arms like he's shooing a gnat. He's in a really bad mood, and how can he not when he's stuck here for duty's sake just like everyone else? "It's just a clown."

Sora brightens up, a triumphant fist in his palm. "We have a good team here."

His smile is ill-fitting because it's genuine. Nothing like the others who try to hide their fear, but he makes his out of immense faith. Sora's light is powerful, and… rare, Aqua thinks.

"We do," she says, remembering Ven's smile. Something about Sora reminds Aqua that there are reasons to look forward to happier times.

But everything pleasant is short-lived, and maybe that's a sad fact of life.

Someone screams. Points to the clock tower.

The minute hand speeds up, gaining velocity towards the top of the eleventh hour.

It takes three strikes of the bells for everyone to decide whether this is a joke or it's actually happening early.

Two more strikes for Noctis to yell, "Get aggressive! Stay alive!"

Three more for Garnet to whisper a spell that shines a light upon every single person in the area, and another two for Aqua to witness a faint crystal wrap and spin around her before fading away.

A protection spell, something completely unique and rare. Garnet's light is pure and blinding.

One more and it strikes eleven. Ten minutes to do the job or Kefka walks for another night.

The bubbling that signals the arrival of Heartless gargles, a dark mass growing and growing and growing to the size of a building, before an enormous clown steps down, shaking the ground underneath its mismatched shoes and socks.

It laughs, piercing like a speaker is about to blow her ears. Aqua clutches her heart, protecting it from ripping out of her chest - everyone else is gripping their heads like they're containing a massive migraine.

Kefka leans forward just to take a peek at Aqua, its stupid-looking collar a vomit-inducing mix of yellow and red, three swords carried on each shoulder, its white mask welded onto its dark face, bright yellow eyes in circles wide and without lids, a smile painted and screwed together -

And two huge gashes diagonally across its shield of a face, exposing the skin of a shadow underneath.

They all have been saying this thing is impenetrable. Sure.

Aqua summons her Master's Defender.

The clown's hands shiver, and its jaw widens just like a machine - it lets out a screech that sounds like gears out of control, getting louder and louder like Kefka is offended by her weapon.

And it cuts off.

A cleaver flies into its face, knocking it out of place. There's no way someone has that kind of strength but there is Noctis appearing out of nowhere in its tail, like the weapon is a destination. He strikes and Kefka barely blocks it with its forearm. Noctis throws his cleaver elsewhere, and wherever it appears he warps to. He sends a spear to strike Kefka's shoulder. Disappears. A sword, and then Noctis again, attempting to jab the clown in the eye.

Either way, Noctis stays up high, distracting the clown from doing anything else, like a fly determined to be annoying.

"Light!" Sora yells.

He beams, a force bursting out before racing back to his body, and suddenly he illuminates white and takes two Keyblades (Two? Aqua can't think about it right now), sending himself flying high, his weapons a passion to be reckoned with.

They are both heavy hitters, Noctis and Sora, black and white, one sneaky, the other forward, both brave.

Aqua has much to catch up to.

If it's aggressiveness they want, she has plenty of it. Her magic swirls around her as she charges forward, drawing her thoughts inward to her belly, letting her body twirl faster and faster to hurl the energy out in whips and circles.

Donald and Lulu tag team, throwing lightning strikes, icicles, fireballs on the top of the clown's head. It really, really hates having its face touched, and between those spells and Sora and Noctis zipping around like insects, there's already enough distractions.

Cloud thrusts at its metal calves with his giant sword, an impressive power from below to add to the frenzy.

The well-dressed man and the rabbit-woman take calculated shots from afar, aiming for the eyes and only when the clown has an opening.

Lea also takes that cue and throws firey pot shots from afar even though he's a Keyblade wielder (maybe it's smarter to keep a distance).

Goofy is a little all over the place, but his attack, inspired by a tornado, hits the spot when it does, joining Aqua in the mess she's created.

That's… ten fighters at least against one Heartless and it doesn't do much.

Kefka instead takes a moment to just… stand there and take the heat like it isn't bothered. It can't be this easy.

It's not. Like it suddenly woke up, Kefka stomps the ground, and with it comes a roundabout of explosions that start at the rooftops right behind it and circle the entire third district, tossing debris into the ground and causing several people to succumb to coughing fits.

Garnet immediately checks person to person, her light shining to heal. Noctis is already at her side, and she pretends not to notice.

Cloud starts yelling commands to get the ram ready. He's trying to maneuver it and several men crowd together with him to make it move faster. "Aim it toward our bombs. Let's send it back to darkness!"

As though Kefka heard him, it sprints directly towards Cloud and his group of fighters, as if ready to run them flat. They all scream.

Sora scrambles for the feet with his double-weaponry and misses - just because Kefka likes to hop and skip around.

The clown freezes before it takes the last step, one knee high in the ground like it's deciding to squish them, and a hand outstretched - and balls into a fist.

Aqua expects another explosion, and the fighters scream again in fear.

The fist makes a honk - like a toy car.

Kefka laughs and everyone hurts, hands gripping heads to ease the headache, Aqua holding her heart still.

Now Kefka ignores the men it has targeted.

It instead whips around and with that same balled fist, it throws a blast of dark energy at the group of fighters on the opposite side - throwing bodies, slamming doors, disheveling potions and ripping weapons from their holders.

Aqua stumbles from the quakes, and she sees freed hearts, softly glowing, floating gently as the bodies disappear - three of them at least, heading towards the sky.

"No…"

Three lives lost already. She's failing.

Lulu is on the ground, clutching a Moogle doll closely to her chest as Lea holds her by the shoulders. Garnet is frantically throwing light to various people. The only healer in the group.

Both female mages are okay for now.

Kefka loses interest in Cloud's group - who are still preparing the only ram - to strut across the square like no one is watching, right toward a vulnerable Lulu.

Not like she's the type to get intimidated. She raises a fist close to her face, a succession of explosions slapping Kefka in the face and keeping it at bay. She's shaking it like she's grabbing hold onto something stronger than her and the explosions keep going until she has no choice but to let go.

Here is where Lea follows her patterns, but he's not as skilled at the Keyblade. Blessed with deception, definitely, his movements just as unpredictable as Kefka's, throwing fireballs to distract the clown like tossing bees, only to look like he'll dodge in one direction but he really dodges another.

All to keep the clown's attention away from Lulu.

"Cloud!" Lea yells. "Now!"

Cloud and two men push the ram with all their mind, Cloud yelling about making sure to hit it from the southeast direction or they'll miss the planted bomb.

Then the ram loses a wheel. Dilapidates onto the ground.

Kefka takes notice. It always smiles at the expense of others.

A loud whistle, and the sound of water. A wave. A tsunami, really. The well-dressed man blew the whistle, summoning a massive wave to overflow the district and head straight for Kefka.

A new ram, built by exquisitely rare water magic.

This is no time to admire, but an opportunity and Aqua takes it, throwing a trail of ice onto the water as it passes by her and she skates it up, up, and up. When she gets to the crest, she spreads the ice all over the thrash of ripples, turning them into steely icicles, straight into Kefka's torso, right onto the building behind it.

She missed the planted bomb but she's got it pinned. Standing on an icy wave, face to face with the smiling beast. It struggles against the ice, and she readies her Keyblade.

"Time to take care of you," she says.

Kefka stops, leaning its head forward with whatever movement it has left to stare right into her eyes, and even though it's programmed to make only one expression, it almost looks like it's smiling wider.

Aqua lowers her Keyblade. Kefka isn't in front of her anymore but there are flashing pictures of a man. A funny-dressed man, a river, throwing poison into the water, so much that it turns dark. There are many people dead and there's a laugh, and a trial, and a battle, and powerful magical transformations.

The worst kind of people become the worst kind of Heartless.

There's a voice.

"Crazy is just a word they use to describe us."

Aqua has never known a Heartless to be able to talk. It can't talk, it's all in her head.

"What?"

"What are you doing?" Donald yells from the ground below.

Kefka has its large hands around the brim of her icy prison and breaks it piece by piece, thrashing against the building, and she slips and slides off the back of the wave, away from its inevitable freedom.

"Let's go!" Sora and Lea zoom past her, aiming for the clown before it sets loose, but Lea is smarter and backs out when he realizes it's too late, and Sora keeps going until he's exhausted.

One of his Keyblades fade away and he falls, Goofty barely catching him while skating on his shield.

"Keep it up, come on!" Noctis yells to a huge disheartened crowd, followed by Cloud for another barrage of assaults.

Not that Kefka is particularly interested. It hops and dances, skipping along the block and every step it takes strikes a random explosion in a random location, some hitting nothing, others being blocked by Lulu's powerful barriers. One hits near the balcony where the well-dressed man and the rabbit woman were standing, leaving rubble and two long-range fighters onto the ground where they have less of an advantage.

It's dusty and Donald's fireworks sprinkle the air in bright colors that combat the sound of bombs to the point that Aqua has a hard time following Kefka.

She tries but a lot of her attacks end up missing because of Kefka's erratic movements. She has to rely on widespread attacks, which drain her and she takes deep breaths in between to keep herself going.

Sometimes when Kefka runs, it attacks where it aims for, and sometimes it decides not to. It's hard to keep up.

Garnet slips by in all directions, her main concern is healing other people - with such sharp determination that she doesn't care whether Noctis is trying to protect her.

Just when Aqua thinks that Kefka doesn't see her, it attacks, and Garnet is flung straight into a wall, her protection crystal shattering.

"NO!" Noctis yells.

She slumps and doesn't bother to get up. She folds her arms around herself, waiting for the next hit, and Aqua summons another trail of ice to get there faster (faster, faster). She can't let this happen on her watch.

At this point, Aqua is shielding a stupefied princess with her body, and Kefka will attack the both of them, already ready with a dark mass bubbling in its palm.

But it gets hit from behind by a massive… missile? It's forceful enough to actually make the clown stumble.

The droning sound of machinery draws near, a flying gummi ship coming close. Kefka laughs and everyone hurts, Aqua gripping Garnet tighter to quiet the squirming princess.

Kefka telepathically takes all six swords and glides them in a sweep, up right through the middle of the ship, cutting in half, and Riku vaults out of the captain's seat, rolling off a roof and landing with a huge thud right next to Aqua and Garnet.

"Just in time," Riku says, summoning his new Keyblade. It's heavy and massive for his size.

Garnet snaps out of her stupor, heaving because she's just escaped death. Her eyes flash anger, and she takes her shortstaff and holds it in the air. A column of light bursts through the cobblestone with a loud punch, shooting right into the sky with such a trembling force that Kefka is knocked away from them.

"Thank you, Aqua," Garnet gently says as she picks herself up. She casts another spell, encasing herself and Riku in crystal.

Even though he has his Keyblade ready, Riku gladly waits for her to finish like they've done this routine one too many times and it's the best they can do to keep an eye on each other.

But Riku doesn't wait for a command though, chasing as soon as his crystal stabilizes itself. It's Cloud that sprints by his side and gestures an order without saying anything. In sync, they hit both of Kefka's ankles with their massive weapons, tripping it to its knees.

Garnet is also on her knees, exhausted. Whatever attack she conjured, it drained her of power and Aqua slumps her over her back - Garnet may be short but she's heavy.

Some force of wind takes Aqua off her feet, and Noctis suddenly has his arm around the both of them, and they glide over the ground until he reaches his next waypoint and drops them right behind Lulu, who is frustrated, worried, and determined to keep Garnet behind her.

The look on Noctis' face is awful as he takes a glance at the chaos: Kefka easily standing up after being tripped, Cloud and Riku desperately attacking its shins, the ram since abandoned. Goofy and Sora attacking its ankles from behind, Lea acting like bait, the well-dressed man shooting his gun upwards and missing, the rabbit-woman shooting an arrow and hitting the clown straight in the eye, but it all does so little.

Noctis is tired - not just exhausted, but the kind of tired Aqua dealt with for years.

Not the kind when he's had enough and he's angry - the kind when he's had enough and it's time to give up.

And Aqua's had enough.

She charges forward with a yell, jabbing her Keyblade straight into the air. She summons a giant snowflake, spinning and flashing until it stabs Kefka right at the hip.

In reaction, Kefka commands its swords again, and throws them all at her with a huge swipe, and Aqua doesn't dodge. She blocks, each slash of a sword against a properly placed Keyblade. Kefka is strong, and Kefka is big, and these swords are twice her size - but none of them matter. She's been training with two large men her whole life, and Kefka doesn't compare to her Master's skill or Terra's ferocity.

"You're pissing me off!" she cries when she blocks the sixth sword.

It takes a lot out of her but they are not called special techniques without a good reason.

Her Master's unique chains, first encircling her in a glow of golden light, then lurching until they wrap around Kefka. At the touch, these chains burn Heartless - they've certainly burned her when the Master first taught them how to use it.

Success. Kefka's arms are twisted tightly against its torso, and one of the links wraps under its thigh and actually keeps the stupid thing on its knees, a perfect target for everyone else.

The air chills, fog rolling in and Aqua at first considers a new threat but it's actually a dragon shaped out of mist, bobbing in the air before landing on the roof. It blows steam onto the clown, carefully skipping allies like they are precious, leaving a clown squealing like an unoiled engine.

"That's my girl," says a breathy Lulu, who barely has the energy to stand up.

It has to be Rydia's summon. Such powerful magic, Aqua has so much to learn still.

But a dragon twice the size of Kefka still doesn't make a dent (what the stars is its skin made of?), and it soon dissipates, leaving a dumbfounded Aqua - but no one else seems surprised. They keep throwing attacks, and Aqua is getting drowsy. She can't hold onto the chains much longer.

Ah, Kefka's floating swords, she forgot about them. They strike against her chains. They'll break. The damn thing.

At this point, Aqua has nothing left to give and so much to lose.

"Noctis," she says, whipping around and holding him by the shoulder. "Can you fly me up?"

He has dirt on his face and defeat in his eyes, but why not? He grabs her by the waist and throws his dagger up in the sky. She flies, then he grabs her again, throws his dagger even higher, making her soar to heights she couldn't possibly jump to on her own.

Aqua lets herself float, aiming for the sword nearest her. She grabs the grip of the hilt. Her feet stomp the guard and she stands straight.

She ignores Noctis when he freaks and screams, "Don't touch those!"

The sword spins to knock her off but she has a direction she wants to go and this thing will obey.

Down she goes, the point of the sword cutting straight through the air with one very particular destination: in between Kefka's shoulder and clavicle.

She rips into it, metal creaking and gears popping apart until she hits a thud that she's sure is the ground. Like a needle, Kefka is pinned in place by its very own. Aqua's chains flickjer but still - it can't move.

Kefka can't turn its face well to get a full look at the Keyblade Master triumphantly standing on its shoulder, right in between its lost limb.

"Get off of there!"

"Don't touch that!"

"Are you nuts?"

Voices by some she recognizes and some she doesn't, she ignores them. Instead, she watches Kefka's eyes, hard on her. The smile on its face doesn't waver even though she can tell - she can feel - rage building.

Several gears choke right under its chin, still turning but only barely. It's so weak under the frame - most of its inner skeleton is just metal beams and a cloud of purple smoke for organs with a black balloon for a head, all wrapped in a tacky costume. For a Heartless, it cannot create a hard shadow body like all the others, so it made itself a hard shell instead.

Like that of a man with a soft ego, too short-sighted to see his his arrest and execution coming, the ghost of a crazy clown who never wanted to be weak again and has only proven himself so.

"It's not as fun like this."

Aqua studies the two gashes on its mask, burnt at the tips and curving outwards.

"Terra did that to you, didn't he?" She scoffs. Her hands are melting into the swords hilt - this isn't fully solid either, and she can feel Garnet's soft puffs of white light healing her fingers the longer she's touching it. "I've faced worse than you in the Realm of Darkness."

She summons her Master's Defender. In darkness, only light slices the way. Even though the Keyblade is blunt and rounded, the point is to reach the heart - and every darkened heart has a weakness to exploit, the very same insecurity that haunted its former human.

Aqua has felt it all with every Heartless she's defeated in the Realm: the grieving, the enraged, the depressed, the vengeful, the feral, the crazy.

She yells, the light off her Keyblade aiming straight for the neck - she promised to be a Wayfinder, and for darkness that simply means releasing them.

Her Keyblade sparks against the gears and she has to look away, and this force burns like steam but she keeps at it. She's not letting this thing dance away tonight.

Kefka screeches.

There are yells about abandoning her with the clown.

Sora yells back that they have to help her.

Riku agrees.

Lea (apprehensively) follows along.

And Aqua keeps doing what she's doing.

Kefka's shoulder budges the moment the purple smoke of its insides release like gas, into her face and up her nostrils. It's putrid and it burns behind her eyes. She coughs but she stands strong until her Keyblade gives way and suddenly there's another collapse and she's falling backwards with the arm.

Something large topples on itself as there's a shimmer in the air.

Cries of amazement. Hollers. Yells to get back as far as possible. Aqua can't tell, it's cloudy in dark purple and she can't see in the gas.

Two pairs of hands grab her by the shoulders and drag her, and there's so much coughing - her throat burns and she hears Riku telling Sora to hurry up and he coughs as well.

It's clear now, the gas slowly fading away and whatever is left of the clown slowly - slowly - topples away like it still wants to resist. First the entire right arm where she chopped it off, then the left, until the knees buckle and its head rolls forward and it all turns black and gets blown open by sparkles of light.

A large heart floats upward, the crowds watching in silence like it's a stunning show they respect too much to interrupt. They don't shift until it floats higher, somewhere high in the sky where Kingdom Hearts will eventually accept its arrival.

The crowd doesn't believe it at first even though it's as clear as day. Claps start, then sobs, then whoops, then hugs and kisses, and a melting of relief rolled into a platter of overused desperation that still needs a place to be served.

The fight is over, and the night is as bright as the dawn.

There's so much happiness but all Aqua feels is shivering - it's so cold all of a sudden and her teeth chatter.

Riku is on his hands and knees, hacking.

Sora is on his side, his hand rubbing a massive headache and he moans.

Donald and Goofy run to his side, the former giving him a lecture instead of congratulating all the accomplishments of the night, and Goofy swings Sora over his shoulder to carry him away.

Lea throws Riku's arm around his shoulders. "Come on, buddy," he says, patting Riku's back.

Cloud gently carries Aqua in his arms, whispering, "I wasn't expecting that. It's impressive."

But it hurts to swallow and she doesn't say anything back. He lowers her onto a stretcher, in between Riku and Sora, who each have their own.

Riku rolls his head. "I can't quite believe it. Stupid clown."

Sora makes a trembling thumbs-up. "We did it." It plops down.

Gasps and sobs make way near them, and Garnet wanders into view, unable to keep up with her smiling tears, her gloved fingers intertwining with Aqua's.

"It is done. It is over," she says.

"What is happening to me?" Aqua asks hoarsely.

"Oh, you've been poisoned, dear," Garnet says with a sweet smile, leaning over her. "Not to worry. Terra has made sure we've plenty of elixirs."

"Terra…"

It's just like him to always be there.

Even during treasure hunts, where he left clues through the forest to make it easier for her to find him. Like stepping stones on an ocean so she could walk across, and she follows.

Garnet melts into tears again, the cheers silencing her quiet sobs and Lulu is asking for her, gathering everyone except the poor souls on stretchers into a huge embrace.

Celebrations are just as chaotic, nothing like the stars.

The stars. Aqua gasps when she sees them, and it sends her into such a coughing fit that Cloud has to put an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.

But there they are, dim due to the light pollution. They're her first since she's been freed, and she's forgotten how special she always thought of them - a light to pierce the darkness. Guides to give people directions. Reminders of hope. Wayfinders for all the dreams she's had.

They're beautiful.

#terraqua #aqua #terra #kh fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #noctis lucis caelum #garnet til alexandros #rydia of mist #lulu final fantasy #kefka palazzo #riku #sora #MERRY CHRISTMAS I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD #my fic

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queenofnohr · 6 years

Text

Cu Alter Interlude 2 - Kill Like a Beast, Fight Not Like an Asura

Got commissioned by @tainbocuailnge for this one! Narration has no tags, player options are in block quotes if they both lead to the same dialogue, results of player choice are in block quotes if there is variant dialogue (for whatever reason this Interlude draws A Lot of attention to how tumblr does not have the best setup for this sort of stuff). Anyway, enjoy!

—He said that to understand himself is pointless. Understanding leads to hate. Hatred invites error. One must not think they can understand a Berserker. Because they are a Berserker.

Cu Alter: Tch…….

> You okay?

Cu Alter: I’m fine. Right now, I must keep winning.

> Can you fight?

Cu Alter: ……A good question, Master. But unfortunately, asinine. I am always able to fight. After all, I’m alive, aren’t I.

Cu Alter: Even though this is the worst possible situation. Leyshifting is impossible, communications are down, and I’m the only Servant here. On top of that, all the enemies seem to of the normal Classes.

> And on top of that, we don’t even know what era we’re in

Cu Alter: Yeah. No matter where we go in this untouched forest, strong magical energy pierces the surrounding air. It might be on the level of the Age of Gods.

> Do you think it’s a Demon Pillar?

Cu Alter: Who knows? It doesn’t matter.

> I wonder what the cause is

Cu Alter: It could be a Demon Pillar, but it doesn’t matter.

Cu Alter: What’s important are the seven other warriors. If we can’t defeat them, it’s pointless. Whether we defeat one at a time or seven all at once— To correct the singularity, this is unavoidable. We’d better get started without delay if we want to get this done. Because, in the first place…… you’re about to reach your physical limits. Isn’t that right?

> But……

Cu Alter: If you’re going to tell me to value my life— Then you are not qualified to save humanity. Now that the Grand Order is complete, it seems you’re just a shadow of a Master, fine with anything.

> Are you okay?

Cu Alter: Do not worry about my wellbeing. Crush that necessity regarding Servants for the sake of existence.

Cu Alter: Your hesitation will lead to an easy annihilation. Do not compromise, do not deign to protect me, do not treat me as a person. ……It will only blunt the tip of my spear. With that, I’m done talking. Fight, fight, fight until the bitter end - do whatever it takes for you to return. Are you prepared?

> ……Yes > Let’s go!

Cu Alter: The first two Servants……!

> Watch out for Robin Hood!

Robin: My, my, what a cautious Master to yell something like “Watch out!” in regards to a second-rate Servant. Well, I don’t make a habit of torturing Masters to death, so you can breathe a sigh of relief at that, at least.

> Watch out for Semiramis!

Semiramis: Hou, what a discerning Master. But the Servant is a Berserker; it’s like having pearls thrown before swine. It’s alright, though. When I am victorious I will express my respect by giving you a pleasant death.

Cu Alter: Save it. From the start, you two had no chance of winning!

[battle]

Cu Alter: There!

[attacks Semiramis]

Semiramis: Hmph, so I was only able to get this far……. I’m not happy about it at all.

[she disappears]

Robin: Oh well, the end is the end. I’ve done my duty so I guess this is fine…….

[he disappears]

Cu Alter: ……tsk.

[Cu coughs up blood]

> Poison……!

Cu Alter: Tch…… So that’s it. Don’t worry; even if I don’t recover, I’ll be fine.

> You need medical attention!

Cu Alter: Don’t waste your time. It’s poison from the world’s oldest poisoner…… Semiramis. You can’t treat it by normal means.

Cu Alter: Now about the remaining five…… I’ll defeat them before the poison can spread.

[at the sea cliffs]

Cu Alter: It seems there isn’t anything to identify the age or signs of a singularity, huh…… That’s fine. More important is being able to find where the other Servants are. ……What’s with that look. You’re worried about the poison, aren’t you.

> I’m worried about that, but……

Cu Alter: Oh?

> You don’t seem to consider anything about yourself

Cu Alter: ……It’s always the same with you.

> I don’t understand you

Cu Alter: It’s fine if you don’t understand. A Servant is just a machine. You can give affection to a machine, but there’s no point to it.

Cu Alter: ……I’ll return to what I was talking about before. This singularity is strange. It’s like it’s both the Far East and South America. Furthermore, it seems like a place humans haven’t found. There’s a limit to how much we can search. What shall we do? Master, do you have a plan?

> Can’t we go somewhere by sea?

Cu Alter: ……Stop. Both of those are bad leads. We won’t be able to get anywhere on the sea or in a cave.

> What about a cave……?

Cu Alter: Well, we could. Would it be wise to search for a cave, if it’s only so you can rest……?

Cu Alter: For the time being, I’ll aim for a cave. But before that—

[Karna and Medb appear]

Cu Alter: I’m going to strangle these nuisances to death. Stand back, Master. Karna: ……No hard feelings - this is simply work. Medb: Look at that, Cu-chan is the enemy. What a shame! So, what will you do? Won’t you turn traitor? Cu Alter: Very funny. That functionality does not exist within me. Karna: That’s wrong. You are simply faithful. Even as an Alter, that is a constant. Medb: Either way, a Cu-chan who betrays is not Cu-chan. So, with how things are in this Holy Grail War, I’ll be happy if you kill me! Cu Alter: “This Holy Grail War”? Karna: There’s no point in talking to those who are about to die. Let’s go. Medb: Taking on a poisoned Cu-chan feels as shameful as locking him a Geis for life, but— Just kidding. Just like before, my heart is pounding! I’ll mercilessly corner you, then kill you! Cu Alter: That’s fine by me. I’ll grind you both into dust……! Karna: I see. Of course one with such a ferocious disposition is a Berserker. Is it because the scope of vision is narrowed that one becomes greedy for purpose? But you would do well to remember this, O Warrior of Ulster - that part of yourself is a burden to your Master.

[battle]

Every time I breathe, a dull pain hits me. My thoughts are hazy, indistinct. What I must do is unclear. So, I tear through the enemies before me. I can devote myself only to this. From the start, I’d been a warrior like that. That side of me has only grown as a Berserker. Karna: A true hero kills —with his eyes! Cu Alter: Tch……! Medb: Come, now! Chariot My Love! Cu Alter: Don’t underestimate me, Medb! Medb: He stopped it head on……! Cu Alter: I’ll return the favor, Karna. Take this……! Karna: ……! Medb: Karna! Karna: ……So this is as far as I go…….

[Karna disappears]

Cu Alter: You let your guard down, Medb. Medb: ! Damn i— Cu Alter: Gae Bolg—!

[screen blood splatter]

Medb: *cough* Cu Alter: It’s over, they’re both dead. Medb: Fu- Fufu…… It hurts……. It’s okay- Ending it here…… This time, I lose. But…… I wonder if you can win against the remaining three with your body like that? Cu Alter: Shut up. Medb: Fufu……. I’ll be waiting for…… next time…….

[Cu coughs up blood]

> Cu Chulainn! > Alter!

Cu Alter: ......Next…… Let’s move on…… to the next one…….

> Let’s rest for a bit

Cu Alter: ? ……Yeah, alright. You stay here. I’ll…… go settle things with the remaining three Servants.

> You can’t trust me?

Cu Alter: ……No, it’s not a matter of not being able to trust you, it’s about both of us not getting killed. ……. ……. ……Karna said my way of being is a burden to you……. Maybe this is the correct answer. Without regard for myself, no matter what must be done……. I will end this my way, by myself. Friends, partners, brothers-in-arms…... Properly speaking, I am to shoulder your burden, but it’s something too heavy for me to bear. It’s the same for you, too, Master. My way of being is burdensome for you to try and take on, just as you are burdensome to me. So, wait in the cave. I will go forth to settle this.

[in the forest]

> He said that and left me behind, but- > I can’t accept this……

???: Oh ho, what do we have here? You must be Chaldea’s Master.

> Anderson……!?

Anderson: Right you are. It is I, the singular person in this entire war to voluntarily drop out, the third-rate Servant, Anderson. If you know me, saying any more than that is superfluous. Now then, why are you here of all places? Is your Servant not participating in the Holy Grail War?

> Although you say it’s a Holy Grail War……

Anderson: The form this one takes is certainly different than the classic battle royale. We seven are the defensive players, tasked with protecting the grail to the bitter end. The single offensive player must charge through our defenses. Well, my presence has no bearing on the battlefield. Therefore, I’m spectating from over here. In the first place, no matter how many are defeated, one will remain in the end. The great hero of Greek Mythology, Heracles, as your enemy.

> Heracles……!

Anderson: Indeed. If a normal Servant is a gorilla in heat, he’s a starving dinosaur. Fighting him is a fool’s errand. So. Why are you here, Master of Chaldea?

> Actually……

Anderson: Hm. So you’re fine with being alone, is it? I wonder if I can pin down Cu Chulainn Alter. The original seemed to be a Celtic warrior who could be friends with both enemy and ally alike depending on his mood, but— That is why Cu Chulainn Alter rejects everything. Other people are weak, is the way his logic goes, if I am alone, I am strong, and that is good. To keep away from those that should be protected, being injured is acceptable. What a comical script! And on the side of who is being protected, what tragedy! With the way it is, it seems you too will be hurt, cowering.

> I see

Anderson: Oi, if you understand, go.

> So that’s the feeling……

Andersen: Were you convinced? If so, there’s only one thing to do.

Andersen: Hurry and go to him. Past this forest and to the left there is a cave. That is the battlefield.

> Thank you

Anderson: Your words of thanks are unnecessary. This isn’t a situation where I can charge you the price of a book. Hurry on, now. And fulfill your duty as a Master. If you defeat the remaining two Servants, this singularity will disappear.

[in the cave]

> I hear them……!

Cu Alter: I’ll kill you———!! Heracles: *roaring* Cu Alter: *pant* *pant* *pant* ……! ……. ……. Master, you…… Why are you here?

> I came to fight > For your sake

Cu Alter: ......Tch. Do what you want.

> Right back at you

Arturia Alter: —So the Master has appeared. But, you’re too late. No blade will reach me. This Berserker will be the victor. Heracles: *roar* Cu Alter: ……! Not yet. I can still……! My body is breaking down. My spirit is breaking down. The strongest hero in Greek mythology. A man who overcame the Twelve Labors and became immortal. Even though he should have been killed many times over, each time he revives, and destroys. My bones are cracked. My flesh is torn to pieces. And for what. To win, to continue to win, that is what I am here for. ……I have no need for a Master. They should be unnecessary.

Cu Alter: Tch……!

> Healing! > Strengthening!

Cu Alter: I’m grateful, but move away. ……It’s fine if you stay over there.

—Yes, it’s extremely annoying. My power, my spear, seems only to increase in power by having her here……! Arturia Alter: —Hou. So you’re trying to hit me with your spear without defeating Heracles. ……So be it. Then I shall draw my sword as well. —Come, Warrior of Ulster. I will engrave this holy sword into your body. Cu Alter: Unfortunate. Master, don’t just stand there. Win.

> Yes……!

Cu Alter: All curses unleashed, no limits.

[Cu starts glowing]

Cu Alter: —Your death comes. Curruid Coinchenn……!

[battle]

Cu Alter: Haughhhh!!

[dark screen blood splatter]

[Heracles disappears, Arturia Alter is disappearing]

Arturia Alter: —Splendid. Cu Alter: A Caster isn’t showing up, but…… It seems you were the last one. Arturia Alter: Correct. Cu Alter: Then why were you summoned in the first place? Arturia Alter: —I do not know. There is only one thing I understand. We did not fight amongst ourselves, but simply waited for your arrival. We were given orders to kill you, nothing more. As for intention— It seems there’s someone out there who despises Chaldea - despises you. Cu Alter: ……I see. So this was a test. Arturia Alter: Perhaps. ……Be careful, Master of Chaldea…….

[she disappears]

Cu Alter: It’s over. Da Vinci: Heeeey, Gudako! Oh, thank goodness. It seems that more than anything, you’re safe and sound. Audio communications broke down, and we couldn’t track your vitals……. But it seems like you’ve been stable since the beginning. Did anything happen out there?

> I’ll tell you when I get back

Da Vinci: Hoho, my interest is piqued.

> Well, something like that……

Da Vinci: I see, I see.

Da Vinci: Well, seems like you finished up over there. Prepare to return. Well then, I’ll be waiting. Cu Alter: ……Resentment, huh? Is there a surviving demon pillar somewhere out there with a grudge? To be hated for restoring the human order seems like a rough life. But, well— If you need me to kill an enemy, just yell. I’ll come any time. That is my role as a Berserker.

—Ah, it really is annoying. When I die it will be in a truly wretched manner - that is inescapable. But it seems, perhaps, that in my final moments……. There will be a single person to mourn me.

#long post #fgo #fgo translations #fate grand order #my translations

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weerd1 · 5 years

Text

Star Trek DS9 Rewatch Log, Stardate 1907.10: Missions Reviewed, “Destiny,” “Prophet Motive,” and “Visionary.”

Sisko’s “Destiny” is called into play when a Bajoran Vedek reinterprets an ancient prophecy to mean the Cardassian scientists about to come onto DS9 to construct a communication device to operate through the wormhole are going to instead destroy it. Sisko is initially dismissive, but as Kira (trying to balance her position as first officer and her faith in The Prophets) keeps pointing out, the signs seem to line up.

When the legitimate threat to the wormhole seems to fall into place, Sisko has to make a choice to behave as an officer or as a religious figure. Using Dax’s science after Kira tells him she believes he will do the right thing, the wormhole is saved and the experiment successful…fulfilling the prophecy as well if you interpret it just a little differently.

The tension builds here nicely, particularly for Kira as she balances her duty and her faith. It’s also nice to see Cardassians who are not portrayed as the monolithic military bad guys, but have a genuine interest in the science and working with Starfleet. Sisko’s discomfort with being “The Emissary” is something that will be visited to great effect again. Seeing guest stars Tracy Scoggins- 90s icon, and Wendy Robie (Nadine from “Twin Peaks”) is full Cardassian makeup is pretty cool, and they both flesh out their characters well, particularly Scoggins’ character who thinks there’s a romance between her and O’Brien because they keep bickering of engineering.

The Prophets are still with us in “Prophet Motive” as Grand Nagus Zek comes onto the station, ready to involve Quark and Rom in a re-write of the Rules of Acquisition. Quark is appalled however to find they are now very philanthropic, and the Nagus seems far more interested in helping people with charity than profit.

Rom jumps in heading a new benevolent aid organization, but Quark realizes everything changed for Zek after going into the wormhole and asking the Prophets to show him the future. Quark has his own discussion with the Prophets, mirroring a lot of what Sisko went through back in the pilot episode, and finally convincing them to restore Zek’s avarice. As Zek leaves to continue profiting on Ferenginar, Quark laments how much money they lost in this venture. Rom however has embezzled a tidy sum from Zek’s charities, making Quark proud of his brother.

I always enjoy the fine line between the Ferengi on DS9 being likable and horrible, and even when it’s not specifically the goal of the story, it’s one of the few places Trek asks you to try to examine how open minded the Federation is. These are cultural differences, but so different than just “let Worf wear his sash.”

The presentation of “Prophet space” here does echo the pilot, and it’s neat to see the more comic relief character standing up to this timeless group. Very fun.

Miles O’Brien becomes a “Visionary” during a visit to the station from the Romulans. Having provided the Defiant with a cloaking device, the Romulans now want their intelligence information about the Dominion in exchange. Something affects the station, zapping O’Brien who starts going all Billy Pilgrim unstuck in time and flashing 5 hours into the future.

At first, it’s simple things like a Klingon/Romulan bar fight he sees, but later, he sees his own death and finally the destruction of DS9. Dax traces the problem to a singularity that seems to be orbiting the station. When O’Brien triggers himself with radiation to go forward, he finds out exactly what happens- the singularity is actually a cloaked Romulan ship planning to destroy the wormhole to protect the Alpha Quadrant from the Dominion. Miles dies in that flash forward, so the future miles comes back in his place, saving the day and stopping the Romulan threat.

It’s time for our annual “let’s screw with O’Brien” episode and this is a good one. Trek has always been touchy on just how their temporal physics work, and we can argue here whether or not O’Brien actually creates a series of parallel timelines as seen in “Parallels,” any Mirror Universe episode, and “Trek 2009.” This also furthers my theory that there IS no “Prime” timeline, and all of the Trek history we know is in fact a collection of similar but divergent interacting universes with varying degrees of difference. It also explains why sometimes my keys aren’t where I am sure I left them. The Romulans questioning DS9 crew about the Dominion is well handled here, especially Kira’s friendship with Odo, who is one of the “Founders” according to the Romulans, actually bringing some of his behavior into question. Another thing I love here is the idea that maybe the Romulans are on to something- collapsing the wormhole does protect this part of space from the superior forces of the Dominion.

NEXT VOYAGE: Bashir is trapped and aging, having to listen to “Distant Voices.”

#Star Trek #star trek: Deep Space Nine #ds9 rewatch

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vaguely-concerned · 6 years

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overwatch hogwarts houses; a proposal

Ana is a Slytherin, in the Tiffany Aching vein; she’s all about protecting what’s hers (her people, her family), and for a while there she made the whole world hers.

Bastion: Maybe N/A because it’s a bot and I’m not sure the sorting hat comes with bluetooth but also Hufflepuff b/c it just wants to chill in a field and hang with its bird buddy while looking at some flowers

Brigitte is the valiant Hufflepuff keeping Reinhardt’s unrelentingly Gryffindor ass alive and frankly deserves a medal

D.va is a Gryffindor, maybe? I feel like her drive towards competition is more from the gut, instinctive, boisterous than the ambition you’d see from a Slytherin

Doomfist is a Slytherin, of the classy ‘well that ideology sure is Fucked Up but at least you’ve thought it through and made it very eloquent’ variety

Hanzo is a Ravenclaw and is mortified about it. Like they put the hat on his head and with all the vehemence his eleven year old mind could muster he thought ‘you will put me in Slytherin’ and the hat was like ‘lol no nerd’ and no amount of his father taking him aside for earnest talks about philosopher kings and how many great leaders have also been great scholars could make him feel less like a failure; he knows what he’s supposed to be and isn’t. The cherry on top of course came a few years later when it turned out that

Genji is a natural good-natured Slytherin, now with some extra zen post character development. (To show my work a bit: Genji seems to have always had more of a drive towards personal ambition than his brother, even if that ambition was only to get to live his own playboy life. Meanwhile Hanzo wants to fulfill a duty imposed on him by outside forces and is oddly rudderless on his own, and a lot of his comments are instead about ~*mastery*~/studying something to perfection. Also they’ve got the green/blue thing going on and I never pretended to be all that deep *shrug*)

Junkrat: See, this one is really hard because in the books he would definitely be one of the background comic relief Slytherins with Roadhog, ala Crabbe and Goyle, but I also feel like that level of taking joy in explosives is 100% a Gryffindor trait, so tbh idk, look into your own heart for your answer to this one

Lucio: Precious Gryffindor DJ, here for Freedom and Sick Beats

McCree: Listen if it walks like a Gryffindor and quacks like a Gryffindor and is colour-coded-for-your-convenience like a Gryffindor...

Mei is a Ravenclaw. She’s gonna have to science the shit out of this.

Mercy is maybe also a Ravenclaw? Potentially a Hufflepuff? I’m not sure I’ve seen enough of her. Like she’s obviously a genius but her motivations seem to come from wanting to help people rather than intellectual curiosity, idk

Moira is a real messed up Ravenclaw who’s just here to do some fuckin’ science and neither the scorn of god nor man can stop her

Orisa is a pure Hufflepuff three month old who only wants you to be safe, truly the one unproblematic fave

Pharah is a Gryffindor? I feel like her sense of Justice is too brash and absolute for her to be a Hufflepuff

Reaper/Reyes: Who the FUCK EVEN KNOWS ANYMORE MAN, the sorting hat spontaneously caught on fire the moment it touched his head. Tentatively: maybe he started out as a well-intentioned Slytherin and went a bit too far in the goals-justifying-the-means direction eventually?

Reinhardt: HONOR!!! JUSTICE!!!! REINHARDT REINHARDT REINHARDT is a Gryffindor

Roadhog: See Junkrat; tentatively a Slytherin, “What’s mine is mine”

Soldier 76: Another hard one, but I guess no one outside of Gryffindor could be so unfathomably extra about Not Being A Hero Anymore

Sombra is the coolest kid in Slytherin

Symmetra is a Ravenclaw, order out of chaos bitches

Torbjörn: Surprisingly difficult for me. Technically a Ravenclaw too, I guess?

Tracer: Sweet adrenaline junkie ADHD Gryffindor gal

Widowmaker: Hard to say because her current personality is created through suppression of her real one? Let’s say Talon planted her as a sleeper agent in whatever house doesn’t mind you being blue and weird about spiders

Winston might be one of those trick ones, Hermoine style -- boy looks like a Ravenclaw, is actually a Gryffindor? Honestly I’ll accept either one here, he’s both a wonderful nerd and an idealist cinnamon roll determined to break the law by bringing the band back together again if it’s the Right thing to do

Zarya is a Hufflepuff. “I lift as well as I do because it cannot be avoided”

Zenyatta: From his backstory I feel like he was a lone Hufflepuff in a monastery full of Ravenclaws. “Yeah you guys all this high-flown theory sure is great but maybe... we should just... talk to people and see how that works???” “Ahaha oh yes you always were a joker Zen”

#overwatch #meta #if you REALLY stretch that concept to its very limits lol #hogwarts sorting #long post #not tagging all those characters lol #so I just spent this evening in a fevered rush writing this nonsense how are you doing #his was done 100% for fun btw pls don't @ me lol

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paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 · 7 years

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Taking Action

FINALLY. Months of writer’s block and my typing laptop’s battery finally dying, my next chapter in the Mary Grayson Talon story is here. Call this a very late Christmas present for you all.

Constructive criticism is always welcome.

@lightdusk96 @fireflyxrebel @tarisilmarwen @nightglider124 @robxstar , Thanks for everything, you beautiful bastards

As the Xenothium factory hummed down below from her rooftop position, The Talon lets a breath that shows itself as a little cloud of fog courtesy of the cold air. Red X was in position, as he signaled bird clad warrior,

“Alright ma’am, I’m rolling up to the front doors.”

“Ok, so far so good. I guess I’ll be making my way around then.”

“Before you do anything though, remind me again how this can put a dent on these Court guys again?

“Easy, the owner of this cooperation is an Owl. I have scared off plenty already but it looks like they’re moving ahead with their little plan and I can’t, I repeat, I CAN NOT risk the Titans or even the candidates for the Mayor get caught in the middle of something I can stop. So letting this one know of what we prove a turning point.”

“How exactly…?”

“In recent years, The Court has been supplying their Talons with Xenothium based weapons, weapons that can pass even through a metal detector without any hassle, in which can only boost their killing power, and bear in mind that power was pretty deadly before I was even there…”

“So take away the big boys’ toys, and they’ll go sulk to their rooms for bed”

“Precisely”, nodded the Talon as she flipped off the last flag pole in her descent from the rooftop and begin making her way to the garbage truck parked outside the Xenothium factory.

As Red X, wearing not his signature suit but rather a simple workers uniform complete with a standard issue cap and convincing fake moustache hanging onto his face, makes his way pushing an entire hand truck’s worth of ‘Xenothium-filled’ barrels into the main entrance, he can’t help but not one puzzling question he has to address before he has to start talking to their workers around him.

“What about Chuckles and his happy little friends?”

As Mary Grayson the Talon knocks out a guard with the bunt end of her knife before dragging his unconscious body to the side, she replies with, “If the Titans or hell even Zucco’s men do take notice and start coming after us, you can get start making a run for the Xenothium and do what you do best.”

“So I’m bait?”

“Bait, who just so happens to have a way out.”

“Oh yeah, there’s you” X chuckles to himself.

Just in time too, for he’s now arrived at the main processing part of the factory itself, numerous machines humming a glorious and thunderous but calm buzz in their atmosphere, the random banging emerging from the top signifying the crushing of individual atoms that give Xenothium its nuclear sting when in use. Next one of these machines, X places one if his four barrels at a spot just close enough but not enough for anyone to take notice as the other barrels next to it are a relatively further distance from the machines. X does this three more times before finally just letting the hand truck go and making his way back to the doors.

“Alright, Ma’am, Phase 1 is a go.”

Mary, now making her way into the factory’s offices towards the owner’s own room, gives a nod and then a reply,

“Ok then, you might want to start dressing up for this party then.”

Red X couldn’t help but slip a small smirk as he exited the factory since now all it takes is a good signal to get everyone out of the way of what will soon be a firework show on par with that little comic he reads, V for…something, he forgot.

As X made his department into the streets, the Talon had finally reached the door to the owner’s room and to further increase her chances of entering, no guards were present. All she needed now was confirmation of the owner being present inside. Placing her ear on the door, Mary can hear a distinct, rough, almost Russian accent coming through…

“…Yes My Grandmaster. The weapons are almost ready. The night this city shall onto grips will soon come. By this week’s end, the prey of our fierce might will be consumed in the sharp claws of our might. Yes, the Titans will not even know what hits them by the time they even reach…the labyrinth. Those brats will know fear alright. Hail Barbatos.” The phone clicks off as said device was placed on its place. Now was the moment to strike.

With a blazing swiftness, the rouge Talon slips the door open and pins this man, Nikita Jughashvili, onto the wall with some wire sprouting from her knives keep him there. At any minute, she can trigger these wires to discharge a large voltage of electricity onto Nikita’s flesh. But for now, she didn’t want that, at least not yet, for now she wanted to talk.

“Mr. Jughashvili, I would like to discuss about your business.”

The wealthy man, along a streak of white and grey hair on his sideburns and one glaring brown colored eye with the other just a black orb in its place, just look at his assailant with a bit of shock

before letting it slip into… arrogance out of all things.

“Well, well, well, the golden girl of the Court finally decides to face me directly.”

“Why the smirk, Mister, you do realize of what I can do…”

“Though, I don’t care. Your defection however, intrigues me.”

“How’s that…?” Mary asks, right before being cut off by the sudden whooshing noises right behind her. Next thing she knew, three mores Talons, all in similar uniforms to hers, landed and whipped out their swords. Mary looks back at Mr. Nikita, who now had a nasty smirk growing on his face.

“You did not seriously believe your terrorism against the Court would go unnoticed now did you? Against the power of Gotham’s true fathers, there can be no victory. Do not spoil yourself and your already meaningless life fighting. Reconsider your efforts, simply let me loose from these wires, come upon your knees and say ‘I surrender to my Master with all intent and will forever grovel at his…”

*SLASH*

Nikita Jughashvili had never had a chance to finish his little monologue before Mary Grayson performs a clean yet bloody slice to the disgusting man’s throat, leaving his head to roll to the other Talons’ feet. They took this as their cue to lunge forward with their blades up in front, hoping to impale the rouge right here right now. That decision does not go well as Mary quickly draws her own swords from her back as the battle begins.

In the midst of sword clings and slashes that scratches all four birds, Mary manages to tap unto the communicator on her ear to signal X of the…little side block to their plans.

“Red X, can you hear me?”

“Just strapping on my last and got my handy dandy trigger to distract the…”

“Push that trigger, now!”

“Um…what was that?” Red X asks with a tiny bit of shock.

“It was a step up! They knew what we’re doing!! Check your sides!”

As if on cue, X looks to his left side, narrowly avoiding the sword blade and allowing it to hit the concrete block wall before swinging his leg without his boot on and slamming the Talon right on his head. Oh yeah…classic booby-trap. So one button press later…

Meanwhile…In Downtown Jump

Robin had just secured another tight landing on the neighboring rooftop after about three times in a row of doing such right after a classic grapple hook swing. The patrol had been going on for about three hours by now. Every now and then, a Trade Fed Helicopter would pass by but otherwise no activity had been reported for them. No lead up on his long lost mother, no clue on Slade’s whereabouts, not super criminal robbery, not even a dang small time gang fight. For the most part, the lack of activity both relaxed and infuriated Robin. The normally quiet nights always signaled to him that while having a soothing and calm atmosphere in which he can use to hang out with his friends, something sinister can using this time to plan cunning and damaging schemes that will, not can but will, hurt his friends and the city they’ve defending for years by now.

Both thankfully and regretfully, Robin’s wish for action was fulfilled when a massive explosion both in gunpowder and the red distinctive glow of Xenothium echoed from the Lokiva plant about 10 miles away. Something’s causing trouble, so now he knows who to call.

“Titans, meet me at Lokiva plant, NOW!”

“Roger that!” replied Cyborg

“Understood” replied Starfire

“On my way” replied Beast Boy

“Same here” replied Raven, and finally

“It’ll just take a minute” replied Kid Flash

Two minutes later…Lokiva Xenothium Plant

As all six member of this Titans team land in the outside of the plant, they frankly wish they hadn’t due to the amount of heat generating from the huge fire they see in front of their very eyes. The tall and daunting trees of flame and ash erupting from the building were the stuff of legend in terms of the size of pure destruction they have ever witnessed. On many levels, this flame storm reminds them heavily of Trigon’s ascension onto the mortal plane, and that’s a VERY bad reminding they need.

To their collective relief, fire trucks and police officers were on duty, tending to the numerous workers who’ve escaped and rushing into the towering flames pulling more of those workers out of the fiery maelstrom. That’s where they come. So then, a grand total of thirty minutes and about three back drafts in which would’ve leveled the entire block plus more had it not been for Kid Flash and Cyborg’s quick timing and thinking, and while every civilian was in fact accounted for and safe, now the question becomes very obvious: who started this explosion?

As the firefighters pressed onward dousing the towering flames, the answer became all the more

clear when Robin notices something on the rooftops on top of them all, what seem to be two distinct glowing little lights looking down upon the fire, perching like an owl glaring for its next prey. With an urge to chase down the lights, Robin’s body begins to slightly tense since he knows at the moment that this particular crisis was more apparently than hunting down the Talon. However, the Police Chief running the operation, Chief O Hara, had noticed this anxiousness and walks up to Robin, “We’ll take it from here, whatever you needed for, you can go.”

Robin nearly double takes, ‘But Chief, we can try helping with the…”

But then the good old O Hara places his hand on Robin’s shoulder, “I know the look of when you have something or someone vital to find, sonny. We’ll all be okay.” He finished with s small smirk and a nod

With that, Robin now knows what he and his Team must do and nods too.

“Titans, the firefighters can take it from here. Follow me!”

With that, Mary Grayson begins her chase across the rooftops away from the burning factory. By the time Mary reaches the third rooftop away, the distinct glows of Starfire, Kid Flash, and Cyborg appear rising from edge of the roof she was once on. It was made clear they would indeed follow her until they can get their hands on her. This was precisely what banked on though as she taps until her earpiece, communicating with Red X.

“They’re right behind me and closing,. are you on the spot?”

The feedback had a tad bit of static coming through but otherwise fine enough, “Yeah, I’m at the spot. Let me tel you something though, those Talon friends of yours REALLY don’t know the meaning of ‘piss off’”

A small chuckle came from Mary’s end, “Well that’s what they are trained and meant to do. Nut anyways, I’m closing in, stick to the shadows.”

“Gotcha”

The microsecond Mary taps out of her comm link, the distinct yellow lightning of Kid Flash nearly hits her face, indicating a missed punch. With that, she knew where she was now and with one more leap, Mary begins her descent down from her last rooftop and towards the alleyway down below. Barely dodging more of Kid Flash’s attacks and now Starfire’s trademark star bolts as she flips and hops down the building stairs, Mary only now begins to spot some UH 60 Blackhawk helicopters hovering above her and the pursuing Titans, indicating of Boss Zucco’s Trade Federation forces joining in the chase. This quick little speculation was confirmed with TF troops beginning their own descent via ropes coming out of the Blackhawks.

Finally, the rouge Talon touches the concrete, only to be met on both sides of the alley with opponents she really hadn’t banked on being together. Towards her left were the faceless and well armed TF troopers, all taking aim with apparent now pure shotgun, assault rifle and sub machine gun firepower and red dot lasers out of their aiming sights to ensure accuracy int his nighttime operation. On the opposite end were the Titans, living breathing spirits of strength made into teenage flesh and bone, all led by the one person she considers her dearest love in the whole world. Said love, whipping out his two escrima sticks with tasers at the ends, stared her down as Mary simply stood and stared back.

“Look whatever you are doing has gone far enough” Robin firmly yet loudly enough states with a tad bit a shakiness, “I know what you might be doing might be for the best for me, but the facts are that innocent people are getting hurt and maybe far worse, your little war has turned into full blown terrorist attacks! I-I-I don’t to say it l-l-like that…but you HAVE to stop all of this before more innocents are caught in the…” Robin never had a chance to complete his sentence. Mary simply just raises her hands into the air, dropping her bag unto the ground. Both the TF and Titans were simply…stunned. They didn’t honestly expect that.

They almost certainly didn’t also expect the lone Talon to simply walk up to them, not taking out any of her swords or knives, slightly dropping her hands in front of her, in a submissive position.

“Okay,” the Talon mutters, almost cheerfully, “you can take me in right now.”

“Uh ma’m?” Cyborg questions, his index finger on his left hand rightfully pointing out the swords on her back. Said question was almost immediately answered with the Talon proceeding to unstrap the swords from her, letting them and the belt of throwing knives drop to the ground.

Robin, taking said dropping as his personal cue, puts away his escrima sticks in place of high powered handcuffs. Apparently, his mother wanted them, so why not?

Taking note of the TF troops moving up by a least two steps as they prepare to apprehend his mother, Robin simply raises his hand up,

“We’ve got this.” he says with now absolute firmness behind it.

The troops look at each with expectant questioning looks on their faces. So much questioning so that the lead troop, distinct by his blue/red bandanna underneath his helmet, taps unto his own communicator to talk with the Boss himself. The almost silent atmosphere between the TF and the Titans lasts a grueling one or two more minutes before the lead troop taps his ear piece off.

Beast Boy felt and unnerving sense of what should the right question be at this moment, 'What The freaking hell is actually going on here and what we are doing exactly?!’.

Such a question will have to asked maybe later though, as the lead TF troops signals his squad via

head and hand cues; the Boss said the target was clearly in Titan hands and if we try blowing them away over this, the city officials especially the cops will notice and with all the publicity looking for ANY sort of scandal, big or small, they can use to discredit him, they will use this as their way to do so. Besides if anything, despite his deal with the Court, it’s clear that they weren’t not really so good fellas any and where mostly likely gonna take him out eventually and maybe, just maybe the team he openly bashes in his speeches will be far better as allies at the moment anyways. With the Talon on their hands, maybe they can even get an answer or two out of her without pointlessly torturing her like they would’ve done. So the order was given, “Stand down and just let the kids take the dumb-*ss bird lady anyways.”

With that, the TF begins their climb back up the ropes to their Blackhawks with the last troop to go up giving an unseen glare towards Robin and the Talon before the command of “Come on, Kenny!” from his comrades above in their Blackhawk cue him to take the rope back onto the flying craft.

“So….that was easy.” Kid Flash comments as the Blackhawks fly off and they are left with their bird themed prisoner.

Twenty Minutes Later….Titans Tower Holding Cells…

Mary Elizabeth Llodveski Grayson, now mostly stripped of her Talon gear including her mask and now fitting with most plain clothing that of course exposes her arms, face, and neck of the near grey and blue vein skin albeit with her still shining dark red hair wrapped in a ponytail, takes note of the relatively decent sized but still frustratingly apparent cell being in the shape of an average looking bedroom. More specifically, her own bedroom that she and her late husband John shared during their days as the Flying Graysons, right down to the poster of their troop on the wall right on top of her bed, the exact same spot she had back at the circus. She guessed her son had some courtesy to make sure she was comfortable in her stay, or rather imprisonment, in their Tower. Not that comfort would matter too much since her mission was accomplished; unbeknownst to both the Titans and the TF at her arrest, Mary had secretly dropped a USB drive unto the ground but at an angle neither side can see it right away. The only one person who knows of this drive was Red X, the politely albeit rough around the edges young man who’ve helped her escape the TF crackdown a few weeks ago and worked with her on covering her assault on one of her targets in this city. By now he should be safe and sound in his secret headquarters (i.e. the Robert Kane slums), USB drive in hand with all the info of what he needs to give the proper warning to both Zucco and most especially her son of what the Court plans to do…

Whoosh

The sliding doors open, revealing a certain red, green and yellow clad vigilante with a black domino mask and steel toed boots as he approaches Mary’s cell door.

“Why did you do it?”

“You mean the surrender part or the destruction of the Xenothium plant? Or even that maiming of that family?”

“All of it and you should know that Mom”

A deep sigh is heard from the other side as Mary gathers her thoughts, “It’s quite easy, Little Robin. A warning. to be specific, the first incident was meant to warn the Court that they will not make their city their own unless they get through me first. The last two things however, were more of their warning to me.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Well, i knew it but it’ll be a matter of time before the Court themselves took notice of what was I doing to their members left and right…”

“You mean that little girl whose limbs you shattered and now Mr. Jughashvili’s beheading?”

“And I freely admit my apologies for those two..”

“You better be thankful that we asked the Law and the TF to let us take you into our custody and you’re very lucky you can’t really die again, otherwise given what you’ve done and the type of people after you…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay Little Robin. I understand and frankly I do deserve whatever sort of punishment should be done to me right now and…”

“MOM!” Mary quickly gets stunted into silence.

Realizing his shout, Robin quickly breathes out to collect himself before letting his emotions get the better of him once again. “I’m simply here to ask you about why you surrendered. I can tell there’s something bigger you’re up to and need answers to them.”

“Please mom, you got to work with me here. Whoever’s planning whatever and if it puts innocent lives in grave danger, you HAVE to let us know.”

Mary, knowing of a semi desperation in Robin’s request despite no apparent signs of showing it, looks unto her hands to note, with her streak maiming and killing, it’s quite surprising her morally driven (a fact she’s very proud of) son would demand her the truth without resorting to much more…rougher methods of extracting the information she wants to tell them but couldn’t out of fear for their safety. Given what she knows now and the building pressure in the atmosphere, well might as well spill the beans.

“The Court of Owls are preparing for a certain night. Maybe later this week or even tomorrow, they are readying their finest assassins and soldiers into an all out assault. ”

“What soldiers?”

“Every Talon that’s not me, they’ve probably shipped about at least tens to hundreds of them here from Gotham probably just today. The Lokiva Plant was run by a well member of the Court, secretly crafting and preparing Xenothium weapons that these Talons can use.”

“For their attack? Mom, what kind of night are talking about here because it sounds like something we should’ve prepared for months by now.”

“They’ve prepared this night, A Night of the Owls, for months actually, a contingency should one of their own turn his back on them as they secret convert this city and its criminal underground into their own. Granted, they never had total control of even Gotham even when you were little, given the amount of villains that hellhole already has…”

“The point?”

“By at least the end of this month from now, a full entire Private Army of assassins like me but without any thought of their own will target ANYONE that can stand in their way of claiming this city as their own.”

“Anyone? As in whoever’s running the city?”

“Along with whoever’s running to take charge like Zucco and especially it’s resident self proclaimed protectors.” Mary finishes somewhat mournfully given who she means with that last statement.

“You mean us.”

“(sniff) Pretty much yes. And it’s all my fault. Had I not thought of you and rebelled. I would’ve made sure none of this happened. I should’ve long dead by now. I should’ve let that fall just finish me off and I could’ve known you were going to be in good hands instead of the Court’s. (sob) God damn it all. (sob) Have could’ve been so God damned stupid?! How could I..?!”

Mary abrupt found herself cut off a sudden tightening around her chest section. Looking around her was the notable red tunic her son wears on duty now wrapped her as his arms were wrapping around her. Mostly one of the Graysons’ trademark 'cool down’ hugs they would give to each other whenever their own goes through emotional distress, like what she was.

As Robin finishes his cool down hug to his mother, his Mama, he quietly steps back outside her cells and gently closes her door before finally collecting himself to speak.

“Whatever comes our way, we’ll take it down. We will not let this city fall as far as we are concerned.”

Mary remains silent in near wonder of her son’s determination that she can clearly her.

“If we can beat a madman who went as far as torturing me on a mental level literally whenever I was in the dark, an entire of school of egotistical kids who want to be criminals or even the Devil himself and save our friends numerous times in the process, we can beat these Talons and this Court. The Court are just enough group of bad guys. They just so happen to be a little grey around the edges.”

“Can you?”

“We will Mom. And once the Court are beaten, no matter what night it’ll be, we’ll find a way.”

Noticing her son’s valiant determination in his little speech, Mary feels something else besides the usual Mother’s Love and pride at work work…something rather more on her mind..something that says to her “Yeah, you didn’t really need to do all of this, but this is your chance to free yourself from these criminals and live a new life outside”…something that says confidence in her future ahead,,,something that let’s her know it’ll work, no matter if it’s the hard way or not, it’ll all work out in the end…something that says…hope.

Yeah..that was it…hope. And her son gave it, of course he would, he is her Little Robin after all.

Epilogue : Robert Kane Slums

As Red X entered his abandoned house/HQ via the secret window, he checks his belts for signs of that dang stick of plastic Mrs. Talon made such a fuss earlier that day to make sure he got once she was taken in by Chuckles and his friends.

Quickly noting the USB drive safe and sound and making his way to his little laptop, X turns on the little computer as he pulls off the skull like mask of his face , letting loose his black hair with a white streak on the front end and his near pale skin, with a notably 'J’ mark on his right cheek so said facial features can breathe in fresh air as the laptop loads.

As the laptop screens finally shows and the USB given by Talon in secret registers, one note file appears, “WARN THEM ALL; ASSEMBLE THE TITANS”. Clicking open the file, X couldn’t find himself both amused and even alarmed of what was being loaded onto his screen.

'Ofelia Garibaldo, City Manager.’ 'Tina Polanski, Jump Public Advocate’ 'Slade Wilson, Criminal Mastermind and Former Mercenary for the League of Shadows and United States Government’ 'Jason Haywood Todd, Local Thief known as the Red X’ The names went on, up to probably a thousand and growing by the time the file was halfway done.

On yeah, this was big. X might not be a hacker or expert of sneaking onto Titans lines by any means…but he knows he has to…given what the birds here are going to do. Better act fast though.

Meanwhile, Jump Civic Authority Party Headquarters, Downtown

“You heard me right guys. I quit.”

“Certainly, you must be joking of such. No single man dares to defile a deal made with us and expect no consequences as a result,”

“Oh I know, I’ll get consequences. I’ll be expecting those birdies or yours to barge in my office and saying the usual 'The Court has sentenced to die’ shtick maybe while I’m doing some paperwork or listening to ave maria while trying to perform urinating in my toilet upside down out of boredom on the day you’re ready. Frankly, I can’t even give a damn if I try with sincerity.” Zucco states as his cigar smoke reaches the ceiling fan as the hologram call from the masked Owl glares him down as if he was on spot, given said hologram showing the man in his appropriate size when faced for real.

“You shall pay for this defiance.’

"I paid for plenty in my life, Paid for stuff i didn’t even do. The fact of the matter is that I didn’t get your Talon and you probably going to take me out once I was elected anyways. The deal was off the minute she got away from my boys twice by now. So yeah, bottom line is, it’s off and you better have enough Talons to try to get me when this 'Night’ thingie blows over. IF push comes to shove, I’ll fight alright. Screw you guys, I’m staying at my new home.”

“YOU WILL-”

“Ah ,ah. Screw you guys.”

Thus Zucco hangs up and the Owl’s hologram fades out.

“Come and get me. I dare you”

#mary grayson #red x #dick grayson #court of owls #tt animated #my posts #fanfic

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