#she understands the flow of things enough to predict

[aparticularbandit]

Junko's the Ultimate Analyst, right? So if she analyzes someone's Talent, then she can reproduce it.

Which means - like with Sakura or Akane - she could learn some sick fighting moves.

But Junko is still a scrawy ass starving model (reference: she's 5'7" and 97lbs; that girl is starving and has no muscle), so she can mimic all of the techniques but she does not have the muscle memory to keep it up and she will wear out pretty quickly. If Junko doesn't win within, what, the first five minutes? ten minutes? she's out.

(Fighting Junko is like fighting Sans. It's an endurance thing. She will wear herself out. Eventually. And then you bop her on the head and keep going.)

[jupiterpilgrim]

Drown With Me

Pt.2: Interpolation

Ningning x Minji x Male Reader

word count: 7K

part 1 | part 3

A/n: Pt.2 and pt.3 were supposed to be a single chapter, but it was split in two because of the block limit.

I wish I could be everything you wanted.

—

Oh, here we are again. But this time we're going back in time. We journeyed into the past because some things must be witnessed. And I say 'witnessed,' not 'understood.' For understanding confines the subtleties of human connections to a singular perspective, and that restricts the strange language of the heart.

We're at a bar now, where a lot of stories start. This is one of those:

The lights are dim and amber, casting warm shadows over the polished countertops and the scratched wooden floor. It’s a quiet Tuesday night, a lull between the weekend rush and midweek regulars. You’ve been working here long enough to know the rhythm of it—the predictable ebb and flow of people looking for drinks to drown whatever piece of life was gnawing at them. But then, just as you’re stacking a row of freshly washed glasses, the door swings open, and in walks her again.

She hesitates in the doorway, framed by the cool, blue glow of the streetlights outside. The first thing that grabs you, as it did last night, are her eyes—huge, almond-shaped, and impossibly feline. The kind of eyes that make you forget what you were supposed to be doing. They dart nervously around the room before finally landing on you, and for a moment, she freezes.

“You again,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. You lean casually against the bar, arms crossed, trying not to seem too eager.

She’s wearing a cropped, black leather jacket that clings to her slender frame, sharp and a little out of place against the pale softness of her features. Beneath it, a white tank top hints at the curve of her collarbone and the toned lines of her stomach. Her high-waisted jeans, faded and torn at the knees, hug her slim legs like they were stitched onto her body. The scuffed Doc Martens on her feet somehow make her look even more striking—an accidental runway model lost in a world of beer stains and neon signs.

Her broad shoulders, almost too strong for her petite height, square up as if she's trying to summon some hidden reserve of confidence. But it’s her shyness, that hint of hesitation in every movement, that makes her feel like a puzzle you want to solve. She brushes a lock of jet-black hair behind her ear, her eyes darting away from yours as though the floor might swallow her whole if she stares for too long.

You tilt your head toward the bar, beckoning her closer. “Second night in a row, huh? You sure you’re not stalking me?”

Her lips part in a soft laugh, so quiet you almost miss it. “Hardly. My friend dragged me here yesterday. Tonight… I just needed some air.”

Her voice is as soft as her laugh, tinged with a slight huskiness that adds depth to her otherwise delicate demeanor. She approaches the bar slowly, her movements careful, like someone who’s always aware of the space she takes up.

“Well,” you say, pulling a coaster from under the counter and setting it down in front of her, “welcome back to the quietest bar in town. What can I get you?”

She perches on the stool, her knees pressed close together, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket. “Um…just a Coke, actually.”

“Coke?”

She nods, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, only to dart away again. “I don’t drink much.”

“Second night in a row at a bar and no drinks? You’re full of surprises.” You grab a glass and pour the soda, sliding it toward her. “Not that I’m complaining. Makes my job easier.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again, a nervous habit, you realize, but it only adds to the quiet allure of her presence. “You work here often?”

“Most nights.” You lean against the bar again, giving her your best casual smile. “And you? What’s your excuse for gracing us with your presence twice in a row?”

“I’m…” She hesitates, then shrugs. “I guess I just liked the vibe. It’s not like other places.”

“It’s not like most places because most places actually get customers,” you joke, gesturing to the mostly empty room. “But hey, if the vibe brought you back, I’m not going to argue.”

She smiles, faint but genuine. “It’s nice. Quiet. Less… intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” You raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

She fidgets with the straw in her glass, swirling the Coke absently. “Bars aren’t really my thing. Too loud, too crowded. I usually avoid them.” She glances up at you, almost shyly. “This one feels… different.”

You don’t miss the slight blush that creeps up her neck as she speaks, and something about it tugs at you. “Different’s good,” you say softly. “I like different.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The faint hum of the jukebox in the corner fills the silence, playing some slow, melancholic track that perfectly matches the mood. You watch as she takes a small sip of her drink, her lashes casting long shadows over her cheeks.

“So,” you finally ask, breaking the quiet, “what’s your name? Or should I just keep calling you ‘Coke Girl��?”

Her lips twitch into a smile again, a little more confident this time. “Ning Yìzhuo. And you?”

“Coke Boy,” you deadpan, earning a small laugh from her. “Kidding. It’s—”

The door swings open again, cutting you off as a group of rowdy patrons stumbles in, disrupting the peaceful bubble you’d been sharing. Ningning’s shoulders tense immediately, her fingers tightening around her glass. You can tell she’s debating whether to stay or bolt.

You lean closer, your voice low. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless. Plus, I’ve got your back.”

She looks at you, her eyes searching your face for something—reassurance, maybe. And whatever she finds there seems to calm her, if only a little. She nods, taking another sip of her Coke.

You don’t know why, but you can already tell she’s going to stay with you longer than just tonight. Something about her feels significant, like a spark of lightning caught in a jar. Quiet, shy, and utterly captivating.

—

The weeks bleed into one another, and before you know it, Ning is a fixture at the bar. Not officially, of course. She doesn’t work here, doesn’t drink much, and always leaves by midnight like Cinderella with a self-imposed curfew. But she’s here. Three nights a week, like clockwork, perching on her usual stool and ordering her usual Coke, sometimes daring to live dangerously with a Sprite.

At first, you thought she came because it was quiet, because she needed a place to escape whatever stresses her life held. But it’s become increasingly clear that the bar’s charm isn’t the only thing pulling her back. It’s you. And you’re not mad about it.

Tonight, she’s dressed like she always is—effortlessly cool in her slightly oversized sweater, rolled-up jeans, and her beat-up Doc Martens. Her leather jacket is slung over the back of the stool, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like ink. She’s got her sketchbook with her tonight, the same one she’s been carrying for weeks. You’ve seen glimpses of the drawings—sketches of people, abstract swirls, the occasional cat—but she guards it like it contains state secrets, never letting you get a proper look.

“What are you working on this time?” you ask, leaning on the counter with the practiced nonchalance of a bartender-slash-business-student who definitely isn’t secretly invested in whatever she’s drawing.

She glances up from her page, cat-like eyes sparkling under the warm glow of the bar’s lights. “Nothing special. Just doodling.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you point out, reaching for a clean glass to wipe down. “And then you showed me that sketch of that old guy in the corner, and it looked like something out of a museum. You can admit it, Ning—you’re talented.”

She ducks her head, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “It’s not that good.”

“Sure,” you deadpan, “and I’m not the best bartender in this city.”

She laughs—a soft, melodic sound that you’ve started to look forward to more than you’d like to admit. “You’re not even the best bartender in this bar.”

You feign offense, clutching your chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” she says, smiling up at you. “Which is why I’m honest with you.”

“Brutally honest,” you correct, smirking. “Fine. Tell me this: do all fine arts students have this much sass, or are you just special?”

“Special,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “And for the record, it’s not fine arts. It’s animation and visual effects. Totally different.”

You nod sagely, as if you know the first thing about animation or visual effects. “Ah, of course. Animation. You’re going to make the next Toy Story, right?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “Something like that. What about you, Mr. Future CEO? Made any spreadsheets cry lately?”

“Every day,” you reply solemnly. “It’s part of the curriculum in business administration. They don’t let you graduate until you’ve traumatized at least three Excel files.”

Her laugh comes easily, her shoulders relaxing as she sips her Coke. She looks comfortable here now, like this place—and you—have become a safe haven for her.

It’s nice.

She’s nice.

“You know,” you say, setting the glass down and leaning closer, “when you first started coming here, I thought you were just using the bar as a library with worse lighting.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And now?”

“Now I think you’re here because you can’t resist my charm.”

She snorts into her drink, nearly choking. “Your charm? Please.”

“Hey, admit it. I make this place bearable for you.”

She tilts her head, pretending to consider. “You do make pretty good jokes.”

“High praise from the queen of sarcasm.”

Her smile softens slightly, the teasing edge in her voice fading. “I just like talking to you. You make things… lighter. Easier to deal with.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s rare for her to let her guard down like this, and you feel a sudden, inexplicable urge to keep it safe, to make sure she never regrets being vulnerable.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “as long as you keep coming back, I’ll keep telling terrible jokes. Deal?”

“Deal,” she says, holding out her hand like you’re signing a legally binding contract.

You shake her hand, her skin warm and soft against yours. There’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where the noise of the bar fades away, and it’s just the two of you. Friends. Companions in this odd little corner of the world.

“By the way,” you add, breaking the moment, “if you ever need a businessperson in one of your animations, I know a guy.”

“Let me guess,” she says, smirking. “He’s incredibly charming and makes terrible jokes?”

“Exactly.”

She laughs again, and for the rest of the night, the bar feels a little brighter.

—

Ning sits cross-legged on her bed, a pencil tucked behind her ear and her sketchbook balanced on her knees. The room is bathed in soft, golden light from the desk lamp Minji insisted on buying, claiming it was better for productivity. Across the room, Minji herself sits at her desk, perfectly upright, fingers flying across the keyboard of her sleek laptop. She looks like a Vogue spread come to life, even in her oversized knit sweater and black leggings, her shiny, straight hair falling effortlessly over her shoulder.

Minji’s skin practically glows, the kind of flawless complexion that makes you wonder if she’s secretly Photoshopped in real life. Her glasses—a stylish, rectangular pair with gold rims—rest perfectly on the bridge of her pointy nose, framing dark, intelligent eyes that seem to miss nothing. Her lips, soft and plump, are painted a subtle pink, just enough to look effortlessly put together. She’s everything Ning isn’t: confident, composed, intimidatingly perfect.

Ning chews on her pencil, staring at her friend’s back. “Hey, Minji?”

“Hm?” Minji doesn’t look up from her screen. She’s probably working on some group project for her international business course. Even in her downtime, Minji is an efficiency machine.

“How do you, like…” Ning hesitates, fiddling with the corner of her sketchbook. “How do you get guys to notice you?”

That gets Minji’s attention. She swivels her chair around, fixing Ning with a look that’s equal parts amused and curious. “What kind of question is that?”

“You know what I mean,” Ning mumbles, heat rising to her cheeks. “You always have a line of guys chasing after you. It’s like… you just exist, and they’re obsessed with you.”

Minji raises an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not like I’m trying to get their attention.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Ning groans, flopping backward onto her bed. “You don’t even try, and they’re all over you. Meanwhile, I could walk into a room naked, and no one would notice.”

“First of all, don’t do that,” Minji says dryly, folding her arms. “Second, you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not,” Ning mutters, staring at the ceiling. “You’re like this goddess of elegance or whatever, and I’m just… me. How do you make people like you?”

Minji sighs, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in that annoyingly perfect way she does. “It’s not about making people like you, Ning. You just have to be yourself.”

Ning sits up, frowning. “That’s so easy for you to say. You’re perfect. People like you without you even trying.”

“I’m not perfect,” Minji says, though the way she says it makes it clear she knows she’s pretty close.

Ning snorts. “Please. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re the only person I know who actually looks good in those glasses. And don’t get me started on your ‘I just woke up like this’ hair.”

Minji chuckles softly, a sound that somehow feels condescending and comforting at the same time. “Okay, fine. Maybe I have some good qualities. But seriously, Ning, if you want people to notice you, just… put yourself out there.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not shy,” Ning mutters, pulling her knees to her chest.

Minji leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Shy people are fine, but if you never let anyone see who you really are, how are they supposed to notice you?”

“What if who I really am is… shy?” Ning asks, her voice small.

“Then be the best version of shy,” Minji says simply. “Confidence doesn’t mean being loud or outgoing. It just means being comfortable with who you are. People are drawn to that.”

Ning stares at her, skeptical. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Minji admits, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “But if you don’t at least try, nothing’s going to change. And trust me, you don’t need to change who you are. You just need to stop hiding it.”

Ning chews on her lip, mulling that over. Minji makes it sound logical, like a formula to be solved. But Ning isn’t sure she can simply flip a switch and become “the best version” of herself.

“And if it doesn’t work?” she asks.

Minji shrugs, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Then it’s their loss.”

Ning laughs despite herself, the tension in her chest loosening just a bit. “You’re annoyingly good at this, you know that?”

Minji smirks, turning back to her laptop. “I know. Now stop overthinking and start being fabulous. You’ve got this, Ning.”

Ning watches her friend for a moment longer, a mixture of admiration and frustration swirling in her chest. If Minji says she can do it, maybe she can. But it still feels like an impossible climb.

“Hey, Minji?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Minji doesn’t turn around, but her voice is warm. “Anytime.”

—

The door to the bar swings open, and in walks Ning with a determined look in her cat-like eyes. She’s wearing a fitted white crop top that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, a plaid mini skirt, and her signature scuffed Doc Martens. Her hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, and there’s a hint of pink gloss on her lips. Tonight, she’s decided, is the night.

No more shy, stammering Ning. Tonight, she’s confident, bold, maybe even flirty. She’s spent the past three days psyching herself up for this moment, replaying Minji’s advice in her head like a mantra. Put yourself out there. Be the best version of yourself. You’ve got this.

The bar is warm and dimly lit as always, the low hum of conversation filling the air. She spots you cleaning a table, laughing at something one of the regulars said, your easy charm on full display. You see Ning and wave to her with a smile. Her heart skips a beat, but she steels herself. You’ve got this, she repeats silently, striding toward the bar.

Or at least, she tries to.

What she doesn’t see, in her single-minded determination, is the bright yellow Wet Floor sign in the middle of the room. Her Doc Martens hit the slick patch of tiles, and suddenly, her confident stride turns into a cartoonish flail.

“Shit—!”

She feels herself going down, her arms pinwheeling as gravity takes over. But just before she hits the ground, a pair of strong hands catch her, one gripping her waist and the other cradling her back.

“You okay?” Your voice is close—too close—and when she blinks up at you, she realizes her face is just inches from yours.

Her heart is pounding, and not just from the near-death experience. Your eyes, warm and concerned, lock onto hers, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “I—yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” Her voice comes out quieter than she’d like, all the confidence she’d mustered evaporating on the spot.

You grin, helping her stand upright but keeping a hand on her arm to steady her. “That was a close one. You almost went full slapstick there.”

“Yeah, well, I like to keep things entertaining,” she mumbles, avoiding your gaze. Her ankle twinges as she shifts her weight, and she winces.

“You sure you’re okay?” you ask, noticing the way she’s favoring one foot.

“It’s just my ankle,” she admits. “I think I twisted it a little.”

“Let’s get you off your feet,” you say, guiding her to a booth in the corner. “Come on, sit down.”

“I’m fine, really,” she protests, but you’re already pulling out a chair for her.

Once she’s seated, you crouch down in front of her, gently taking her foot in your hands. “Let me check it out. I can’t have my best customer suing the bar.”

She snorts softly, despite herself. “It’s my fault for not seeing the sign.”

“Well, next time, try looking where you’re going,” you tease, flashing her a grin that makes her heart skip again.

You slide off her boot carefully, your fingers brushing against her ankle. She tries not to shiver at the touch, but it’s impossible. Your hands are warm and firm, and when you start to massage the sore spot, she has to bite her lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, her voice coming out a little breathier than she intended.

“Comes with practice,” you reply, focused on her foot. “My ex used to come home from work with sore feet all the time, so I’d give her massages. Got pretty good at it after a while.”

Ning’s ears perk up at the mention of your ex. “Oh?” she says, trying to sound casual. “What happened there?”

“She was… complicated,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Kind of jealous. Possessive. A little manic, honestly.” You pause, then chuckle, shaking your head. “I guess I have a type. Crazy girls seem to find me.”

She swallows hard, caught off guard. “Is that why you’re single now?”

“Pretty much,” you admit, still massaging her ankle. “Taking a break from relationships for a while. Thought I’d give myself some peace and quiet, you know?”

Ning’s heart sinks, though she forces a smile. “Makes sense. Less drama.”

“Exactly,” you say, glancing up at her with a grin. “And besides, who needs a girlfriend when I’ve got customers like you to keep me company?”

She laughs softly, but it feels hollow in her chest. She watches as you go back to massaging her foot, completely unaware of the tiny heartbreak you’ve just caused. But she doesn’t say anything.

Because Minji’s words echo in her head: Be the best version of yourself. And tonight, the best version of herself is just a good friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

—

The dorm bathroom is small, humid, and filled with the faint scent of citrus-scented body wash. The door is open, so the fragrance invades the whole bedroom. The overhead light flickers faintly, casting a soft glow over the scene. Minji stands by the sink in nothing but a pale lavender bra and matching underwear, her skin luminous under the harsh fluorescent light. She’s methodically applying lotion to her arms, her long, straight hair pushed over one shoulder to avoid smearing it. Every movement she makes is precise, deliberate, like everything else about her.

Ning is by the closet, half-dressed, rifling through her limited wardrobe with a furrowed brow. She’s wearing an oversized graphic tee that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone and the straps of her bralette. Her plaid pajama shorts are crumpled, a stark contrast to Minji’s immaculate appearance.

“Can I ask you something?” Minji’s voice cuts through the quiet hum of the room, soft but with that unmistakable edge of curiosity.

Ning freezes, her fingers lingering on the hem of a black skirt she’s debating on. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

Minji finishes with her arms and moves on to her legs, bending one knee and propping her foot up on the closed toilet lid. Her movements are unhurried, as if the question isn’t a big deal. “Where do you go every week? At night, I mean.”

She glances over her shoulder, her face warming under Minji’s unreadable gaze. “Nowhere. Just… out.”

“Nowhere?” Minji’s lips curve in a faint smile as she straightens up, tilting her head slightly. Her sharp, dark eyes scan Ning, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers fidget with the fabric of her skirt. “That doesn’t sound like nowhere.”

“I mean it’s not anywhere in particular,” Ning mumbles, turning back to the closet. She grabs a random top to busy her hands, hoping Minji will let it go.

But Minji doesn’t let things go. “Ning,” she says, her voice calm but insistent. “You’ve been going out at least twice a week for the past month. You get dressed up, come back late, and you never say where you’ve been. It’s weird, because it's not something you used to do.”

Ning turns around, clutching the top against her chest like a shield. “It’s not weird.”

Minji quirks an eyebrow, her lips twitching as if she’s holding back a laugh. “You don’t think so? Because to me, it looks like you’re sneaking off to see someone.”

“I’m not!” Ning’s voice rises slightly in protest, her face turning a deeper shade of pink. She tosses the top onto the bed and grabs her sketchbook from the desk. “Look, I take this with me, okay? How could I be seeing a boy if I’m bringing this?”

Minji’s eyes drop to the sketchbook, then lift back to Ning’s face, skeptical but intrigued. “I don’t know. Art students have strange habits. Maybe you’re sketching him while you’re there.”

Ning groans, plopping onto the bed and flipping the sketchbook open to a random page. “It’s not like that. There’s a bar I go to. It’s… quiet, and it helps with creativity.”

“Creativity,” Minji repeats, crossing her arms as she leans against the sink. Her hair falls perfectly over one shoulder, her glasses catching the light just enough to make her look like a chic librarian. “That’s your story?”

“Yes!” Ning huffs, holding up the sketchbook like it’s evidence in a trial. “See? Just sketches. No boys, no dates, nothing like that.”

Minji steps closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies Ning’s face. “So you’re telling me you sit at a bar all night, alone, with your sketchbook? That’s it?”

“Well…” Ning hesitates, her fingers gripping the edges of the book. “There’s this bartender I talk to sometimes. But he’s just a friend.”

“A friend.” Minji’s voice is flat, but there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “What’s his name?”

“Does it matter?” Ning mutters, ducking her head.

“Probably not,” Minji replies, her tone maddeningly casual. “But now everything is even more suspicious.”

Ning sighs, flipping the sketchbook closed. “Oh, whatever! He’s the bartender. We talk. That’s it.”

“And you’re just friends?”

“Yes.” Ning’s voice is firm, but her cheeks betray her with their telltale blush.

Minji watches her for a moment longer, then does something that catches Ning completely off guard. She smiles. Not her usual poised, mysterious smile, but something softer.

“Can I go too?”

Ning blinks, sure she’s misheard. “What?”

“To the bar,” Minji says, stepping closer until she’s standing right in front of Ning. “If it’s so great for creativity, I want to see it.”

“You want to go to the bar?” Ning asks, her voice incredulous. “The one I go to?”

“Why not?” Minji shrugs, grabbing her towel and tossing it into the laundry basket. “It’s not a date, right? If you’re just hanging out with a friend, I don’t see why I can’t come along.”

Ning stares at her, unsure whether to laugh or panic. “Are you serious?”

Minji leans down slightly, her glasses sliding down her nose as she meets Ning’s wide-eyed gaze. “Dead serious.”

“But…” Ning struggles to find a reason, any reason, why this is a terrible idea. “What about your coursework? You’re always busy.”

Minji straightens up, brushing her hair over her shoulder with practiced ease. “I can spare a night. Besides,” she adds, smirking, “I want to meet this ‘just a friend’ of yours.”

Minji’s calm confidence is both reassuring and terrifying. She knows Minji means well, but she also knows her friend. Minji doesn’t just show up. She observes.

Still, it’s hard to say no when Minji looks at her like that, her dark eyes steady and full of quiet determination.

“Okay,” Ning says finally. “You can come.”

Minji smiles, a triumphant glint in her eye. “Great. I’ll get ready.”

As Minji walks away, Ning flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. This was supposed to be simple. Just her, the bar, and a chance to take things slow with you.

Now?

She has no idea what’s about to happen.

—

The bar’s hum is steady but quiet tonight, soft music playing from the jukebox, mingling with the low murmur of scattered conversations. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and vaguely thinking about the economics lecture you skipped today when the door swings open.

You look up instinctively, and there she is—Ning. Except she’s not alone.

Ning walks in first, a bundle of energy in her casual but cool outfit: a cropped black sweater that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, paired with loose cargo pants that sit snug on her hips, and her ever-present Doc Martens. She looks great—like she always does—but it’s the girl walking in behind her that makes your breath catch.

Minji.

She’s dressed simply—an elegant cream blouse tucked into high-waisted, dark-wash jeans that make her legs look impossibly long. Her black hair falls in a sleek curtain down her back, and she’s wearing the kind of gold-rimmed glasses that make other people look like try-hards but somehow make her look even more stunning. There’s something about her presence—poised but approachable, with a quiet confidence that fills the room—that makes it hard to look away.

“Hey!” Ning’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she practically bounces over to the counter. She gestures enthusiastically toward her companion. “This is my best friend, Minji. You’ll love her.”

You recover quickly, setting the glass down and offering a smile. “Hey, Minji. Nice to meet you.”

Minji steps forward, her smile polite but warm. “Nice to meet you too. Ning comes here every week, I got curious and realized I needed to see it myself.”

You nod, trying not to seem too obvious as you take her in. “Well, welcome. Hope it lives up to the hype.”

Ning slides onto her usual stool, pulling out her sketchbook like it’s just another normal night. “He’s being modest. It’s the coolest place ever. And the bartender’s alright, I guess.”

You smirk at her teasing but find yourself glancing back at Minji. “What can I get you two?”

“The usual for me,” Ning says, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

She tilts her head slightly, considering. “Something light. I don’t drink much—health reasons.”

“Got it.” You start preparing the drinks, glancing at her again. “If you don’t mind me asking, health reasons?”

Ning's Coke is ready in moments, she takes a sip absentmindedly as she looks at her sketchbook.

“I have a heart condition,” she says casually, like she’s used to explaining it. “Nothing too serious, but I can’t really handle strong drinks.”

“Fair enough,” you say, sliding the glass across the counter toward her. “This should be light enough.”

She takes a sip, her lips curving into a small smile. “Perfect. Thanks.”

Ning, who’s been scribbling something in her sketchbook, looks up suddenly. “Minji has been really nosy lately, she wouldn't leave me alone until I brought her here, she's never done this before.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, raising an eyebrow at Minji. “Was she really that mysterious about it?”

Minji laughs softly, setting her drink down. “You have no idea. She’d leave without saying much, come back late, and when I’d ask where she was, she’d just shrug and say ‘out.’” She glances at Ning, her tone amused. “It was suspicious.”

Ning groans dramatically. “It wasn’t suspicious! I just didn’t feel like explaining.”

“Well, I’m glad you brought her along tonight,” you say, smiling at Minji. “It’s nice to meet one of Ning’s friends.”

“Best friend,” Ning corrects, nudging Minji with her elbow. “We’ve known each other forever.”

Minji chuckles. “She’s exaggerating. It’s only been a few years. But yeah, we’ve been through a lot together.”

You lean against the counter, genuinely curious. “How’d you two meet?”

“Orientation,” Minji says, glancing at Ning.

“At first I thought she was snobbish for being so serious."

“And I thought you looked like a troublemaker,” Minji counters, her eyes sparkling with humor.

You can’t help but laugh at their banter. “So, Minji, what are you studying?”

“International business,” she says, adjusting her glasses slightly. “What about you?”

“Business administration,” you reply, and her face lights up with interest.

“Oh, really? That’s great. What year are you in?”

“Third,” you say. “It’s not as glamorous as international business, but it keeps me busy.”

“It’s not glamorous,” Minji says with a small smile. “But it’s practical. And honestly, that’s more important.”

You nod, impressed by her straightforwardness. “So what made you choose international business?”

She takes another sip of her drink, her expression thoughtful. “I guess I like the idea of understanding how things work on a global scale. It’s a challenge, but I enjoy it.”

Ning, who’s been quiet for a moment, suddenly speaks up. “She’s being humble. She’s the smartest person I know. She even helps me figure out my art projects sometimes.”

Minji shrugs, clearly a little embarrassed. “I just give her feedback. She’s the real talent.”

You glance at Ning, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of feedback?”

“She helps me refine ideas,” Ning says, twirling her pencil. “Like, if I’m stuck on a concept, she’ll point out things I didn’t think of. It’s annoying how good she is at it.”

Minji rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of affection in her expression. “It’s not that hard. I just have an outside perspective.”

“Well, it sounds like you two make a good team,” you say, genuinely impressed by their dynamic.

Minji smiles, her gaze lingering on you for a second longer than you expect. “We do. But I think I understand why Ning likes coming here now. It’s… nice.”

“Yeah,” Ning chimes in, her voice a little softer. “It is.”

The three of you fall into an easy rhythm after that, talking and laughing like old friends. But every now and then, you catch yourself glancing at Minji, wondering what it is about her that feels so… magnetic.

—

The bar has never been livelier for you, not because of an influx of customers but because Ning and Minji have made it their unofficial hangout spot. At first, it was a bit surreal—Ning showing up with her best friend in tow, bright-eyed and eager to introduce her to her favorite bartender. But over the next few weeks, it becomes routine.

Monday Night

Ning and Minji arrive together, as they always do. Ning’s dressed in her usual casual style—cropped sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and her trusty Doc Martens—while Minji looks effortlessly polished in a tailored blazer over a white camisole and straight-leg pants.

“Usual?” you ask Ning, already reaching for the soda gun.

“Of course,” she says, hopping onto her usual stool.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

“I’ll take the same thing as last time,” she says, her smile easy. “That drink was great.”

You get to work, sliding the Coke over to Ning and preparing Minji’s light cocktail. “So, how’s the week been treating you two?”

“Terrible,” Ning groans dramatically, opening her sketchbook. “I’m behind on like, three projects.”

Minji snorts, glancing at Ning over the rim of her glass. “That’s because you spent the entire weekend rewatching Spirited Away instead of working.”

“It was research!” Ning protests, flipping through her sketches. “It’s a masterpiece!”

You chuckle, leaning on the bar. “She’s got a point. Spirited Away is definitely worth rewatching.”

Minji raises an eyebrow. “I don’t disagree. But maybe she could balance her research with her deadlines.”

The two of you share a laugh, and Ning pouts.

“You’re both nerds,” she mutters, earning a grin from you.

“Guilty as charged,” you say, raising a random glass in a mock toast.

Wednesday Night

Tonight, Minji’s in a soft blue sweater that matches her dark-rimmed glasses, her hair swept back in a loose braid. Ning looks a little tired, probably from pulling an all-nighter.

“You look like death,” Minji observes bluntly as they sit down.

“Gee, thanks,” Ning says, dropping onto the stool and slumping over the counter.

“You okay?” you ask, sliding her a Coke without waiting for her order.

“Just tired,” Ning mumbles, sipping her drink.

Minji tilts her head at you. “So, did you finish that econ paper you mentioned last time?”

You perk up, surprised she remembered. “Yeah, just barely. Turns out writing about financial markets at two in the morning isn’t fun.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Minji says, her lips curving into a small smile. “But I bet you still nailed it.”

Ning watches the exchange, feeling a pang of something she can’t quite name. She clears her throat. “Hey, can we talk about something not boring?”

“Sure,” you say, turning to her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Aliens,” Ning declares, grinning. “Do you think they exist?”

Minji sighs. “Oh god, not this again.”

You laugh, genuinely amused. “Honestly? I hope so. Would make the universe a lot more interesting.”

Ning beams, satisfied, while Minji shakes her head. “This is why she likes coming here,” Minji says dryly. “You encourage her nonsense.”

“Hey,” you protest, “it’s not nonsense. It’s curiosity.”

Minji chuckles, and Ning feels a little less out of place.

Friday Night

The bar is slightly busier, but the two of them still manage to snag their usual seats. Minji looks radiant in a sleek black blouse and gold hoop earrings, her makeup subtle but flawless. Ning, in her oversized hoodie and her Doc Martens looks comfortable but feels distinctly underdressed next to her friend.

“You look nice tonight,” you say to Minji as you hand her drink over.

“Thanks,” she replies, her voice calm and self-assured. “Ning practically dragged me out of the dorm, so I figured I’d make an effort.”

“You’re welcome,” Ning says with mock pride.

“So,” Minji says, turning to you, “tell me more about your business classes. Do you focus on entrepreneurship or management?”

“A little of both,” you reply, leaning on the counter. “Right now, we’re working on case studies about startups.”

“Oh, I love those,” Minji says, her eyes lighting up. “Which case studies are you doing?”

As you dive into the topic, Ning finds herself zoning out. The conversation is engaging—Minji is clearly knowledgeable, and you seem genuinely interested in what she has to say—but it’s not her world. She fiddles with her straw, feeling invisible as the two of you talk animatedly about market trends and business strategies.

Eventually, she clears her throat. “Hey, do you think they’d let me draw on the walls here?”

Both of you turn to her, surprised.

“I mean, this place could use some art,” she says, grinning.

“Go for it,” you say, laughing. “Just don’t tell my boss I approved it.”

Minji chuckles softly, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly creative,” Ning corrects, feeling a little more grounded again.

Sunday Night

The bar is nearly empty, the quiet hum of the jukebox filling the space. Ning is doodling absently in her sketchbook, while Minji sips her drink and chats with you.

“So, what do you do for fun?” Minji asks, her tone light but genuinely curious.

“Work, mostly,” you admit. “But when I have time, I like hiking. Clears my head.”

“I didn’t peg you as the outdoorsy type,” she says, a hint of teasing in her voice.

You shrug. “Gotta balance all the business talk with something peaceful.”

Ning glances up from her sketchbook, watching the two of you. There’s something about the way Minji leans slightly forward when she talks to you, the way her smile lingers a little longer.

“Do you hike?” you ask Minji.

“Sometimes,” she says. “But only when Ning drags me along.”

“Hey, I make hiking fun,” Ning protests, jumping back into the conversation.

“You complain the whole time,” Minji points out, smirking.

“Because you always pick the hardest trails!”

You laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Next time, you’re coming with us,” Minji says.

Ning blinks, caught off guard by the suggestion. She glances between you and Minji, unsure how to feel about the way this strange triangle is starting to form.

As the night winds down, the three of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, but Ning can’t shake the feeling that something is shifting—slowly, subtly, but undeniably.

—

The three of you have fallen into a strange, unspoken routine���meeting up not just at the bar but beyond it, like some evolving trio of mismatched energy. It feels natural, at least on the surface, even if Ning occasionally finds herself analyzing every interaction, dissecting every glance and laugh.

Tonight, you’re at the movies, sitting in a darkened theater. Ning insisted on watching the latest animated film, claiming it was "research" for her art, though the truth is she just really loves animated movies. You and Minji went along with it, no complaints. Ning sits between you and Minji, a giant bucket of popcorn balanced precariously on her lap.

Halfway through the movie, she notices how Minji leans slightly toward you, sharing whispered comments about the plot. Ning can’t quite hear what you’re saying, but the low rumble of your laugh makes her feel strangely uncomfortable.

“Pass the popcorn,” you murmur, your hand brushing Ning’s as you reach for the bucket.

She stiffens slightly, then relaxes. “Here. Don’t eat all the good pieces.”

“You’re weirdly protective of popcorn,” you tease, taking a handful.

“Popcorn hierarchy is a real thing,” she replies, smirking. But her voice sounds hollow to her own ears.

Minji chuckles, leaning closer. “She’s serious about it. She once bit my hand when I took the last caramel piece.”

“I did not bite you!” Ning protests, her cheeks flushing.

Minji glances at you, her smile lingering. “She absolutely did.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I believe it.”

The sound of your laugh sends a pang through Ning’s chest. She knows it’s stupid, knows she’s overthinking. But the way you and Minji interact—effortless, like equals—feels different.

Later That Week

The three of you are at a college basketball game, seated in the bleachers. It was your idea this time, a way to do something “normal and fun” after a week of classes. Ning, determined to feel confident, showed up in a cropped tank top and tight jeans, her makeup more pronounced than usual.

But as the game goes on, she notices the subtle ways you treat her. When she trips on the bleachers, you catch her arm, laughing softly. “Careful, kid. Don’t want you breaking something.”

“Kid?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally an adult.”

“Barely,” you tease, ruffling her hair in a way that makes her want to scream.

Meanwhile, when Minji leans over to ask you something, your tone shifts. It’s subtle, but Ning catches it. You’re attentive, leaning slightly closer, your voice quieter. When Minji laughs at something you say, it’s like the whole world fades out for a second, leaving just the two of you.

Ning fiddles with her phone, pretending not to notice.

At one point, Minji turns to her. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Ning says quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… not a huge basketball fan.”

Minji studies her for a moment but doesn’t press. She turns back to you, asking something about the game. Ning doesn’t bother listening.

The Bar, One Week Later

It’s a typical slow night, the kind you’ve come to expect when it’s not the weekend. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and occasionally glancing at the door out of habit. When it swings open, you look up, expecting to see Ning and Minji together as usual.

But it’s just Minji.

She steps inside, her presence as poised as ever. She’s wearing a fitted black turtleneck and a sleek gray coat, her hair tucked neatly behind her ears. There’s a calm confidence in the way she walks, like she owns the space without even trying.

“Hey,” you say, smiling as she approaches the bar. “Where’s Ning?”

“She’s sick,” Minji replies, sliding onto one of the stools. “It’s just me tonight.”

There's a hint of excitement in her voice, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The absence of Ning—her usual energy, her playful remarks—feels strange. But Minji’s presence is undeniable, grounding.

“Just you,” you repeat, setting a glass on the counter. “Alright. What can I get you?”

Minji smiles, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “Surprise me.”

part 3

[ophelieverse]

Oppy my baby,can you please please please take in consideration to write something about my man Cregan Stark?🥺🥺

⊹˚₊only you could have called me back home

Cregan Stark x fem!reader

-Summary:reader is from house Manderly and she meets Cregan when they are kids,during his stay at her house she reads him a book about mermaids to help him sleep during a storm.Years later he does the same thing for their children.

-I finally gave in and decided to try.This is the first time that I write for Cregan,even though i love him very much and i can’t wait to see him(I pictured in my mind Tom Taylor)so forgive me if this sucks.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was night,late evening.

The sky,which was usually a dark blue,was covered by a thick blanket of gray clouds that made the stars and that moon disappear,which were supposed to illuminate New Castle of White Harbor.The blue blazon with the green merman holding a trident,symbolizing House Manderly,was dancing in the wind.

A little girl,who seemed to be not older than eight years old,was observing the world and that summer storm,one of many she had seen in just a month.Sitting in her chamber,on the carpet in front of the window that brought into that small balcony,curled up and with her arms hugging her legs,she let her eyes get lost in counting the thousands of droplets that rested on that sheet of glass.

She began to stare at a drop of rain,trying to see it flow along the entire length of the window.But this one soon disappeared,bursting into smaller droplets or joining others.

For Lady Y/n Manderly,the rain made everything so fascinating.

She came closer to the glass,almost squashing her face against the door-windows and waiting for a thunder to arrive.She had never been afraid of thunderstorms,quite the contrary.She found them fascinating.She still couldn't conceive that all that noise and lights came from nature and not from something created by men.

Watching a thunderstorm was more interesting than reading a book.Her mother used to read her dozen of them to help her sleep at night,especially during storms like this one.But at the end,the books in their library all looked alike and never change final.If she didn't want to read them anymore she could just close them.While thunderstorms are unexpected and uncontrollable.But above all,always different.

People can never predict the duration or intensity of a thunderstorm.You can just try to guess or stay and observe it.And Y/n loved to see thunderstorms.

But that wasn't the case for everyone.

The little girl knew for sure that there was someone who instead hated them and had a big fear of them.A young boy,just of two years older than she was,the son of the protector of the North,had revealed that he was very afraid of storms during one.

Lord Rickon Stark had arrived to White Harbor four nights before,just in time for dinner,to discuss with Lord Desmond Manderly,Y/n father,about the union of their houses.A calm but still noisy storm was what welcomed them,alongside the blue and green blazon of New Castle.

Y/n didn't understand what was scary about those lights and noises,but she couldn't help but think about what the boy was feeling at the time.

That boy who was also her husband to be once they would be old enough to marry.They already knew each other,they had met in different occasions and places,yet they had never forged a particular bond or friendship.

Their characters were particularly different and they both knew that they would find themselves colliding easily if they became friends.Moreover, there had never been a particular opportunity to get to know each other better.They were always surrounded by their families,politicians and maidens.

They were simply two children,two heirs of big and powerful houses and one day they will become husband and wife.Nothing more,nothing less.

And yet,at that moment Y/n was just thinking.She was just thinking about Cregan.That was his name and what he had told her to call him when she had addressed him as “Lord Stark” with a polite bow.

Y/n wondered if he wasn't scared.

She remembered once,when there was a tournament in Lannisport,he didn’t showed up to see the horses in the morning when it started to rain.Once again,during a visit a the Wall he had been more restless than usual when he had heard the sound of the thunders.

But didn't the dark sky of the evening emphasize the whole thing even more?

Y/n loved night thunderstorms,she found them even more impressive.But also scary.Especially now that her mother was heavily pregnant and needed to stay in bed to rest,meaning that she couldn’t read her stories to help her sleep better.

In Y/n that fear gave a sudden adrenaline rush,but in Cregan no,she could have said it with certainty.So,after thinking about it for too long,the little girl got up,took the cloak on the chair and without even thinking anymore,she opened the window-door wide and within seconds she found herself on the balcony,while the rain was beginning to increase slowly.

That wing of the castle was where both Y/n and her brothers chambers were,the same place where young Cregan was staying,in the room right next to hers.

Y/n stayed for a while to observe the sky,and the drops of rainwater falling on the palm of her hand that she had turned upwards,fascinated by everything as a child could be.But she hadn't gone out to the balcony to admire all that,no.

If she had only wanted to do that,she would have been content to sit in front of the front door-windows as she had until then,instead of getting wet.

No,Y/n had gone out to check on Cregan.To make sure that he was alright.

Their balconies were connected,divided only by a low wall of light bricks.She had often seen the young boy on that balcony in those days,watching people occupying those crowded streets or just wanting to breathe some air.

And on those occasions they had just waved to each other politely with kind smiles.

Y/n knew that the window on that balcony led to the room where Cregan was staying.

Still in the rain,half protected by the windowsill of the upper floor,she barely reached out her neck to observe the young boy room.But it was dark and the curtains were pulled,a sign that Cregan was probably already sleeping,as he would on any night.

The little Lady wanted to call herself a fool for coming out of her room just to make sure that he was okay,a boy whose she exchanged a few words and nothing else.The same boy that one day would have been her husband but the she didn’t knew nothing about.

Yet,in some way,she was relieved.Relieved that he was not awake yet and afraid of those thunders.

A part of Y/n wanted to go back into her room and go back admiring that storm from behind the glass plate of the window,but first she got closer to the wall that separated her from her neighbor.

To,she said to herself,just to check more closely.Just to make sure.

But check what exactly?

Y/n shook her head.She really had to be out of her mind if now she was worried about an almost - stranger that seemed to not like her at all.She made to retrace her steps,when a curled figure caught her attention.

Sitting on the ground,with his shoulders leaning against the wall of that balcony and with a black cloak on him,he stood with his head hidden by the hood.Still like a statue,with his arms around his legs.Half of his body was protected under the windowsill,while the other half was being wet by that rainwater.

Y/n tilted her head to the side,confused.

“Who is that?And what are they doing?”she wondered.

Even though she knew very well who it was.It couldn't be anyone other than him.

«Cregan?»Y/n spoke without having the slightest control over her voice,attracting the attention of the boy.

Cregan raised his head,which he had kept sunk between his legs until that moment,turning his head then towards the young lady on the other side of the wall.His eyes were usually clear and calm,but now they were wide open with astonishment.

Wide in a way that Y/n couldn't but find adorable.

She ignored these thoughts and just reopened her mouth«What are you doing out here?Don't you see .. ?It's raining.»she asked with a soft tone.

“As if i hadn't noticed,Y/n”Cregan wanted to tell her with a little voice.He wouldn't have put on his cloak if he hadn't seen the rain.

But a part of him decided to keep his mouth closed.Lady Y/n was immensely pretty under the pale moonlight and wet by the rain.He had always been fascinated by her,by the way her eyes shined bright and the way she talked fast about something she liked and knew about.She made him nervous to speak whenever he was around her,she was far smarter and wiser than him even at that young age,always so kind and he was afraid to make a fool out of himself.Especially when he was still scared of thunderstorms.

Cregan didn't answer,just staring at her with his big blue eyes.

«Are you hurt?»Y/n brown furrow as she scanned his pale face to find something.

The rain kept falling and it seemed that its intensity continued to increase as the seconds passed.The trees in front of that castle moved to the right and left,driven by a force they already knew,but which they were still unable to repel.

Cregan shook his head and then spoke«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he just said.

Y/n nodded«I know that.But why are you outside?»she offered him a kind smile.

Cregan seemed to think about it for a while, undecided whether to say everything to her or keep shut up.But there was something in her,something that was pulling in from the inside.Something that was screaming at him to tell her everything that he was afraid of,because with her it would be safe,she would have kept him safe.She would’ve understood him and comforted him.

He chose the second option and returned to stare at an indefinite point of his cloak,hoping that the young lady with wet hair and sweet eyes would soon leave,leaving him alone.As he had only been until recently.

One day Cregan would have been Lord Stark,protector of the great North and he needed to learn to not be afraid of thunderstorms on his own.But Y/n presence,the little girl that would become his wife,was louder than any thunder and brighter than any light.

In fact she had no intention of leaving.

«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he found himself repeating and then adding«I really can't stand them.»he murmured.

She listened to him carefully,standing in front of that little wall,while Cregan continued to turn his back on her and look down as he spoke again:

«I can't sleep when there are thunderstorms.And being alone in the room,in the dark with only sudden flashes to illuminate,is scary.»he explained quietly.

Y/n nodded sympathetically,although she didn't find anything scary at all in his description.But for once she tried to put herself on Cregan side.

«So why don't you go to your father?My mother always makes me sleep with her when I have nightmares.»she asked with curiosity.

Cregan shook his head,clutching in that heavy cloak«He doesn’t want to.He say I have to overcome my fears sooner or later.»he said,with a glint of sadness in his eyes.

Y/n curled her nose,confused«And do you get over them by standing in the rain?»squeezing her hands to create a little bit of warmth.

This time he took some time to respond.

Then,shifting his gaze towards the horizon«It's less scary.I can see the lights of the villages and the boats passing by and I know I'm not the only one awake.I know I'm not alone.»he found himself admitting«It's less scary.Or at least I think…»

He didn't know why he was saying these things.Especially to her.For all his ten almost eleven years he had carried that fear of his with him without saying anything to anyone.Revealing his fear only to himself.And seeking comfort only in him.

A comfort that most of the time was not enough.

His father kept telling him that he was grown up by now,that he had to overcome his fear of thunderstorms by now.A fear that was too childish for his age.For the Lord he was destined to be.How could he protect people when he was the first to be scared?He needed to start acting like a man.

But how adult can a ten year old be?

Without meditating on his words,Y/n replied«And are you going to stay out here all night?Until the thunderstorm stops?»her angel face was worried.

Cregan just nodded,without staring at her directly in the eyes.The little girl made a grimace that the other could not see.It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.Yet she still didn't find the strength to leave him alone.Leave him there alone and go back to her room.

Y/n had felt,she had felt for a few seconds,almost a perceptible thread that drew her to Cregan.Maybe she was just imagining everything. Maybe it was just her childish mind that was playing tricks on her.Or maybe it was just that summer storm fault.

She didn't know,but now she felt tied to the boy with the dark cloak and blue eyes.

«Come.»Y/n voice was firm and warm.

Cregan jolted,surprised to still hear the young girl voice.He thought she had returned to the heat of her room by now.And instead there she is,on the other side of the low wall,reaching out to him with a pure smile on her face.

“She’s cute when she smiles.”Cregan immediately thought,noticing her soft eyes and all her teeth shining in the light of the torches in the street.

He also found her so reassuring.That kind of safety that he desperately needed.

«Where?»he asked confused.

Y/n smiled at him again,getting closer and reaching out her hand again,almost touching his face making him shiver.

«If you spend the night out here you're going to get sick.If you don't want to be alone,I'll keep you company.»she stated fiercely and he knew nothing would’ve changed her mind.

They were simple words.Words of a child of eight,almost nine,years old.Yet Cregan swore he had never heard such beautiful words.No one had ever given him such attention and didn't know whether or not to trust that young lady.

They had met numerous times and now they were even betrothed to each other,but they weren’t exactly friends.

And Cregan was very skeptical to those he knew very little.Especially the ones that made him feel nervous just by looking at him.

He decided to refuse Y/n invitation.

But when he made to decline the offer,the first of many flashes lit up the sky,followed by a noise so loud that raised Cregan hair,or more commonly called thunder.

The boy snapped to his feet in fear.Perhaps the idea of going out,so as not to stay in the dark of his room,had not been the best.Or maybe it was the worst idea that had ever occurred to him and only now did he find it stupid.

«So?Are you coming or not?»Y/n called for his attention again,noting the thin veil of blush on his pale cheeks.

She was younger than him by only two years,yet she was still more mature than him.She had this aura surrounding her,of someone that would have took care of him.Someone he could really start to trust and lay down his strength.A little sun,personal and only for him,to remind him that the storms he was so afraid of were only temporary while she would have been by his side forever.

Cregan found himself shaking Y/n hand,who helped him climb over the wall that divided them, and in a moment he was on the other balcony.

He crossed his eyes again with those of his future wife,who immediately answered him with another sweet smile and opened the window door,to let him enter in the warmth of her room and protect him from that storm.

Immediately closed the door behind them and,after a moment of uncertainty she spoke first«Give me your cloak,i’ll put it here with mine so that tomorrow the servants can wash them.»she told him,taking her off to remain in her pink nightgown.

Cregan blushed even more as he nodded as if in a trance and took off his dark cloak,handing it over to her and revealing a pastel-colored pajamas.

He thought it was impossible for a room to look like it owner,but Y/n bedroom was just like her:a mess of colors,books everywhere and with a pleasant warmth that made him feel safe.

«Why are you still awake?»Cregan suddenly asked,trying to not move around too much.

The little girl took two pillows from her bed and a blanket,walking to the fluffy carpet in front of the old fireplace that the servants had lighted up before she went to bed,once the thunderstorm had started.

«I like to watch the storms.»she said,patting the empty space next to her with one hand«Also,now that my mother is pregnant and my father stays up with his advisors,i need to check on her.»she continues.

Cregan looked at her carefully,the long hair falling free on her shoulders,her perfect face.He was right,she so much mature than he was,already taking care of everyone around her at such a young age,just like a proper lady should.

As he took place next to her on the pavement,still keeping a proper distance between them,Cregan realized that he didn't know anything about her.But he knew how much she loved her mother as he always saw the two of them holding hands.He didn't know if she had the same relationship with her father,who seemed to prefer her older brothers,but he still didn't have enough closeness to ask her for more information.

In fact,they had absolutely no closeness and it could be seen in the silence that fell between the two children.One of those silences that always arise in similar situations,when two people don't know each other but have to spend time together.

«Would you like to do something?»Y/n calm voice sounded even more melodious up close.

She tried to mask that awkwardness with a polite tone,asking her guest with a kind expression.

Cregan spoke little and for the rest of the time he just agreed or disagreed on a certain statement.

The younger of the two was shrinking her minds to think of some kind of game to play together, but the boy next to her would just stare at her,frowning,as if he was annoyed by that situation,while standing close to window of that room like he wanted to escape that situation.

Y/n curled her nose,bored by that sudden superior attitude that Cregan was carrying on himself.

«Look,you can still go back in the rain if you prefer.»she told him,with a sour tone.

She felt bad to see him frightened by that thunderstorm,but if he didn't even show her a minimum of gratitude or a spirit of collaboration, then he could very well leave.Y/n was a sunny child,always with a smile on her face and ready to raise the morale of anyone who needed it.

But“This boy is really unpleasant”she thought.

Cregan crossed his arms to his chest,squeezing his eyes and staring at her,offended and angry at the same time.He thought that he shouldn’t have accepted her invitation and that both their fathers had made a mistake by promising them.They would never get along.

He could very well go back to his room and overcome that storm on his own,as he had always done until then.He didn’t need Y/n help.He made a grimace in the direction of the little girl,who responded to the gesture by raising her eyes to the sky.

But when he was about to open the window door and return to his room,without his dark cloak,a flash illuminated the sky and his face.

Cregan eyes went wide,as he was falling backwards and ending up on the ground on his butt as he waited for the arrival of the thunder that did not take long to arrive.His lower lip trembled,while he couldn't move any muscle.

He hated how thunderstorms could do this to him.He hated how they could make him tremble and frighten.

“They are a normal thing,dictated by nature”his father had always told him.

Yet Cregan didn't believe it.He continued to hate thunderstorms.

And something told him that this fear of his would never go away.

«Cregan.... are you all right?»he heard a soft voice behind his back.

Cregan looked up and saw Y/n standing on her knees on the carpet and he only remembered at that moment of her presence.

The boy gasped,looking for an answer.But before he could speak,another flash lit up the room,and before the thunder could be heard,Cregan had already put his hands on his ears.

The arrogant facade,which he had previously put on,had now completely crumbled, revealing his insecure and frightened side.

Y/n didn't know what to do.

The annoyed face she had a little while ago,was gone.Now she was really worried for him.She just wanted to find a way to distract him,and to put an end to that clash of lights that illuminated the room.

Cregan did not move,with his head resting on his bent knees,and the palms of his hands were still covering his ears,in the vain hope of not hearing that almost metallic and shackled noises.

«It’s alright,don't worry.»Y/n tried to reassure him.But it seemed that no one could move the young boy.

«They usually just make a big noise and then they go away.»she continued with a reassuring voice getting closer to him.

But Cregan was still shaking, scared,and Y/n didn't know what to do.She was never scared of thunderstorms.She would have liked to hold him tight in a hug,to drive away all his fear.But she knew that if she did,she would only make things worse.

In the meantime,Cregan continued to make himself small,smaller and smaller,curled up almost on himself on that light pavement.

«I mean…deep down it's just water,isn't it?Water and lights.As if it were an ocean... and the oceans are beautiful,aren't they,Cregan?»she asked with a hint of hope.

Y/n was used to the water,she lived near the sea and she had grew up running up and down on her fathers boats with her brothers.Her mothers read her stories about fishes,sailors,mermen and mermaids.

And while he did not respond,too busy controlling his fear,Y/n came up with an idea.

«I know what to do!»she almost screamed,catching Cregan attention and shicking around the room,as if looking for something.

The boy looked at her confused,forgetting – but only for a short time – of the thunderstorm.

«There you are.»Y/n exhaled,almost relieved.

Cregan blinked,observing the more confusion she had created throughout that room,the books scattered on the floor and the cabinets wide open,just for that medium-sized old book she now held in her hands,with a proud and satisfied smile.He didn't understand what use that book could have,but he didn't breathe,limiting himself to observing the young girl sitting carefully next to him and opening it.

And then millions of billions of fishes began to swim between the old pages.Cregan mouth widened into an “o”, but he quickly closed it again before Y/n could notice his astonishment.It's just a very simple book of fairy tales,he said to himself.

Yet,in some way,it had distracted him.

«If you lie down on the bed,you can see them better.»Y/n spoke,making herself comfortable on her bed and starting to turning the pages.

Cregan grimaced,watching how she was smiling.That wasn’t proper.

«Why should I lie down-»yet another thunder��Alright... I lie down.»he immediately changed his mind.

He hurriedly took the steps that separated him from that bed,before sinking into the lavander sheets that smelled of flowers and vanilla.

Y/n by his side smiled at him.But Cregan didn’t,remaining impassive and jolting at every thunder.She closed the curtains around her bad,only the soft light of the candle on the nightstand remain.The 'lightning' factor had been solved.

«They're beautiful,aren’t they?»she said,tracing with her fingers the different fishes.

They were.Their shapes,colors,sizes were mesmerizing.

Cregan didn't know to answer again.Those bright,fishes seemed to moved quickly on all those pages in a continuous flow.They were simple,so damn simple,yet they had caught the his attention.

«Yes,they ar–»he tried to agree with her,but here's yet another thunder made him jump out of fear.

Y/n by his side watched him close his eyes and plug his ears with both hands.

She had to find a way to distract him from the sounds too.

«You see him?»she turned the page and pointed to a strange figure on the right corner.

A man with a tail of a fish.

Cregan turned to her,taking his hands off his ears and moving his eyes on what Y/n finger was pointing to.

«It’s a merman?»he sounded uncertain,the figure on the book looked like the blazon of house Manderly.

Y/n nodded her head confirming his question«They said that he loved another mermaid and when the pirates had captured her,driven by grief,he turned his body in marble creating White Harbor.»she explained him,showing him another picture of the place where now she was living.

Cregan looked confused,his eyebrows raising«Why would he do that?»

The girl next to him sighed,her shoulder touching his,the sweet perfume of her hair was tickling his nose.She was warm and soft and made his stomach twist and his hands sweat.

«I guess that he couldn’t live without her and preferred to die.»she simply answered«Years ago i used to cry when my mother read me this story.»she continued as she flipped the page.

In the dim light,he could see that her eyes were a little glassy and only now he remembered that just like him,she was still a child with fears like him and stories that made her cry in her mother arms.

«How about her?»Cregan eyes and hand went to point to a female picture.

A mermaid with a red tale and long wet red hair on her shoulders,sitting on a rock near the coast.Her beautiful expression seemed pained,her mouth opened as if she was saying something.In the distance seemed that a storm was coming,the waves crashing into the shore,dark clouds on the horizon.

Y/n smiled,stretching the book out to him so that he could take a better look«She was a princess that fell in love with a sailor.Her father,the King of the fourteen seas had forbidden their love.»she started to explain with a soft tone«They could see each other only on the beginning of the Long Summer,when her father was away in the ocean»she said.

Cregan yawned«And how did they knew when the Long Summer came?»he seemed genuinely interested now.

«The storm.»Y/n quickly answered«It was her way to let him know that she was waiting for him.She was calling him back to her.»in her expression he could find a hint of teasing.

He shuddered,the thing that scared him the most,for this children book,was just a mermaid calling for her lover.

«But how does he know?»he asked again and his voice was becoming softer,his eyes closing a bit,yet he stayed very curious about the story.

«Does he know what?»Y/n whispered.

«That it was her.»he continued.

«Because he had loved no else but her in his life.Only her could have called him back home.»she explained and he swore he could’ve seen her eyes shine bright.

«I hate her father.»Cregan mumbled.

He found it stupid,it was just a fairy tale to help people sleep,but if the mermaid father didn’t get in the way tonight he would’ve been scared.And that’s also must had been the reason why she wasn’t afraid of them.

Y/n giggles made him blush,as she shook a little onto him«But you know what’s the best part of it?For the rest of the summer there wouldn’t be any other storms,just the bright sun as the two of them could be together.»she whispered.

It was a way to say that after every thunderstorm that would’ve been the sun.Always.

«Wasn’t she scared of her father founding out that they were still together?»his voice was sleepy and his eyes heavy.

Y/n shook her head«Love is stronger than fear.»she stated«Don’t you find it beautiful?»she said then,a dreamy look in her eyes.

There was no answer.

Y/n turned to him,finding him with his eyes closed and his mouth half-open.His chest would rise and fall at a regular pace,while his slight breathing could be heard.She smiled at that sight as she stroked his hair.

Cregan had fallen asleep.Y/n was satisfied.Satisfied and happy.

She succeeded in her intent,help him and distract him from the thing that scared him the most.She wondered what Cregan would do at this time if Y/n hadn’t invited him?

He would probably still have been awake.Because the thunderstorm hadn't stopped,no,it had never stopped.The mermaid was still calling for her lover.

The flashes,however,had mixed in the images on the pages and the noise of thunder had been lost among the stories of Y/n mermaids.Cregan had been so busy observing those images drawn on the book and hating the King of the seas,that he completely forgot about the thunderstorm.

Y/n closed the book,placed it carefully on her nightstand and reached out to grab a thin sheet at the bottom of their feet and covered the young boy who slept well by her side.

«Good night,Cregan.Tomorrow there will be the sun,i promise you.»she whispered kissing his forehead and drifting to sleep too.

And for the first time,after so many years,he slept.After so many years,Cregan was sleeping peacefully with a thunderstorm.

On any day in the early summer,ten years later,Lady Y/n Stark of Winterfell was laying in the bed she shared with her Lord husband.

Wife and husband,that’s what her and Cregan had been for the past four years.But before pronouncing their vows in front of the Seven and their families,they had became the best of friends.

When did they start calling each other that way?When did they become friends?Could they find a precise moment when they had gone from being strangers to even best friends?Were they able to establish the exact moment when their bond changed?

No,they couldn’t.

Maybe it was the year after that fateful rainy night.Maybe it was the next month when Cregan had spent all of his moments and attention in Y/n presence,falling in love with her more and more.

Or maybe it had happened at the exact time their hands had touched,when Y/n had proposed to be together in that thunderstorm,to mark the point of change for their relationship.

They didn't know that though.Neither of them knew for sure.But they didn't even ask.They fell in love with each other before they got married and that was that mattered.There are bonds that are born before the interlocking of the hands and connections that are born before touching each other.It was just pretty to think that,all this time,there was some kind of invisible string that was tying them together.

Anyone who cared for Cregan had to understand that he needed a little looking after.Someone who could help him sleep,who reminded him that he was just human and that he could still a child sometimes.And Y/n understood that,she held him gently,far more gently that anyone ever did.She stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep at night,she stood next to him to greet the arrival of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and supported him in his decision to fight for the Dragon Queen.

All because she loved him more than anything and because he loved her.To love and to be loved was to rest.

Yet,now that Cregan was away,on the Wall of the great north with the young prince,Y/n couldn’t seem to find sleep.It was raining heavily outside,the long summer had arrived earlier that year and a violent storm was what welcomed it.

The pale rays of the moon filtered through the clouds,the wind was blowing against the windows,the lights of the lightning shaped the dark room she was in.

Cregan had ruined her,she thought to herself,ever since they got married and started to share the bed she couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t next to her,holding her in his arms,kissing her lips softly and whispering how much he loved her.But she knew that,with the war at their doorstep,he was busy with the young prince Jacaerys who came two weeks ago in ask for the help of the North.

Her husband was a man of honor,the Lord of Winterfell that never forget his oaths.

When a particular loud thunder broke through the quietness of the castle,Y/n got up from her bed.Taking the candle on the nightstand,she started walking down the dark corridor to reach her children chambers.Her sons,Rickon and Brandon,only four and two years old,looked exactly like their father:true men of the north but with their mother eyes and kind smile.

Just like their father they were scared of storms,it took her hours to put them to bed that night since the first drop of rain had hit the ground.They both reminded her the first time that she had spent with Cregan during one of those,curling up on her as she read them one of her books to help them sleep.

But that night was different,after two weeks of writing letters and longing,Cregan was finally home.As she quietly opened the door,the candle that Y/n was holding in her hand almost fell,when she saw her husband sitting on a chair in between the two beds where their sons seemed to sleep so soundly and well.

He was still wearing his dark fire coat and his long were wet,the tip of his nose red from the cold,while in his hands he was holding a old fairy tale book that they both knew very well.As if he had heard her behind the door,he smiled,and his face was like the sun.

He had came back as soon as he had heard the first sounds of the thunders,like a sailor bewitched by the melody of a siren voice.His sons were the first ones to greet him,running barefoot down the hallways to reach comfort in their father strong arms.

Cregan had been there before,his heart clenched in his chest as he dried the tears off their eyes and saw the fear on their little faces.But he knew what he had to do,unlike his father,he would always be there for help his children no matter what.

«The mermaid had waited all winter for her lover return,her voice guided him through the storm.»his voice was quiet and soft like a warm blanket«With the first lights of the new sun,he came back to her.»in his hands the hold book.

His oldest son yawned«But wasn’t he afraid of the storm?»Rickon asked,holding his teddy bear closer to his chest.

«He was.»Cregan nodded«But you know what is stronger than fear?»he whispered,noticing his younger son fast asleep.

Rickon shook his head,his eyes fighting to urge to close«What?»he chirped.

«Love.»his father simply answered«The idea of coming back to his lover was stronger than the fear of the storm.»Cregan stood up,caressing his son head.

«One day i want to love someone this much.Just like you love mama.»Rickon murmured sleepy,with a little smile on his face.

«And you will.»he promised«One day you will have someone that will help you overcome your fears and that will always call you back home when you are wondering too far.»he kissed both of his sons forehead.

Cregan was still a little nervous about storms,but that night he was finally back home as sun on water.Y/n reached for him and skimmed her hands over the light of him.

«I missed you.»she whispered on his lips,kissing him sweetly.

Cregan was holding her in his arms,gently caressing her hair,his forehead on hers«I saw the storm and i knew.»he smiled,trailing his lips on her chin and cheeks.

Y/n shivered,not only because his icy fingers were rubbing up and down her back,but because only her could understand the meaning of those words.The intimacy of having something only them could share with each other.

«So you came back early because of the storm?»she giggled as his beard tickled her beautiful face.

He smiled even more,tightening his grip on her smaller body«I came back because of you.Only you could have called me back home.»he whispered placing a kiss on her lips.

The smell of her hair,the taste of her mouth,the feeling of her skin seemed to have gotten inside of him or in the air all around him.She had become a physical necessity,not only to ease his fear,but to have someone to come back to.

She placed her head on his chest,listening to his heartbeat beating alongside hers.They stood there for a moment more,embracing each other,in the dark corridor.

«Do you hear it?»Y/n softly asked suddenly.

«Hear what?»Cregan voice was low.

«The sound of the rain.»she explained,closing her eyes and relaxing against his touch.

For a while they just listened to the incessant ticking of the rain,while a thousand fish continued to swim on the pages of their book.

But suddenly a flash illuminated the corridor,followed by the due thunder.

Y/n jolted,expecting her husband to do the same.

Yet this was not the case«Aren't you afraid of thunderstorms anymore?»she teased him.

«How can I be afraid of thunderstorms when I'm by your side?»he said,caressing her cheek lovingly.

«Tomorrow there will be the sun.»she smiled against him,brighter than any light.

She was right,after the storm there was always the warm weather and Y/n was the golden sun at the horizon.That one thing that gave him hope for a brighter future,the only one that could bring him back home.Because his sleepless nights are better with her than any nights could ever be alone.

[tumblingxelian]

MLB AU - Headshot (Virus Timeline)

Summary:

The careless flick of a yoyo in anger leads to a death, which sets of a daisy-chain of chaos that no one could hope to predict let alone control.

Prologue

Lila, bedecked in a cleaning lady disguise in her apartment, was caught somewhere between giddy satisfaction and paranoid dread as she skimmed the results of her latest play.

Things had gone beyond well when Ladybug & Chat Noir decided to help an Akuma toss the mayor out of office. Ordering Chloe to burst in with the press and make them look bad had been an inspired adaptation on her part. Really she'd never expected things to go that well.

Then it went side-ways and Ladybug caved Chloe's head in with her yoyo.

A simple "That's enough" and suddenly the blonde bimbos supposedly empty head was splattered across everyone's TV screen before those stupid Tsurugi robots could do anything. Now Tsurugi stocks were falling almost as fast as Ladybug's reputation in the polls!

Lila should be ecstatic, but the reality Ladybug might turn that same violence on her was now a real and genuine concern and for all that Chloe was a vacuous and obnoxious tool. Lila couldn't deny seeing her skull split open, her blood flow and her brain splatter across the floor hadn't been horrifying to behold.

But Lila was a practical girl, & once Chloe was healed she calmed right down and tried to regain control of the situation. Unfortunately that proved harder than she'd have liked.

Chloe had seemingly dropped her ear piece or was just too panicked to listen because she had let out a hysterical half scream, half shout, then practically vaulted over the press and took off running. & for all Chloe lacked swift mental faculties she made up for it in legs because the press lost her almost instantly.

Still, Lila could work with this, she was adaptable after all and would play the hand she was dealt, and Chloe’s parents had certainly given her some fine cards to play.

Andre had swooped in to try and look like a grief stricken father, while somehow weaving in a reference to his plans to become a director again. Only to get counter swooped by Audrey tearing into him over divorcing herself and Chloe. Both wanted their newly sympathetic tragedy doll and fortunately for Lila neither made themselves look like remotely functional parents.

Slagging each other off even hours after the public meltdowns had started, with every scrap of dirty laundry from over a decade of marriage aired for all to see, and no real mention of their missing daughter. To say that their shameful display, compounded with Chloe’s public death had spun public sympathy towards the blonde would be an understatement.

Lila had been quick to set up an online funding campaign, for Chloe's benefit of course.

Now if she could just find the blonde she'd have her little cash cow back in its barn and could move on to trying to figure out Gabriel and Ladybug's next move -

There was a thumping on her door, followed by a tired but trill, "Let me in Lila, I have had a day."

"Chloe!" Lila cheered.

Leaping from her seat and throwing open the door she began fussing, keeping her words small, flattering and subtly guiding the blonde on exactly what to think.

"Oh my dear, exceptional, wonderfully brave friend! I saw what that monster did to you! I've been trying to reach you and find you but I knew if you would go to anyone it would be your closest and most loyal friend so I stayed here, waiting, hoping you'd come back!" Managing Chloe was easy but she required constant elaboration for understanding anything more complicated than, ‘want grab now’.

Seeing Chloe looking around the apartment hallway furtively, Lila pulled the blonde into the apartment and her embrace which the blonde slowly returned without any of her usual energy or clumsy attempts at haughtiness.

Burying her face into Lila's neck Chloe murmured, "It's nice that someone... Cares..."

"Of course I care, Chloe. Even if the world turns against you I'm here for you and I always will be." The fact Chloe's online following went from a respectable seventy two thousand to several million with donors to match certainly helped.

"The emancipation campaign, that was you right? I don't recall us sharing bank details."

Lila was used to having to swiftly reorient her deceptions but Chloe usually required so little effort to manage she maybe said too much. "I did, after the horrible things your father said I thought you deserved some resources all your own. I know you have your mother-"

"No I don't, she won't remember my name by tomorrow," Chloe's hug grew firmer, tighter. "I need that money Lila, transfer it to my private account."

Squirming, she answered, "I thought I could manage it for you, it'd be so heavy- uh, Chloe, I know you had a hard- day, ah- tight!"

Chloe's hug was like a viper constricting her upper arms to her chest and Lila could barely breath as the girl whispered.

"I need that money, you'll send it to my account. Won't you, friend?"

Panicking and unable to get away Lila accented, "Of course, of course my dear friend!" A few haphazard presses on her Alliance ring and a projected image showing her changing the fundraiser details to Chloe's account filled the otherwise dark room.

Chloe's hold slowly loosened and she pulled back enough to kiss Lila on the cheek, once, twice and then pulling away she looked her over with… Lila couldn't quite describe it.

She was used to Chloe having a sort of hazy, twitchiness about her, like one might expect of a drugged up horse. But this new expression was somehow both strangely misty and yet all too focused for the Chloe she knew.

Stepping back Chloe nodded to herself and said, "I will be staying here until I sort out a new living situation." With that declared like it was a fact the blonde made her way to Lila's bedroom.

"I, of course you can stay over Chloe, but I only have one bed."

Chloe held the door and looked at her with half lidded eyes, "Haven't you ever read fanfiction?"

'Since when can you read?' A part of her wanted to ask, but out loud Lila answered honestly for once, "I don't really read fanfiction."

The dour look Chloe sent her was usually directed at anyone but Lila & was followed with her bedroom door slamming shut.

"That was the sound of you missing your shot, but I suppose educating you will pass the time and be almost as entertaining. Order some room service, this will take awhile."

Clapping her hands she answered. "Oh I am sure you have such wisdom to share, but don't you want to get your beauty sleep?" What a relief Chloe was back to having the attention span of a goldfish.

"I am too wired to sleep, too hungry to scheme and in desperate need of a distraction." Chloe plopped down on the lounge and snatched up Lila's laptop. "So help me de-stress one way or another, or... Go clean something. You are dressed for it and the view would be more pleasant than the conversation."

'Something's changed, a lot has changed, what the hell changed!?' Lila mind was frantic even as she smiled gamely and ordered a platter of her and Chloe's favorites as the blonde poured over the laptop.

'Chloe was never that obvious with her interest, she barely ever spoke coherently for that long and normally she'd drop everything and re-shift focus if all I did was give her a compliment and promise something nice!'

Biting her tongue, Lila smiled at the delivery person before carting the food back to the plush lounge where Chloe sat cross-legged and sharp-eyed. Grabbing at her plate of sushi, Chloe turned the lap-top around to show some kind of archive website.

'Maybe Ladybug finally gave her a brain?' Lila wondered.

"Now to your education, the first trope, there was only one bed!"

Lila sighed, she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up.

Chapter 1

Lila liked to think she was a patient person.

She wouldn't be much of a plotter if she was impatient now would she?

But after a night in disguise because Ladybug might come and crack her skull open, hours fretting over trying to get her plan to rob Gabriel back on track but meeting nothing but road-blocks and now seemingly losing control over the once malleable Chloe.

Lila was more than a little stressed.

Made worse by sitting through a multi-hour long lecture on fanfiction tropes and conventions, which under other circumstances might have been useful for the insights into Chloe's psyche. But this late at night and with so many other things on her mind, the girl's penchant for enemies to lovers, redemption and childhood friendships were like droplets of water bouncing off clay.

Still, she could have bore it if not for the hour-long lecture on pseudo biology that Chloe evidently was just reading from the author notes of her 'fanfiction' like it was a legitimate text book!

So Lila lost her patience, just a smidgen when Chloe said: "It's all quite realistic really."

"Chloe, a well educated and intelligent girl like you must know this kind of thing is, as your mother would say. Utterly ridiculous."

Chloe's glare sharpened and flickered to the big billboard TV screen outside where reruns of Chloe's injury and her parents' nine hour long break up were being played side by side. "My mother would call the rising of the sun utterly ridiculous if it reflected off her martini at the wrong angle and while I'm no doctor, the author is. They know more of what they are speaking of than you do, Lila."

Her mother was a bad avenue, Lila needed to readjust, "Well I'm not sure about that, I know more than a thing or two about medicine. You remember the massage I gave you-"

"Yes, yes," Chloe said with an airy wave, "You have very talented hands, that does not give you a PHD in genetic science and viruses like the author has."

It was 1-AM and Lila had just been dismissed and talked over by someone she had previously needed to coach through pronouncing democracy and lectured as though she were the ignorant one!

‘I’ve started blood feuds over less!’

Then a voice boomed in her mind, or maybe it had been there longer than that, Lila couldn't say.

Her Alliance ring hummed and soon all she knew were the words of the Monarch, of Gabriel Agreste.

"Such vexation and venom, my Lila I promise you the power to prove yourself as wise and put this fool in their place by putting their little theory to the test!"

If Lila were more aware she'd realize Gabriel’s plan barely addressed her anger, only doing so in the most roundabout way, as though he was just using her as a vessel for some other scheme.

But Lila couldn’t think about that, could not see or sense it.

She'd never been good at resisting Akumatization after all.

So all she heard was the promise of power & vindication.

Thus she answered as she always did, "Yes, my monarch!" Lila didn't hear Chloe cursing as she flung herself off the lounge and scittered out of sight as the transformation took hold. A myriad of colors suffused Lila as her Alliance ring pulsed with arcane power.

She sent a single sharp gesture towards her laptop and the magic washed over it like locusts descending upon a field and drew from it the words that began to float drift around her right hand, slowly infusing themselves into an orb of magic and the helix within.

"I'll encode this fool's DNA-Virus into every Alliance Ring on Earth and when it fails, you will finally see that whether it's fact or fiction, lie or truth, I am your one and only authority!"

The orb engulfed Lila's hand and shrunk down into her Alliance ring, pulsing with eldritch light she raised it high and the virus was multiplied and unleashed across the world!

Then Chloe leapt onto her back, tore the Alliance ring from her finger and hurled it through the apartment window. Lila's instinctive cry of, "Noooo!" was cut off when they both hit the floor and some distant part of her registered a car driving over the ring and breaking the connection.

The heady feeling brought on by the Butterflies presence began fading with an echoing chuckle.

Chloe turned her over, all fangs and claws and growls. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?" She dragged Lila's face close to hers and snarled, "I just got my brain back, and I am not letting you throw it away over something so utterly ridiculous!"

Muddy thoughts becoming clearer pieces fell into place too fast for her lips to stop, "It was Gabriel who made you..." Lila's mouth snapped shut as Chloe's eyes widened, pupils turned to pin-pricks as she violently convulsed above her before letting out a choked rasp, almost a sob.

"Gabriel... Of course... Of course it was him, it makes too much sense. The movie, the rings and robots, that day on the roof. He knew, he's always known how to twist the knife!"

Rolling with the punches, Lila answered, "I assumed you’d already figured it out if he flambeed your brain," her words came with a sort of cavalier shrug but as the pieces locked into place there was a cold, churning horror in her guts at the thought of him doing the same to her. Lila's mind was her everything if she'd been rendered to barely above a toddler like Chloe she wouldn't-

Lila cut that thought off before it could form as Chloe tightened her grip and growled, "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, what I want to know is how you knew."

A lie, even now Chloe wasn't a natural liar, even her stone-walling when Lila had tried to divert her attention from stories was blunt. The blonde was not a deceiver, that much at least remained true.

Still, Lila was flying blind as to what this new or old version of Chloe could do and with her heart thumping against her chest she decided something like honesty was the best policy.

"He used me like he used you Chloe. Why do you think those Scarlet Akuma were ready and waiting when I tried to have Marinette expelled?" She glanced away, "Not that it stopped him from throwing me away either." The bitter resentment in her tone was real enough and Chloe seemed willing to accept that much at least.

Slowly the blonde loosened her grip and lolled back up to simple kneel over Lila staring at the ceiling of the dim apartment room. As seconds drifted by Lila wanted to speak or at least get the blonde off of her but she was still feeling strangely fuzzy and flushed, her heart was racing but she couldn't bring herself to move.

She felt too hot for the cool night air.

Finally, Chloe worked through whatever it was that was holding her back and with gnashed teeth she shot to her feet, pulling Lila up with her like a rag doll and began absently brushing invisible lint off her shoulders.

"I suppose I should thank you, now I don't need to keep going in circles on whether it's Adrien or Felix who has what I need."

Without another word she turned and began marching for the door.

Confused and slightly at odds with the sudden loss of the other girls presence, Lila pursued, "What are we after?"

Chloe glanced back over her shoulder, expression flickering for a moment before a vicious sort of smirk was forced onto her lips, "Follow me and you'll find out soon enough. If not, well, you'll see once I'm done tearing Gabriel to shreds!"

The subtle growl inflecting her tone sent shivers down Lila's spine and the prospect of seeing Gabriel pay for using her and throwing her away was already tempting. The prospect he could never do to her what he'd evidently done to Chloe only sweetened the deal and was all the temptation she needed.

"Then lead on, I can't wait to see what you have for us~" God she hoped it was worth it.

"Trust me, it'll be better than anything Lady-bum and Chat-Chump could come up with, but first, we need to see an old not friend of mine."

Lila let Chloe drag her out of the apartment without even a coat, she felt warm enough as it was.

Chapter 2

Felix was not one who liked being woken suddenly, least of all by Duusu prodding at his cheek, but he grudgingly acceded to the Kwami and groaned, "What is it Duusu?"

"I sense two new presence, distantly familiar to me, and rippling with emotional intensity, young master."

"It's not Ladybug & Chat Noir is it?"

"No young master, nor any other Miraculous wielder I could name."

That ruled out his uncle and his human pet Nathalie, so Felix hoisted himself out of bed just in time for mother to push open his door, "My treasure, it seems we have guests, Chloe and a little friend of hers forced their way passed our security."

Felix snorted, "How much screaming was involved?"

His mother chuckled, "Less than you'd think, but enough to make the beginnings of a scene. It seems Chloe’s injury hasn't quenched that fiery personality."

"It'd take more than than a bucket of ice to douse a raging house fire I suppose," Felix slipped Duusu's Miraculous into his pajamas front pocket and the Kwami de-materialized as he strode down into the foyer where Chloe awaited with a faintly familiar redhead at her side.

'Lila wasn't it? Kagami and Adrien couldn't make heads or tails of her until recently, I suppose she's latched onto the last wealthy fool who will tolerate her.' Latched on was a rather fitting term for how the brunette was leaning against Chloe, an arm snaking through the blonde's and head on her shoulder.

Chloe meanwhile stood stiff as a board, a forced and mildly manic grin stretched on her features like it had been forced there by Botox as she greeted, "Felix, my dear lady Amilie, so sorry to wake you."

"Not sorry enough to wait till morning though," Felix snarked.

His mother rested a hand on his shoulder, "Not that we blame you dear, I imagine you had quite the fright yesterday, how are you now?"

A mechanical shrug as she met his eyes intensely, "As well as can be, this isn't the first time someone with magic powers decided to knock me around for some petty reason" She capped that off with a wave of her fingers as though sprinkling fairy dust on a gaping wound.

"Still," Lila cut in, "We felt it was best to get somewhere safer until something could be done about that wreck-loose Ladybug!"

"Well how flattering," His mother intoned generously. "But did you get your parents permission?" Mother, clever mother was looking for a way out that wouldn't be their fault.

Chloe strode forward, more strutted really, with the Lila girl whispering in her ear as she answered. "My parents are still tearing each other apart on live TV to the delight of the masses. I came here because when looking for security against super powers there's only so many places one can turn, Felix."

The pieces clicked into place as the night Felix had tried to cast from his memory flared to the forefront of his mind, Chloe had seen him in his Adrien guise transform and snap her out of existence!

He tried to fall into a defensive stance, Duusu's name on his lips, but Chloe had started moving before she finished speaking and snagged his front pocket. The expensive fabric couldn't hold up to her nails and was ripped asunder.

Lila flung herself bodily at his mother when she tried to intervene and sent them both to the floor. The manors security sentinels flaring to life in time to see Felix land a sharp blow across Chloe's face, but in his haste to get passed her he didn't see her roll with the motion. Turning the momentum into a devastating roundhouse kick that sent him crashing to the floor.

Felix watched helplessly as his mother tried and failed to catch Chloe's feet as the blonde pounced.

"Kwami, tell me your name!" She called, rolling and vaulting to her feet as Duusu answered the order, despite Felix's hasty calls for silence. The manors' guns flared to life, but they were too late as Chloe cried, "Duusu, transform moi!"

In a flash of ocean blues, pinks and blinding white, Chloe was transformed, her skin a dark blue, her frame taller and broader with her hair taking on a nearly stark white color. She was adorned in form fitting leggings and a sharp open collared top with a vibrant and half cape of feathers draped over her shoulder.

Chloe flicked open the fan and in a blur launched herself from the floor and across the hall with a howling, "Yeees!"

She struck down the first turret with a kick, crying out, "I am strong!"

Launching herself from the rear wall she rocketed towards the door and ripped apart the second turret, "Strong!"

She flipped through the air and cut the chandelier loose, forcing Felix to retreat backwards towards mother, while Lila watched in wicked glee as Chloe obliterated the last turret. "Strong again!"

Chloe landed before them, marble shattering beneath her feet and the last remnants of the turrets crumbling in her fingers.

Lila launched herself at the blonde and Chloe didn't even budge as Lila swung around her and snuggled up against the blonde with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, "That you are," she purred, "& so well dressed too, much better than the fop."

That drew a snort of amusement from the blonde as she came down from her high and locked her shining pink eyes on them; his mother stepped between Chloe and Felix hid the family signet ring behind his back.

"So," Chloe hummed, "That explains a lot," She held up her ring-ed hand and dread swallowed him whole even as his mother cried out, "Chloe, he's your friend!"

"My friend!?" She roared, "He snapped me out of existence, his friendship is as shiftless and unreliable as the rest of yours!"

"He saw the error of his ways, he undid it," his mother reasoned, desperately.

"Oh how convenient," Chloe rolled her eyes, "Because he was able to unbreak what he broke, all is forgiven apparently. Isn't that convenient Lila?"

The brunette giggled wickedly, "Convenient for some and not for others, a double standard one might say."

Chloe huffed, "I do say," the look she was sending them wasn't one of mere rage but one Felix recognized, seething jealousy, no doubt from the way his mother stood between him and death. He'd once relished in that distinction between them, now it might only be worsening his chances, but Felix couldn't bring himself to speak lest that dreaded snap ring out and be the last thing he heard.

Amilie fell to the floor, "Please, he's all I have," She continued despite the girl's scoff, "You aren't an evil person Chloe, there's no need for you to do this."

The blonde's fangs were gnashing, her fingers tightened, and then slackened with an aggrieved rolling of eyes. "You two really are pathetic, utterly pathetic," The scorn didn't ring true, her words sounding more aching than angered.

Lila nuzzled against Chloe, "They'd be more useful alive, so long as they keep their mouths shut."

"Hmm, I suppose," Chloe tilted her head and zeroed her gaze in on Felix again even as his mother hugged him close. "Keep this in mind going forward, if anyone finds out I have this," she motioned to the Miraculous on her lapel. "Then I will blame you.”

Her tone grew heavier, “I don't care if Kagami and Marinette somehow uncover and try to steal it, I will blame you. I don't care if Adrien figures it out I have it because his dad has almost all the others, I will blame you. I don't care if the magic stops working and everyone can see it's me. I. Will. Blame. You!"

She held her fingers up again, ready to snap, "& I promise, the fallout from that will hit your head Felix, long before it hits mine? Understood?"

He swallowed, but along with his mother nodded, "Understood."

She held a hand up to her ear, "Understood who-" She hummed. "Hmm, actually, what should I call myself? I need something beyond a queen, but Empress Peacock sounds stupid."

Lila was evidently quick on the up-take and suggested, "Imperatus, a term tying to the great emperors and empresses of Rome."

Chloe smirked and tapped the fan to her chin, "Oh I like that, Yes, Imperatus Peacock, that can work."

Finally, Felix found his voice and despite his mothers subtle beckoning said, "Chloe," he grimaced at the dual glare that met him and corrected,"… Imperatus, if you go to Gabriel with that he will just steal it."

Chloe let out a shriek of laughter, "Go to Gabriel!? Go to Hawk Moth who turned my brain into his personal playground until it was little better than play dough? No, I'm not going to give this to Gabriel. I am going to use it to make an army of Senitmonsters and have them rip that simpering, back-stabbing, wretch, limb from limb!"

Her voice echoed and resounded off the walls, the air around her suffused with energy before Chloe forcibly composed herself. With that she scooped Lila up in her arms and added, "but first, breakfast, I am famished!"

With that she leapt into the air and kicked her way through a window before leaping into the early morning light.

Felix flopped to the ground against his mother, his whole world turned upside down in mere moments, and only three words seemed fitting.

"What the hell?"

-

Duusu came back into being on a rooftop somewhere, the city was not yet awake even if their new holder was, stalking around both the Kwami and their newly minted manifestation.

Duusu looked over the new Sentimonster of rage and dread, it was a black and yellow creature, with red eyes, purple sclera, and a physical form akin to that of a gorilla but stretched too long and made too sharp. It was equipped with a massive jaw and subtle spikes along its hulking frame.

It was also barely thirty centimeters tall.

"Young Mistress," Duusu greeted politely, bringing the blonde to a stop as her jumbled emotions solidified behind several walls of pride and vexation.

"Ah yes, Duusu wasn't it? How do you take your meals?"

"I am partial to sweet and sour candies if it pleases you!"

The blonde nodded and pulled a small roll of sweet smelling breath mints from her purse, "I'll find you something higher quality later, Lila's apartment is swarming with reporters so we can't go back there and we need to work on making more Sentimonsters anyway."

That stopped Duusu from taking a second bite and gave time for the second mass of emotions to close the distance, bringing with her warm beverages and pre-wrapped snacks.

"Before you complain, the only thing open at this ungodly hour are vending machines," She passed a cringing Chloe her snacks and then leaned against the blonde. Breathing in her scent, Lila was sending waves of confusion and contentment in equal measure, along with a subtler mix of desire and greed.

"Where are your hands traveling?" Chloe intoned, not quite suspicious or amused but a secret third thing.

"Mine?" Lila crooned, letting them run over Chloe's chest, down her hips and snaking around her back, "Nowhere special, don't you trust me?"

Chloe scoffed, "No, I don't, it's what I like about you. I know what to expect."

There was a moment of stark shock running through Lila that was quickly engulfed as she nuzzled against the blonde’s neck, "Then this relationship might just last!" She purred.

Chloe's own emotions roiled, relief but not joy, control but not satisfaction, this was not love by any stretch. Duusu wanted to shake his head but held their tongue and let the little tit for tat continue.

"I recognize this one, it's... Smaller," Lila hummed, almost teasing as she refused to budge from where she had glued herself to Chloe's side.

"It is, but that can change, show her." Chloe's instructions were met with the Sentimonster letting out a tiny roar before slamming both fists against the roof, the force fed back into its frame and it swelled in size and strength.

"Oh it's a grower, not a shower, how clever!" Lila cheered.

"Ugh so vulgar, but yes, it's much better than that one Gabriel made me. I think you deserve a more fitting name no? Seeing as you'll be taking down a monarch, how about Recigider? Regina for short." The Sentimonster thumped fists against its chest and roared in approval. "Perfect, you'll be the one to lead my army on Gabriel's rancid little compound."

"Young Mistress," Duusu intoned gravely as they swallowed the last of their mint, "as much as I too wish to see the Monarch fall, I must warn you there are limits to this power."

"Limits? Since when?!" Chloe groused, rage and offense cloaked a bone deep fear.

"Since you do not have the Butterfly to help supply you with excess energies or trans-formative properties, the Sentimonsters will be purer and far more reliant on ‘us’ alone to work."

Chloe stared, blinking in a slow, uncomprehending manner before beckoning them to elaborate.

"Young Mistress, the variety and flexibility of my emotional manifestations was born from my union with the Butterfly. Without its powers, You will only create either weak Sentimonsters from minor emotions, or identical Senitmonsters, with perhaps slight variances based on your emotional state."

He could already see the wheels turning in her head and pressed on.

"What's more, a Sentimonster like this is akin to a familiar of myth, it directly connects to the Amok and to you. It draws a degree of vitality from you, that is what makes them such ideal protectors. But having too many can exhaust you. The strain can be lessened by using others as a basis for the Senitmonster but only if they keep the Amok and even then, there are limits..."

Chloe was gritting her teeth, rage bubbling inside her. Regicider began slamming its fists to the roof, roaring and swelling in size until Lila short-circuited Chloe's emotional episode with a kiss. Regina froze, as if Blue-Screening, Duusu had once heard it called. Chloe was not much better before shaking her head and taking several deep breaths, almost drinking in Lila's scent and... Not being soothed, but calmed at least.

Chloe pulled back, confused at her own actions even while Lila hung on equally confused but lost in her own hazy thoughts for the moment. ‘How queer,’ the Kwami mused.

Swallowing, Chloe looked to Duusu, "If that's true, how am I meant to take down Gabriel when he has all the other Miraculous? & don't tell me to team up with Ladybug and Chat Noir, that ship sailed!"

"Well Young Mistress, I believe the saying is, the right tool for the right job, You already have a fine war hammer-"

"But you need something sneakier first," Lila purred, "Think of it, something that could slip into Gabriel's little Parisian Palace and pilfer every power he has." A wicked smirk spread on her face, fear and revelry and ambition all mingling into a sordid soup. "Imagine making him as scared and confused as he must have made you and watching him twist in the wind, then finally crushing him."

Anger stoked and pride nettled, Chloe nodded, "Let's hope you're Akuma is as sneaky as you then." She reluctantly pulled away from Lila and marched over to her Sentimonster, the creature obediently handed back the Peacock Miraculous.

As Chloe fitted the jewelry to her jacket she added, “By the way, Duusu. Did Adrien know of his fathers schemes?”

“No, my former holders did not, as far as I know, inform him of their plans.”

Chloe frowned but nodded, “Very well then I guess I’ll leave him be, frankly he should be thanking me once all this is over. For now though. Duusu, transform moi!”

& Duusu was once again suffused with their new handler.

-

Even as magical power filled her form and enhanced her frame, Chloe felt tired.

She’d been sleeping terribly for weeks and since waking up from her untimely death hadn't slept at all.

A part of her was afraid to sleep, to relax enough to let go of even some of the simmering rage keeping her up. Afraid to wake up and see her mind returned to that hazy miasma from which fits of awareness had been all too brief. Maybe if she destroyed Gabriel she’d feel better, safer.

A quiet part of Chloe doubted it.

As the bursting light faded Lila was now visible to her again but in two layers, emotions and physically.

Technically three if the faint sense of cocoa powder on coffee was indeed Lila's scent but Chloe couldn't be sure she wasn't imagining that. & frankly she didn’t have the where with all to deal with the implications of that if it were true. The emotional spectrum was already too much to parse. A blend of desire and confusion, fear and hunger, cold withdrawal and almost primal intensity all at war with one another.

It was so different to how Aimilie’s love and Felix's fear registered so clearly and so strongly, almost overwhelming. In truth Chloe couldn't have killed them if she tried. 'Which just makes Gabriel being able to do what he's done even worse!' That righteous indignation clicked her mind back into gear and she sent her partner in crime a smirk, a single feather offered to her like a ring.

"Let's make a monster together~"

Lila faux giggled behind her hand, cheeks surprisingly vibrant as she revealed a fox-tail styled pendant, “So forward, but who could resist such a charming offer,” she purred.

With a sharp flick of her wrist, Chloe loosed the feather into the necklace. The amulet pulsed and shone, Chloe could feel it in real time as Lila's predatory hunger blended with cautious wariness sprung from her form and were shaped into the form of a looming fox.

Easily as large as a horse with one then several and then one again tails. Its colors were darker than Chloe thought foxes came in, a closer match to Lila's almost maroon hair and its features while vulpine had an unmistakably off lilt to them that belied an almost human structure and with it, intelligence.

"Oh you are beautiful, to be expected from our work," Lila cooed, stroking the beasts head which welcomed it with a pleased rumble.

"Refined looking certainly," Chloe squinted as she tried to interpret the waves of sensations as facts but Lila did the heavy lifting for her here as she tapped the necklace and the Senitmonsters began to blend into the surroundings until it was almost invisible, save if one knew where to look.

"Oh that's perfect, did you have a name in mind?" She asked as Lila trotted over to her, pleased as punch with herself.

"Vulpin-X, the hunter and thief of game in the king's forest."

"Very fitting," Chloe took Lila's hand and twirled the girl around, "And large enough to carry us wherever we want to go before we send them after our prey."

That peeked the other girl's interest, "What about Regina Regicider the first? She's rather... big," Lila leaned against her as she said that, appreciative hands running across Chloe's Miraculous enhanced shoulders.

"Regina, release," Chloe ordered and was obeyed.

The Sentimonster opened its mighty maw and unleashed a wave of golden energy into the sky, shrinking as they did so back to pocket sized where-upon it clambered up her arm to rest on her shoulder.

Lila chuckled devilishly, nuzzling Chloe's neck, "We make a perfect team, Gabriel won't know what hit him."

Chloe relished for a moment in the touch she had starved for from anyone for so long, even as a part of her tuned out how her own body felt like it should be responding more, differently. Her efforts to parse the blend of bafflement, lust, primal greed and genuine joy in Lila's mind was no simpler and she finally gave up as the Miraculous began to beep.

Regina obediently snatched it up and hid the magical item in its maw of steel.

Duusu reappeared and welcomed the remainder of Chloe's breath mints with a smile, while Chloe and Lila mounted up on Vulpin-X's back and Regina sat atop the foxes head alongside Duusu. As they took off across the roof-tops the pair discussed the beginnings of their plan.

"We can't go back to your apartment, it's been swarmed by my parents goons and reporters."

"Well we can't be too close to Agreste Manor, what if he senses the Peacock?"

"So we need somewhere to hide out."

"While Vulpin-X scopes things out."

Chloe smirked, "I know a place."

-

The fact that place was school and Lila was adorably huffy about it was icing on the cake, though it hardly stopped the brunette from leaning against Chloe as they both drifted off to sleep at their desk well before classes began.

Regina was safely hidden away out of sight in Chloe's bag and dozing like its master and Duusu, while Vulpin-X took to the streets of Paris, nothing more than a ghostly shimmer as it slowly made its way to Agreste manor as Paris began to wake on the dawn of a new day, in more ways than one.

Chapter 3

Caline Bustier arrived at work late, but she was hardly the only one feeling under the weather in the school alone. She’d arrived to find Olga fiddling with the keys and dabbing at her sweaty forehead along with several other exhausted looking staff members.

Caline could easily attribute her own symptoms to pregnancy and the utterly nightmarish day she’d had. For everyone else though… Well it was either a rapid and sudden flu on-set or maybe she was nott the only one miserably stressed by what happened the day before.

One of her students, yes one who had broken her heart a little, but still a child was struck down in a bloody display and Caline could, would never forget that horrific sight. But also the responsible one’s panicked and childish words, "I didn't- she was just- I thought- this was an accident!" said between sobs as her partner dragged away.

Chloe had never looked so terrified as when she was restored and Ladybug had never sounded so young and Caline... Caline didn't know what to do about any of it. Frankly it was all she could do to pull herself from her wife's cool and soothing presence because the kids might need her.

'If this sudden flu hasn't kept everyone at home,' she thought, passing by another teacher bundled up in three coats and shivering still.

Mind swirling as she tried to think about what to say about what transpired in the mayors office, everything came to a grinding halt as Caline opened the door to her classroom, "Chloe?" The name escaped her lips before she could stop herself at the spectacle before her.

Chloe and Lila of all people bundled up at one of the front desks and dozing atop one another.

Caline was frozen in place, genuine joy and dreadful uncertainty side by side inside her mind. Memories of trying to reach Chloe and failing, of what inspired her worry and the ensuing disappointment running wild. Let alone her own shame at being duped by the machinations of a fifteen year old in Lila and yet-

'They came here to hide, they are children, this is a classroom and... and I am their teacher.'

Resolve affirmed, Bustier stepped inside and despite her efforts to be quiet, Chloe shot up like a bullet, her bag rustling at her feet while Lila let out a keening whine and dragged herself up Chloe's body only half awake.

"Chloe I-" Bustier froze as Chloe's hand shot out.

The blonde stared her down intently, gaze strangely focused and familiar as she said, "Madame, I am glad to see you back," as if by wrote. "Yesterday's spectacle was... Unwarranted. I have not been myself for some time, and while it would have behooved you to notice, it was out of your hands." She swallowed, "I think it best that we try and run out the rest of this year in peace, no?"

Chloe offered Bustier her hand, with only a subtle sign of trepidation.

Bustier took it but did not shake, instead cradling Chloe's hands in her own.

"I appreciate you saying that Chloe and I just want to say how glad I am you're healed. I hope that we can both try for something better than merely passing the rest of this semester by, but any step forward we both take is a good one in my reckoning. Even if we stumble."

Chloe was watching her intently, her gaze flickered to her bag and back again before she squeezed back and nodded, "Well, let's see what the morning brings."

"Let's," Rising to her full height, Bustier added, "Now, can I fetch you girls something to drink?"

-

Adrien was exhausted, stressed and miserable, a far cry from radiant, carefree or dreamy.

He'd been lucky to have gotten any sleep the night before, not that it had lasted, anxiety and dreadful dreams of crimson red forcing him awake before even his father. Suffice to say, Adrien had opted against giving the man a pretext to keep him in and slipped out early.

Every day away from home might be his last after all.

Lingering anxieties about London, his fathers ever increasing ambitions and near mania were running in the back of his mind. But taking lead over them were the events of the day prior.

He knew, he finally knew Ladybug's true identity and it was Marinette, his girlfriend. He should be over the moon, it was everything he could ever want. To know that the person she’d been pining for so long had evidently been him? By all rights he should be ecstatic.

Save that he found out because a careless act of anger led to her accidentally killing someone. To that act being seen by millions. To her spiraling into a panicked tempest of guilt and dread, frantically trying to undo it and revealing herself to him in the process.

Adrien wasn't even sure Marinette realized she did it, he would have told her had he the presence of mind, would have confessed himself if he didn't fear it would only make things worse. Instead, after assuring himself Chloe survived he had to focus all his energy on keeping Marinette from fragmenting.

Hours spent cajoling, comforting and oh so carefully making sure she never had the chance to simply renounce guardianship to himself or Alya paid off with Marinette's memory still being intact if not her will. The Ladybug earrings now rested with Alya, convinced her friend had merely slipped up due to stress and sharing Chat’s view that Marinette should not, and frankly could not, surrender guardianship given how much knowledge would be lost.

He’d passed by the bakery as Chat Noir on the way into school and seen Marinette sluggishly being guided around by Alya. He could have gone in as Chat, but that would stress her. He could have gone by as Adrien, save he wouldn’t be able to explain himself.

So instead, he just left, and hoped he could see her soon.

Mind returning to the moment as Adrien walked up the schools steps, he remembered his first day, of all the expectations and hopes which had somehow both been fulfilled and others that had been left hollow as his mind drifted to Chloe.

His childhood friend turned... Not friend.

A girl who had been a constant companion until she wasn't, who his mental image of had shifted and broken over and over again across a single school year. Someone who he knew could be cruel, but also could never forget having stayed when his family fell apart and kept his head above water.

He had tried to find her, to call her, but it had amounted to nothing and if he had gotten through what would he have said, have done? He couldn't answer that question and a part of Adrien hoped he wouldn't need to find the answer just yet.

But it never rained when it could pour and as Adrien opened the door to class his feet felt like anvils as he saw Chloe and Lila of all people sitting on their desk. Lila practically snuggling up to a mildly perturbed looking Chloe as they both nursed warm drinks.

Both of them were also now staring at him intently, Lila’s expression one of mock amusement he was sure obscured annoyance. While Chloe’s expression fluttered wildly through an array of emotions he could barely place before she sculled her mug and returned it with a firm clink to the desk.

'Say something. There's nothing to say. Do something. There's nothing to do. I can't just do nothing!'

He tried to open his mouth but it tasted like bile and no sounds came out.

‘The girl I love killed her.’

It was an accident, he knew it was an accident, anyone with a brain could see it was an accident!

He looked at Chloe again, the image of her blonde hair matted and stained in crimson and gore-

Adrien looked away, a full body shudder overtaking him as he tried to quell the guilt and shame.

‘Did I cause it? I was upset with Chloe, I wanted her to just go away, to stop all this. Did my bad luck break the Ladybug’s good luck?’ Did he somehow will it to happen so he could consign his memory of her to a peaceful grave in his mind as he had done to his own mother?

Adrien tried to meet her gaze again, the memory of the day before, of the break, and the blood, and-

“Adrien,” Chloe finally said, her tone was… firm in the way cracking ice was hard and it forced him to look at her, as much as he could stand to.

“Chloe, I’m-”

She interrupted him, her words halting and stiff. “I apologize, for trying to get you thrown out of school, that was miss-spent effort at best.”

With that she met his gaze for a moment and then turned away, not huffy exactly, not even angry, not much of anything. Or more, too many things she barely seemed to be keeping under her skin as she glared a hole in the wall.

It was all so mundane and just… Strange that it actually buoyed him, for just a moment, long enough to finally gather his thoughts from the miasma of his mind.

“Consider it water under the bridge, things like that can come and go between us easily enough. I'm just glad you were healed after," he wanted to say accident, but settled on, "what happened yesterday."

She took his words and seemed to roll them around in her head before scoffing, "I seem to have a talent for drawing ire from powerful people."

The splatter of blood and brain was back, it all came rushing back to squash that small kernel of mundane relief. He wanted to say something, anything to quench the fire he could practically feel coming on, but he wasn’t Chat Noir right now. Who could ramble and amble and chatter through even the worst of circumstances.

He was just Adrien and he couldn’t find his voice.

So he retreated to his desk, faintly aware of Lila whispering In Chloe’s ear, lips trailing along tanned skin.

Chloe remained silent

-

Marinette kept her head down as she walked and tried to keep her ears closed. Alya, sweet, loyal Alya kept up a good amount of chatter on the most inane topics from their home-work, to the bakery’s goods. Even with her phone blowing up and doubtless endless drama and rage on the Ladyblog forums-

Alya bumped her hip against Marinette’s, “Don’t get lost in your own head now girl.”

Marinette swallowed, “Yeah, you’re right, I can’t lose focus for even a second, ow, ow, sorry!” Alya released her ear.

“Not what I said and going completely against what we discussed last night,” Alya pulled her into an over the shoulder hug. “You need to let yourself rest and re-calibrate.”

Marinette saw a flicker of bloody red out of the corner of her eyes and dug her hands deeper into her pockets leaning against Alya all the more, her words low.

“That’s easier said than done, especially with where we’re going, I mean, just imagine what everyone will be thinking and Chloe might be there! I mean I hope she’s OK, she is OK, I know she is but at the same time-”

“You’re not sure how to handle seeing her? I can’t say I get it like you did, but I get it. But hey she’s apparently still in the wind, so that’s… Something?” Alya ventured.

“Its worse!” She hissed. “At least when Chloe’s in front of me I’d know she was healed and could do something,” Maybe even say something but Marinette never got passed. I am sorry I killed you, I keep seeing it replay every time I close my eyes and feel really bad but it was an accident and you just make me so mad and I forgot I had super powers for a second and it was an accident but-

Alya gave her a companionable shake again and Marinette forced herself back into the moment as they marched up the steps and towards their classroom. Before they could go in however they were ambushed by Zoe and Sabrina, both girls looking as dreadful as Marinette felt.

Sabrina was flushed and pink and looked, frankly exhausted and like she’d been crying on and off. Ribs constricted against her chest in guilt. Zoe looked marginally better, her jacket was done up however and she looked pale and weary.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here,” Zoe murmured, “Are you OK? You look-” she caught herself and said “Under the weather,” while Sabrina fidgeted nervously at her side, be-speckled gaze drifting towards their class door and back again.

Alya spoke for her, “I don’t think a lot of us got much sleep last night, add in a cold and helping me cool down from ‘everything’ on the forums last night and we’re both kind of out of it.”

Marinette looked between the pair and filed in the blanks, “Chloe’s here isn’t she?”

Sabrina nodded, a choked sound escaping her lips, “She came here to hide even though she hates school. This is all my fault.”

Zoe wrapped an arm around the girl and pulled her closer, “Its not your fault everything’s a mess.”

‘Its my fault and I need to fix it, I just don’t know how!’

Every time she had tried to fix Chloe it blew up in her face, her mother, the macaroons, Queen Bee, the party, the movie! Did some of those even count? Marinette didn’t know anymore!

Perhaps seeing her spiral, Alya cut in, “Hiding, did something else happen? I mean, we saw your parents meltdown, are you OK?”

Zoe shrugged, “Its been… Enlightening. I really thought Andre was different than my mother, that he was just a poor guy she brow-beat into following her every whim.”

The, ‘& Chloe was spoiled as a result’ went unsaid as Zoe continued.

“But after seeing them tear into each other last night…” she bit her lip and shook her head, “Andre can look after himself. It seems like he’s good at that,” bitterness practically wafted off her words. “Trying to get him to find his recently revived daughter though? That was a no go and I gave up,” she shrugged and otioned at the redhead to her side. “I found Sabrina when looking for Chloe and we decided to pool our resources.”

Sabrina was hugging herself even tighter at those words, murmuring, “We should have kept looking.”

“Hey, we didn’t know she’d go to her of all people-”

“Well we should have-”

Marinette needed to stop the fight, “Well you tried,” her voice was cracking. “That’s the important thing, the effort spent, I’m sure she will appreciate that, probably, maybe. Definitely!” She stressed with as much enthusiasm as she could manage.

Both girls were looking at her strangely now, but even then their minds seemed elsewhere.

Marinette had to see inside that room, now.

She ducked around the pair and peaked inside only to start slipping under under her own discombobulation save for Alya grabbing her backpack. She pulled her back but not before Marientte caught sight of Adrien who looked so sullen it made her ill with dread. & more, saw Chloe, a rictus glare on her lips as she glared a hole in the wall. While snuggled up at her side like a viper coiling around its prey was Lila.

“Lila’s back?!” She nearly shrieked but kept it low, just a little, almost silent scream. “Wasn’t she expelled? Was she involved in what happened yesterday with the robots?” Could this all somehow be Lila’s fault, that would be nice, but Marinette wasn’t that lucky.

Sabrina and Zoe shared a mutual shrug before the redhead answered, “I don’t know, maybe, she’s done nothing but make things worse since she showed up and she still has her claws in Chloe.”

“Not for nothing,” Alya intoned gently, “but they were working together.”

“You don’t get it!” Sabrina rasped out, only stilling when Zoe clasped her shoulders and murmured something to the flushed face girl, who took several deep breaths. “You don’t though, I know, I know how people see Chloe, I know how… Intense she can be. But she never used to be… That intense. Not until Lila showed up.”

Zoe rolled her shoulders, “Apparently the closet was a new arrangement?”

The Non sequitur threw Marinette but Sabrina was building steam again, “We used to hang out, watch shows, play games, we were friends and things were actually getting even better for awhile. But then everything started going wrong, and this year turned into a nightmare.” Sabrina started sobbing again and basically collapsed against Zoe who looked equal parts worried, oddly used to it and put out.

Patting her back, Zoe added, “Look, I know you two don’t have any reason to like her but… I got a second chance at this school and well. If Chloe’s not run back to our parents yet, I think she might see what I do now. That mom’s not worth fighting for, her father can’t be trusted and that neither of them are people to imitate.”

Alya hummed, arms folded, “Well they did make asses of themselves, still are last time I saw the news, even Chloe could see that. But I’m not sure what you want us to do about it, we aren’t exactly Chloe’s favorite people.”

“We know,” Zoe assured, “But you two are brilliant and we thought you could maybe help us come up with a plan? I want to just go up to her and say like. Things can change, you can change, we can actually be sisters and not just our mothers imitators.”

Sabrina let out a hiccup, “I just want to tell her I’m glad she’s OK, but I don’t know if she’ll want to see me and… And…”

“You’re scared she’ll reject you,” Marinette murmured, entirely lost on what to feel. Her mind working in a dozen different directions as she tried to process all that and somehow not keep circling back tot he bloody affair that inspired it.

Zoe nodded, “There is that and with Lila there….I knew girls like her back in New York, even if Chloe sees how empty our parents are that liar still has her claws in my sister and will try and keep Chloe all to herself.”

Thing clicked into place, a solution, a plan, a something to do that could make things better!

Marinette grabbed both girls wrists and pulled them close, “So what you need is to get Chloe alone where Lila can’t trick her is what I’m hearing.” Both nodded uncertainty while Alya tapped her on the shoulder.

“Girl were we not just discussing how overwhelmed you’ve been lately, plus you and Chloe... There’s history there,” she finished uncomfortably.

Yes, history, years of bullying, resentment and a murder, but that was the past and Ladybug and not Marinette and this was something she could do, could fix, that maybe could make things better!

“Don’t worry Alya, this is-”

Madame Bustiers cheery voice cut off her thought., “Good morning girls,” Their teacher intoned gently as she stepped out of the door tot heir class.

“Madame,” Marinette’s voice may have cracked, “You’re back! I mean of course you’re back, I just mean its very good you’re back, I should ave brought you a cupcake!” Was she rambling it felt like she was rambling.

Bustier gently dabbed at her flushed brow and smiled serenely, “That’s quite all right Marinette, your enthusiasm is more than enough.” She looked to Zoe, “Ms Lee, I believe your class will begin soon, I promise to look after everyone in class, so you can rest easy and focus on learning.”

Zoe’s anxious expression and manner bled away like it was never there, “Thank you Madame,” she rested a hand On Serena’s shoulder, “I’ll be back when lunch starts.” Accepting a second clingy hug from the girl that both seemed unhappy to break, Zoe raced down the halls.

Bustier looked over them and gently patted Sabrina’s hair, “Alya would you mind showing Sabrina to her chair? I need to speak with Marinette for a moment.”

‘I’ve been had! Done-so! She’s knows!’ Marinette’s anxious mind screamed as she went stiff as a board, electricity short-circuiting her brain matter.

“Sure thing Madame, I assume you want to talk to Marinette about our returning redhead and recently resurrected blonde?”

Madame Bustier merely smiled placidly, an ever so subtle nod indicating Alya’s accurate assessment as she let the two girls pass her by before resting a gentle hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

‘This is about Chloe, who you killed, by accident but-’

“Marrinete, given everything that’s happened over… Frankly too long of a time, I understand if you will be uncomfortable with some of your classmates.” She gave Marinette’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I just want to assure you that Chloe insisted she intends to run out the rest of the school year in peace and that there should be no… Outside interference in our classes proper running and that. But if you have a problem bring it to me straight away, I will handle it, I promise.”

‘Oh, it was that kind of talk,’ Marinette’s anxious energy fled her body as swiftly as it arrived and she nearly felt like doubling over, her whole brain and body feeling fuzzy and tingly at the same time.

“Marinette are you feeling well?” Bustier asked urgently.

Perking up, Marinette grinned, “Just tired Madame and don’t worry I can handle Chloe,” Perhaps too well, or too terribly or not at all really.

Bustier squeezed her shoulder again, “You are a student its not your responsibility to handle these matters, leave it to me and just focus on yourself all right? You aren’t responsible for fixing every little thing.” She chuckled, “Leave some work for the rest of us OK?”

Marientte wasn’t sure if she could fix anything right now, but she did know that Bustier was wrong about one thing. It was Marinette’s job to fix things. She just needed to figure out how.

Still, she smiled warmly and answered, “Thank you Madam, I will keep that in mind.” -

Chloe’s sunglasses were a long time favored accessory.

Sturdy but stylish, they could be lowered strategically to protect from the bright lights obviously but also to convey everything from scorn to thoughtfulness if placed juuuust right. They also were large and dark enough that it was hard to tell exactly where she was looking.

An excellent way to avoid dealing with head-ache inducing eye contact, stare down a plunging neck-line but most of all, very helpful for eyeing Alya’s new accessories. The brunette gently guided Sabrina, Chloe felt her throat tighten at the sight but said nothing as Cesair led her towards one of the chairs at the back of the room. Chloe instead turned to the door, watching for Marinette’s arrival.

When the girl finally stepped through into class Chloe felt something dreadful un-clench in her chest at the sight of Marinette bereft her ear rings. Even as her nails dug into the desk as the flashing of a yoyo rolled through her memory, the last sound she heard before a crack and squelching of flesh and-

Chloe kept it bottled up and held back. Marinette and Ladybug could-

Lila was whispering in her ear.

“With your new power imagine all we can do to here,” she purred.

Chloe’s body vibrated at the other girls touch, sound and scent, but she kept herself still as ice, easy given her temperature felt like it was sinking with every moment even as something inside her roiled and ached.

Lila was still purring some seductive promise of petty revenge in her ear and Chloe stilled the brunette with a low rumble from her throat. Turning her attention ever so briefly to Lila she traced her fingers over her necklace and saw the Agreste Manor interior through her Sentimonster’s eyes.

“Don’t you think we have more important things to deal with than schoolyard feuds?” Lila pouted but quickly turned her attention back to the Amok with devilish glee.

Madame Bustier was beginning her lesson and Chloe forced herself to take a calming breath.

‘Her little cure did fix whatever Gabriel did to me, even if it was an accident that deserves a temporary reprieve from our little war.’ Once Gabriel was dealt with however Chloe knew there could only be a few ends to a war like theirs.

Treaty, surrender or mutually assured destruction.

It remained to be seen which they’d would pick.

NOTES:

I decided to finally say screw it and just publish it here and see what happens. There's a none virus version somewhere in my head too, but I kept bouncing between the cracky virus idea and the none virus version and didn't wanna write both and someone can use the framework from the virus AU for a none Virus one anyway.

[pookalicious-hq]

gold rush... isagi yoichi x reader

| pt. 5... | prev | next | masterlist |

synopsis: isagi yoichi can't help but see the girl at his bus stop as a good omen tags/tws: meet-cute , swearing, realistic isagi (this guy doesn't pull any girls tbh), mc eye colour is mentioned but it's part of the plot guys word count: 3.5k

When it came to her, every thought was categorized in never-ending rows of information. Her eye colour, her speed, her laughter, the way she calculated space on the field—it all slotted into place, neatly organized in Isagi Yoichi’s mind. But there was one thing that didn’t fit. One thing that gnawed at him the longer they played.

How the hell was Miyakazi (Y/n) not ranked first in this camp?

He glanced at her again, his breath coming out in quick, controlled bursts as he sprinted back into position. She was already moving, her eyes scanning the field with that same sharpness that made his own field vision feel almost clumsy in comparison. He was used to seeing everything on the field, used to predicting moves, breaking down plays like clockwork. But with (Y/n), it was like she was always three steps ahead of him, seeing the game unfold with a clarity that left his abilities feeling dull in contrast. She saw passing lanes he couldn’t even imagine, split-second openings that made defenders look like they were moving in slow motion.

And yet… she was ranked under him.

It didn’t make sense. Not when she played like this.

Yoichi repositioned himself, feeling the shift in the game as they entered the second half. The girls were up 4-2, and even though his team was still very much in it, they were constantly scrambling to keep pace with (Y/n)’s leadership. His field vision normally allowed him to control the flow of a match, but she was manipulating the space around her in a way he had never encountered. Every time she touched the ball, it was like the entire field bent to her will. He’d seen top-tier strikers, players who controlled the game, but this was different. She wasn’t just dominating with her skill—she was choreographing the entire match, warping the structure of the game itself.

His eyes narrowed, locking onto her as she shifted in and out of passing lanes, calculating her next move with frightening precision. His mind raced to figure out how she was doing it, but each time, his vision felt like it was falling short. Normally, he could dissect his opponents' movements, but with her, it felt like he was always a beat behind.

The teams both had some substitutions. Reo was off, and now it was his turn to mark her. Great, he thought, glancing over at Chirigi. The two of them would have to switch off on her, keep her from running the show. But even as he steeled himself for the challenge, Isagi could feel the weight of the task sinking in.

They weren’t just up against another player—they were up against a strategist. A version of seeing the game that wasn’t just reactive like his, but preemptive. His play style allowed him to predict the next play; hers allowed her to see the entire match unfold before it even began. She saw the game before it happened.

(Y/n) got the ball again, and the instant she did, Yoichi darted toward her, trying to close the space between them. She shifted, just enough to dodge him, her eyes flicking up to scan the field.

Their eyes met, and through them, he was able to understand that she knew she would win this exchange. Yoichi knew what she was going to do next—he could feel it in his bones, could see the path she was setting up. But before he could cut her off, she was gone, the ball snapping off her foot and threading through the smallest of openings.

Damn , he cursed, barely able to keep up. She’s way faster than me.

Before he could catch his breath, (Y/n) had already moved. It was like she could phase through defenders, her speed so seamless that it didn’t even feel like she was sprinting—it felt like she was cutting through space, already anticipating the next moment. Her body shifted effortlessly, her footwork light, and with a flick of her heel, she passed the ball to a teammate, almost mocking his attempt to stop her.

Yoichi was forced to pivot, chasing after her as she advanced up the field. He finally caught up to her, and in the brief pause between plays, he couldn’t help but shoot her a look.

"You’re fast," he muttered, breath still laboured.

(Y/n) didn’t even glance his way, eyes still on the game. "You’re slow."

The words weren’t meant to be cruel—they were just a fact. A truth she’d already accepted, and now he had to as well. 

With the little breath he had left, Yoichi huffed out a laugh. However, he soon regretted the act as she took off in the direction of the current play. 

She was really… something. A forced to be fucking reconed with of course. He couldn’t tell if it was envy or admiration, but his already growing feelings sent a burst into his chest. 

19 minutes left in the second half. He needed to win this. 

He sprinted, eyes darting between Otsuka Yua and (Y/n). Sure enough, as if their minds were in sync, Yua’s feet moved, passing the ball back with a sharp flick toward her captain, who was already in motion.

Yoichi glanced to his left, catching Chigiri’s eye. They didn’t need words to understand what needed to happen. Stealing the ball from (Y/n) outright was a fool’s errand, especially when she was in control like this. Their only hope was to contain her. Box her in, limit her options, and pray she didn’t slip through.

Chigiri moved first, his explosive speed cutting across the field as he zeroed in on her. Yoichi mirrored him, angling his run to trap her between them.

She barely spared them a glance, her gaze fixed on the field ahead, calculating and cold as she shifted the ball between her feet. Yoichi could feel his heart pounding in his chest, sweat dripping down his back, but he kept his focus locked on her movements.

She wasn’t going to make this easy.

As he closed in, Yoichi saw her muscles tense, saw the way she shifted her weight to her left foot—a split-second signal that she was about to pivot. His eyes flickered to Chigiri, and he knew the redhead had caught the same sign.

They converged, closing the space around her like a trap.

But (Y/n) didn’t flinch. Instead, with a grace that made Yoichi’s stomach twist with frustration, she shifted the ball backward, dragging it with the sole of her foot just out of their reach. In one fluid motion, she feinted left, sending Chigiri lunging, before darting right.

Yoichi cursed under his breath, scrambling to keep up, but she was already moving, slipping past their attempted containment like water through their fingers.

"Shit," Chigiri growled as he pivoted back, trying to catch up.

Yoichi knew they couldn’t keep letting her make them look like amateurs. He dug deep, pushing his legs harder to catch up to her before she could orchestrate another play.

“Don’t let her breathe!” Yoichi shouted at Chigiri, both of them racing to cut her off again before she could break through the defensive line.

But in the back of his mind, a voice nagged at him—a voice that was equal parts awe and frustration. How the hell was she not ranked first? Whatever, maybe he’d ask her later, now he just needed to stop her from plowing the field away.

Chigiri managed to cut her off before Isagi could, positioning himself directly in front of her, his speed barely enough to keep pace with her relentless forward push. (Y/n) stood there, the ball still at her feet, and for a moment, she looked like she was going to do what she always did—pass. Her eyes flicked to the right, toward Yua, the perfect opening.

Isagi tensed, waiting for her to make the familiar move.

But then... she hesitated.

It was so brief, so subtle, that anyone else might have missed it. But not Isagi. That split-second of hesitation as (Y/n)'s gaze lingered on the goal as if she were thinking about something different. Something she'd never done.

She wanted to shoot, Yoichi realized, his heart pounding. She’s going for it herself.

And before either he or Chigiri could react, she shifted. Her body twisted in the slightest motion, and then—boom.

She shot.

The ball cut through the air like lightning, heading straight for the bottom corner of the net. But Isagi was already moving, instincts and reflexes taking over. He lunged, his body stretching out as he reached for the shot with everything he had.

His foot made contact.

The ball ricocheted off, deflected.

Isagi stumbled slightly from the effort, but he’d done it—he’d blocked it. And in that moment, the game turned. His eyes flicked to Chigiri, and without wasting a second, they sprang into action, the counterattack already forming in his mind (though she probably already thought of it before the ball hit the ground).

She knew it was coming.

After the game, Coach Watanabe would pull her aside. She could already feel her stare—those dark, piercing eyes that seemed to strip away every layer of pretence, cutting into her like a blade. (Y/n) could almost hear her voice, low and steady, asking the one question she had been dreading.

Why did you hesitate?

The cold air bit at her flushed skin, and the weight of her mistake pressed down like a physical burden.

And the worst part was, she didn’t have an answer.

Her mind replayed the moment with a relentless clarity, the scene etched into her brain as if it were burned there. The ball had felt solid beneath her foot, a perfect connection as she controlled it. Chigiri had been in front of her, close enough for her to see the slight tightening in his muscles, the tension in his legs as he prepared to cut off her path. She could hear his laboured breaths, feel the heat radiating off him as they both hovered on the edge of action.

From behind, she had felt Isagi closing in, his shadow practically breathing down her neck. Her heartbeat had pounded in her ears, faster, faster, until it drowned out everything else.

Yua is open. Pass.

The thought had been right there, as clear as day. Yua was in position, waiting. Passing was the obvious choice. It was what she always did—find the space, set up her teammates, let them take the shot.

They’re efficient. They score.

But something had flickered inside her—a hesitation, brief but potent enough to throw her off balance. She had wanted to take the shot herself. For once, she wanted to be the one to finish it. To prove herself. But her body didn’t move fast enough, the decision snagging in her mind like a tangle of threads.

In that split second of uncertainty, everything had slipped through her fingers. She hadn’t passed, and she hadn’t shot.

The window had slammed shut.

Isagi had blocked her shot, and within seconds, he and Chigiri had torn down the field in a flash of red and blue, launching a counterattack that felt like a gut punch. The sight of Isagi’s cleats striking the ball, the net rippling with his goal—it had felt like someone had poured ice down her spine. Her missed opportunity had given him the opening. Her mistake had led to his success.

Her stomach churned, nausea mixing with anger as the weight of the moment settled in her bones. The sting of failure clung to her skin like sweat, cold and inescapable. The air around her felt heavy, almost suffocating, thick with the tension of the game’s end. She could feel the unspoken disappointment hanging in the air, as real as the turf beneath her feet.

Why couldn’t she make a choice? Her jaw clenched, frustration bubbling up with every breath. Passing had been the safe option, the smart option. But shooting— shooting was what she needed to do if she wanted to rise. If she wanted to surpass Isagi if she wanted to be more than just another player.

But now?

Now she had nothing. No goal. No assist. Just the hollow ache in her chest as she watched Isagi Yoichi walk off the field with a victory she had practically handed him.

She swallowed hard, the frustration burning a path down her throat. It sat heavy in her chest, simmering and unresolved, but it wouldn’t consume her. Next time, she told herself. Next time, she wouldn’t hesitate.

(Y/n) stood BY the sideline, heart pounding, her chest tight with a mix of frustration and disappointment. She could hear the cheers echoing around her, a cacophony of voices celebrating Isagi's goal—their goal. She felt like an outsider now, a spectator watching from a distance as his teammates revelled in the moment. The whistle blew, and she braced herself for what she knew was coming.

"Tetsuya Minato in. Miyakazi (Y/n) out."

The words felt like a punch to the gut. She turned from the field, her pulse quickening as she saw Coach Watanabe striding toward her, determination in her step. It was as if she could feel the weight of the impending conversation hanging in the air, thick and heavy.

As Mina jogged onto the field, (Y/n) caught sidelong glances from her teammates. Some were congratulatory, others laden with concern. They all knew the situation—the hesitation that had cost them momentum. She forced herself to meet their gazes, trying to project confidence, even as her insides twisted with uncertainty.

Anger simmered beneath her skin, not at the swap, but at herself. How could she have hesitated? In this moment, no one hated (Y/n) more than she loathed herself. Yet, you probably wouldn’t be able to guess that, as her team looked to their captain walking off the field; they only saw a blank expression and a tight smile.

She willed her features into a mask of calm, tucking away the turmoil roiling inside her. The cheers surrounding her felt distant, like echoes from another world. All she could focus on was the sting of disappointment, threatening to unravel the facade she had built around her reputation. She forced herself to appear unbothered as she approached the bench. Deep down, though, every cheer for Isagi cut deeper, reminding her of her missed opportunity.

“Good job, Cap” Mina called as he took her place, the excitement in her voice a sharp contrast to the knot in her stomach.

She managed a smile, but it felt hollow. She turned her attention to the game, determined to keep her head in it, even as frustration clawed at her. She wouldn’t show her teammates the turmoil brewing inside; they needed to see their captain steady, not shaken.

"(Y/n)," Coach Watanabe said, her voice steady yet firm as she beckoned her to the side. She followed Watanabe, the ground feeling unsteady beneath her feet. “Let’s replay.”

“Sure,” she replied, voice strained.

Once they were a few paces away, the coach crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “What happened out there?” Her tone was calm, but (Y/n) could sense the undercurrent of concern running through it.

She swallowed hard, searching for the right words. “I—”

“You hesitated,” Watanabe interrupted, her gaze sharp as a knife, cutting through the tension. “You went against your function. You’re a midfielder, not a striker. Your job is to control the tempo, to set up plays, not take unnecessary risks.”

(Y/n) felt her cheeks flush, warmth creeping up her neck like a rising tide, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration boiling beneath the surface. The taste of iron filled her mouth, a bitter reminder of the moment she had let slip through her fingers. “I know what I am. I just… I wanted to try something different. I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what?” Coach Watanabe pressed, her voice wasn't mocking, only steady and firm. “That you could single-handedly change the game? You’re part of a team. We play together, not as individuals. Your strength lies in your vision, your ability to read the game, not in taking on that kind of pressure.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth, ready to defend herself, but the words died on her lips. Watanabe was right. She had let the moment get to her, allowed her ambition to cloud her judgment like a fog rolling in over a quiet sea. “I just thought… maybe I could surprise them.”

Coach Watanabe let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping as if carrying the weight of the team on them. “I appreciate your drive, but this isn’t about individual glory. It’s about the team. You’re still contributing from the bench, even if you’re not on the field. And right now, we need to regroup. They’re playing without you.”

The words felt like a cold splash of water, jolting (Y/n) back to reality. A wave of disappointment washed over her, and she nodded, the weight of her coach's words settling like a thick fog in her mind. “I understand.”

“Good,” she said, a hint of encouragement creeping into her tone, softening the edges of her earlier reprimand. “Just remember: you can shoot, you can pass, do whatever. I expect 100% commitment for anything, especially from you.”

With that, she turned away, leaving (Y/n) standing on the sideline, feeling both deflated and strangely empowered. She watched as her teammates moved around the field, their focus shifting back to the match, the cheers rising again as they pressed forward, trying to turn the tide.

She inhaled deeply, the scent of sweat and grass filling her lungs. She could hear the rhythmic thud of the ball against cleats, the cheers of her teammates blending into a cacophony of support. Even though she was off the field, she felt the energy buzzing around her, igniting a spark within.

The score was still 4-3, and there was around 8 minutes left. Even if she was on the bench now, she was still part of this team, and she would make sure that her presence was felt.

It seemed as if right away they had taken advantage of her absence. 

From the bench, (Y/n)'s gaze locked onto the field, her pulse still elevated from the earlier play. It wasn’t like they couldn’t function without her—the team was adaptable—but without her controlling the tempo, they shifted to a more defensive style, closing ranks, holding their ground. A flicker of frustration sparked in her chest, but she swallowed it down. She could still help.

“Mina, Kunimi! Keep shape” she shouted, her voice cutting through the noise of the match. Her teammates responded, tightening their formation, pushing the opposing team-wide, forcing them to rethink their strategy. The air crackled with tension, each movement calculated, each pass weighted with precision.

Her eyes darted to the other side, tracking Isagi’s movements. It was obvious now. He was more open , exploiting the gaps in their defence, capitalizing on the fact that without her, the midfield didn’t quite have the same bite. He was pushing forward, more aggressively than before.

She narrowed her gaze, her eyes studying him. Isagi wasn’t just playing the game—he was dissecting it, reading the defence like an open book, setting up the next move before her team even realized they needed to react. He was different here , more confident, commanding, as if the field gave him a whole new identity.

Her instincts kicked in. She could see what Isagi saw—the weaknesses in their defence, the open spaces he could slip through if they weren’t careful. He was trying to disappear, moving through the blind spots, ghosting between players, waiting for the moment to strike.

“Watch your blind spots!” she yelled, her voice sharp, eyes locked on Isagi’s subtle movements. Her team shifted, closing the gaps, trying to keep up with his elusive footwork. He was patient, waiting for the perfect moment.

Then the ball moved to Nagi.

(Y/n)’s heartbeat quickened. She could sense the pressure building, the way her teammates tensed, ready for the challenge. “Box him!” she called out, directing the defence to press in. If they could trap Nagi, they could break the play.

The defence pressed hard, and one of her teammates intercepted the pass from Nagi, breaking the flow of the opposing team. The momentum shifted, and they surged toward the goal, moving with speed and purpose.

Her attention flickered back to Isagi. He was a different person on the field. Normally, she knew him as awkward, even a bit dorky, with that shy smile and those soft, unassuming glances. But here… here he was something else. Commanding. His presence was like gravity, pulling the game toward him, orchestrating every move with ruthless precision. It was unsettling, but at the same time, she understood it.

Her pulse thudded in her ears as she watched the game unfold. They were all here to represent Japan for a reason, and Isagi was proving exactly why. Even from the bench, she could sense his growing influence on the field, his presence becoming more dangerous with every passing second.

The strength of her gaze tracked him as he drifted closer to Otoya, positioning himself perfectly, waiting for the right moment. He was patient, calculating, like a hunter lying in wait. Otoya weaved through their defence, agile and slippery, until he spotted the opening. In a flash, he sent the ball spiralling back to Isagi.

There it was. The pass she had been dreading.

(Y/n)’s breath hitched. She could see Isagi's path and the space he’d carve through their defence. If only she was out there to stop him. Her chest tightened, frustration bubbling beneath her skin, but she shoved it down. Now wasn’t the time for regrets—she needed to analyze.

Isagi was in full control. He pivoted sharply, his touch light but deliberate as he gathered the ball. With one quick glance, he scanned the field, taking in every angle, every gap, every player out of position. (Y/n) could see the wheels turning in his mind, and the way he read the game was terrifying. He wasn’t the fastest or the strongest, but his vision was unmatched. He could predict the flow of play, manipulate the defense into creating the spaces he wanted.

Her heart raced as she followed his movements. He was moving through layers of their defence, slipping between players, using their hesitation against them. Every step he took was calculated, each fake-out drawing defenders out of position. It was like watching someone orchestrate a symphony, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next.

"Close him down!" she found herself shouting, even though it was already too late. Isagi was free.

He angled his body, shifting his weight just enough to keep the defenders guessing. Then, with a swift cut to the left, he exploded forward. Two of her teammates lunged to block him, but he didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch. A quick give-and-go with Otoya and Isagi was clear, his path to goal wide open.

(Y/n) could practically feel the tension crackling through the air as he lined up his shot. He didn’t need to power it in—instead, his foot met the ball with a precision that seemed almost effortless. The ball arced beautifully, sailing just beyond the keeper’s fingertips, hitting the back of the net with a sharp, definitive snap.

4-4.

Her stomach twisted as she watched Isagi celebrate, his teammates swarming him, the mixture of cheers and groans blending into a dissonant hum. He was a completely different person out here. That awkwardness she associated with him was gone, replaced by a sharp-edged confidence, an almost predatory focus that had taken command of the game.

If only she had been out there.

But for now, all she could do was watch—and she found every second of it repulsing.

a/n: sorry for the late updates besties... here ya go <3

taglist: @sarahforever

[heartofafiend]

In gods we trust - Xavier - Keeper of Time, The Unwavering End

He remembered the birth of the stars above the seas and the soils of the earth created for gods, and then inhabited by clay creations of his brothers. 

He saw them receive the gift of life, of breath, of red rivers that flowed under their skin, and most important, of the fire behind their gaze, psyche - the soul. Something that made them similar to gods, even if their bodies were too fragile to resonate with it, to discover its potential. 

At the beginning of the age of humans he was keeping his distance, not because he wasn’t interested, but because the way they seemed back then was too raw, too brutal. They were lost, and he could never fully understand why. His path as a god was always clear to him, his duties a path he had chosen himself, for them the world seemed too much. 

With the passage, and time he himself provided, they changed, grew, evolved. They were sharper now, more aware, and so they noticed him amidst the pantheon of gods that were living alongside them, some of them even ruling over their existence. 

He didn’t pay attention to it at first, it was just a temporary worship. He wasn’t wrong but it took way longer than he anticipated. 

His temples were towering over the cities that called him their patron. Bright, white marbles and gold idols decorating the interior, not with obscene crudnes some gods adored, but balance. They were not screaming “Fear me as my power has no bound”, they were merely whispering “I was, am, and will be”. 

He never understood what drew those people to him, why they bowed their heads, and why they showered him with gifts. He learned to stop refusing, but instead of riches and gems, he wanted their creation, words, their written stories. 

The stories the people spun made him smile, even in his long existence he couldn’t predict creativity will be the flower that blooms in the minds of mortals. 

Libraries and schools soon dominated the cities, leaving enough space for the art of combat to be present but not dominant. He heard their prayers and even protected them when he could. Always standing by the side of those wronged. 

He was called many names back then. Xavier The Bringer of Light, The Righteous Protector, Keeper of Time.

They started calling him The Harbinger of Death, The Unwavering End after it happened. 

On one of the visits he met a woman he swore stole a part of his heart with just one look. Time had come for even him to fall under the spell so many feared, many more adored. He was happy, he really was. Only believing he was providing the same for the lover he had. 

Their bond was sacred, pure, full of fire that was never meant to dim. Fire that should live forever. 

Fates had different plans for them. They saw no mercy, they felt no remorse, nor would ever listen to the pleas of gods. 

A war broke out fueled by greed of humans and other gods. It caused the destruction of the city she was in. His light, his sunshine. 

Enemies managed to leave a cut on his back as he turned, running like he never did before. Hearing her scream for help pushed him to her like the moon drawing the tide in, yet it was not enough. The Time didn’t have enough time to save the one thing he cherished the most. 

His beloved died because he was not quick enough. 

And that broke him, right there and then everything around him slowed. All the pain, all the blame, all the anger pierced him worse than any weapon could. He held her, amidst the shouts, fire and blood. It wasn’t long, he didn’t cry, not then, but when he stood up, the light in his eyes was gone. 

Everything else, he still remembers, but doesn’t dare to recall. 

He killed not only mortals but the gods that were behind the war, his brothers and sisters. He didn’t hear the cries of pain, when he twisted his blade, not yet killing, but damaging. There was justice in what he did. In his eyes, her death was excruciating and that torment will always stay with him.

He withdrew from mortals completely after that. Prayers of his name left unanswered. 

He tried bargaining with other gods, tried threatening them, but once a mortal is gone, their soul passes on, for some rebirth awaits, others would never get that chance. And she was one of the latter.  

His temples crumbled, the tapestries with his sigils turned into dust, his name spoken rare and by few, until it almost was forgotten.

It was late in spring in the mortal realm when he heard a prayer. Soft voice he almost took for sands of time sliding on the glass. It was a long time since he actually heard a prayer that long. 

Whatever it was, he didn’t care. 

The next day, the same sound broke the calmness of his home. Then the next, and the day after. 

It was something else that made him visit the old corners he didn’t think of for a long time, not the prayer - he told himself this white lie. 

The overgrown ruins of his temple were the source of the disturbance in the silence he closed himself in. The vines were thick here, it was a feat to even get past them. He admired the determination, all but futile, whoever it was, should have chosen other gods. 

Moonlight was falling through the canopies of the trees that called this place their home, columns lost their white in exchange for lush greens of moss and ivy splattered with whites of chamomiles. He passed the broken remains of what once was the golden gate into the building, never once bothering with putting on a spell to keep himself hidden. 

There in the middle half of his statue remained, a hand dusted and greyed even in the light from above stood all but presentable to be looked upon, let alone pray. Yet there she was, kneeling on the grass, eyes closed, face turned to the moonlight, where in the past was the carving of his face.

She looked over her shoulder, surprised, but not like she saw a god that she was praying to, but more like she didn’t suspect anyone to know this place. He felt his eyes widen. Such calmness radiating from her that it reached him and he swore if not for who he was now, another part of his heart was ready to crumble. But he held it better, tighter in himself. 

She didn’t recognize him, of course she didn’t, offering a polite smile, and going back to the prayer, this time, in silence. Maybe not to disturb someone else. 

Against his better judgment he came closer, kneeling near but not enough to seem rude. Kneeling before his own crumbling marble was something he didn’t think would happen. 

He stayed there, not saying a word, too scared to listen carefully to her prayer, looking in wonder at the figure beside him. It was not her, yet the feeling was too familiar to him, this time he didn’t want to let it in. Wiser than that. 

It was the fifth night they met in the ruins, he still didn't acknowledge her prayers, never asked, they just spoke briefly and she prayed. With the devotion that took him aback, not ever realizing he was right beside her.

He decided to speak when he saw a small plate, the smell of sweetness more prominent when he stepped closer, what a fool he was at that moment.

“The statues don’t need offerings, and the god you seek is not here” a soft tone he himself forgot he had, too long in the silence of his own mind. 

She laughed with a breathy sound, shaking her head. 

“I think the god would not like them even if he was here, but I hope you do.“ 

His breath caught, and a fool twice in the same night he became when he decided to listen to her prayers. 

The previous ones were sweet, all of them were. She didn’t ask for anything, just rumbled about the old stories she heard, thankful for the time she could spend with her close ones. It was warming, just like her smile, just like her voice that made his psyche calm. 

This prayer from today was different. Mournful. No questions, no wishes. Soft goodbyes. His eyes opened at that, just in time as she was already standing up.

Were those meetings that gave him the silent comfort, disappearing? 

The times he dozed off, just to see her there still praying when he woke up, her scarf draped over him, the finger to her lips to make him quiet, eyes scolding him as he tried to speak louder in his own temple, were those things going to slip away? 

A bruise on her arm and leg, not accidental from the shape, were showing from under the summer’s fabric of her dress that he just noticed. He grabbed her wrist before he stopped himself. 

She was a star which light he wanted to bask under, he knew he shouldn’t, but his heart decided already.

This time, he knew better.

He will not lose another part of his soul. 

Our daily usual schedule of drabbles is interrupted (again) by a quick little thing.

Rafayel's card got fished out of the sea of pulls. Yet the idea of godly LI's remained

(/ω＼)

This one got me thinking Chronos from Greek( once again )but the primordial version more than the titan mythos. Then we have the jolly duality of a god that somehow is more familiar with Kali, the feared and loved aspect, that is not only reserved for her, it just feels right in the context of Xavier.

Still not sure about the whole set of this, it is a first meeting only kind of scenario.

And as usual this is meant to be reader implied. If someone ever wonders why I don't lean heavy into description of what he sees when looking at her.

Also the first her is MC (rip).

Proofread by @negatywka and @sparrowfleet

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 67 Hotel Posting

So it was predicted, so it came to pass. We have our hotel fight, dear void... and not much else this week.

Rough TL of Editor's Notes:

First Page: チヒロ死亡の報せを信じていた昼彦… [Chihiro shibo no hose wo shinjite ita Hiruhiko...] "Hiruhiko, who believed the news of Chihiro's death..." Last Page: 復習の道を征くチヒロ退路はなく、ただ突き進むのみ [fukushuu no michi wo yuku Chihiro tairo hanaku, tada tsuki susumu no mi.] "Chihiro walks the path of revenge with no way to retreat; he can only push forward."

I just want to pat myself on the back for being able to understand most of the chapter this week in Japanese compared to usual. Hokazono-sensei went easy on us and everyone spoke in a standard Tokyo dialect for the most part with no obscure kanji. Hooray for me.

Chihiro and Hiruhiko

Too bad he couldn't just die here and spare us the trouble.

Well, it happened. We got Hiruhiko learning to fight in a way that once again deliberately compliments and contrasts Chihiro at the same time. He has no master but "freedom" (lol) and is going to become a true menace from sheer talent apparently. He's already good enough to take down the master of a sword style so... hm. Hope Chihiro's stint practicing with the Masumi paid off. Hiruhiko being able to beat Sengoku here felt a little BS, but the elevator door opening to reveal the severed head was so cool that I forgive it.

Hiruhiko did take Kuguri's words to heart even though he seemed flippant from Kuguri's point of view. He's all about sensing the right flow and not copying from something he's seen and had explained to him like Chihiro is, though. Different kinds of instinct are on display and about to clash. Which one will come out on top this time? Gotta wait until next week to find out! Not surprised if it's Hiruhiko getting the one-up on Chihiro this time so they're tied in score. Chihiro's not feeling quite ready to fight using the Iai White Purity style yet while his personal menace is raring to go with whatever he's cooked up.

Plus he's got a hostage to protect and all.

Chihiro and Iori

[yume self-insert character status intensifies]

Just a little bit of conversation between these two to crush our hearts a smidge more before shit hits the fan. Iori and Chihiro could not be more different in life experience despite the similarities of their status as kids of famous (probable) war criminals. So of course Iori gets a bit down while she's musing that Chihiro's never had a chance to be normal. And...

Don't mind the shattering sound, that's just my heart breaking for Chihiro all over again.

THIS POOR GUY. He wants a normal life so bad, even if he wouldn't choose to change a thing he's done. He just wants to rest and worry about what to make for dinner instead of drenching himself in blood... but he'll see his path through to the end. He can't go back, as much as he yearns to. Because his father's gone and he's already well on the path to hell.

I think this is why Iori ultimately chose to have her memories sealed again. After seeing the carnage Chihiro causes and has to live with on a near-daily basis, she wants to cling to the normalcy she's known. Especially after the memories that returned last chapter were deeply unpleasant. Iori's not a coward or weak; she's truly an ordinary person thrust into an incredibly dangerous and depressing world. I think she will be forced to keep her memories for the story to go forward but how that happens is anyone's guess. Hopefully it doesn't involve harming the Masumi.

If Iori does keep her memories she will become much like Chihiro in that she lost her dad and was forced into a cruel world through traumatic events. Right now, a point is being made that Chihiro can't ever go back to Iori's world. He's too much of a sinner in his mind. Will Iori be forced to share the same fate as Chihiro, doomed to be chased while her father is alive? Will she also find herself on the path of revenge? Or will the Masumi finish the seal in time to help her out? Somehow I doubt it (Kuguri's still MIA but on the hunt, after all).

At any rate, I was definitely surprised by Iori's choice to return to a peaceful life because most stories will come up with a reason for the character to stay in the new world. The whole point of offering the choice is usually to show their resolve and establish their motivation. So for Iori to turn it down could mean a few things.

She's going to be forced to keep them anyway. Whether it's the seal not working, being left incomplete, or some other reason, she could be forced to carry the burden against her wishes. I think this is the most plausible outcome.

Iori will end up deciding to keep her memories after all. Chihiro and Hiruhiko's fight could change her mind somehow, or maybe Chihiro's words about it being better to live with the truth will come back. So basically just a delayed answer to The Call to show us her resolve has been fortified.

The memories are resealed but she's still under observation/being chased. I think it's unlikely for her to exit the story and go back to being a normal girl, but it could happen. She's had too much attention and build-up to simply be allowed to go back to school in my opinion. Unless it's to further explore the choice that Chihiro said he couldn't make.

No matter what happens, I love that Chihiro gave Iori the choice with no implications on what she should choose. He's still the same kindhearted guy thrust into a violent world he's not at all built for.

Also, just one more thing...

Sleep is for everyone else.

Yeah. Chihiro's got his foot on the gas pedal and will not ease up on himself one bit. He's going to break sooner or later. Who will be there to help put him back together? Hm...

Alright. Cut a rant and will just wait for next week to see what happens. I'm going a bit stir-crazy but that's just what happens when following a weekly manga sometimes. Hopefully next week is explosive enough to make the wait to see other characters again a bit more bearable. In the meantime, have a good week and give yourself a hug if you need one, kind void.

[maiden-of-the-waters]

Her Backstory

//Not proofread, and I used google translate for the Chinese, please forgive any spelling errors

@tunadunanana I did involve your Birdie at the end, though I tried to keep it vague enough to allow everything to make sense 😁//

The maiden of the waters, Bèiké as she’s been famously nicknamed, simply came into being one day. She does not know When, or Why, or by Who’s Will did she come to be or why she gained consciousness.

But she did and instantly knew that she was the personification of the world’s waters, from the ocean to the lakes, from the streams to the rivers, even the rain being held by the clouds in the Heavens.

Predictably, this force attracted the attention of many a dragon, storm deity and celestial, feeling the power in the world shift. They worried what someone with such power would be capable of if left unattended. And sought the opinion of the great and merciful Jade Emperor and his infinite Wisdom, and His beloved Concubine, the serene and merciful Lady Mazu, who held dominion over the world’s Seas and Oceans.

The Lady Mazu saw that even personified, she was able to command and sooth the water maiden’s fear, and convince her to flow with serenity once more. And seeing as this didn’t affect her role as the Goddess of the Seas, was satisfied. She turned to her royal husband and asked for an unprecedented favor, one that shocked everyone.

(More under the cut to save room)

The Maiden of the waters was beautiful and - when soothed of her anger and fear - serene and tranquil. And seeing that she had no parents, Mazu decided she wanted to be the ultimate mother of the Seas, and asked her Husband to recognize the Maiden as not just her daughter, but their daughter.

The Jade Emperor, in his wisdom and understanding, both saw the opportunity this afforded him as the ruler of the heavens, having the ocean itself as his recognized child, but also the risks it could carry, as the ocean and storms could be unpredictable, and this Maiden was the personification of that. But having her close as a family member allowed the celestials to better keep a watch over her. And at this point, having already learned their lesson of being too lax with a certain Stone Monkey, knew better than to let such a power go unattended.

So he agreed, and the Maiden of the Waters was given the virtuous title; Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ (銀珍珠公主) ((silver pearl princess)) and was officially made his and the Lady Mazu’s Adopted Daughter. Soon after she was given the nickname Bèiké (貝殼) ((Seashell)) by her New mother. And since then, that is what she called herself.

Despite the initial worries and suspicions, Bèiké proved herself to be a filial and attentive daughter. Honoring both her new father and mother with all the affection and respect their titles and status demanded. Both The Jade Emperor and the Lady Mazu were increasingly satisfied with the Princess. She enriched her mother’s palace with all the treasures the waters that the world created and the halls were filled with the serene music of oceans.

If the lady Mazu’s palace was beautiful before, it was absolutely radiant now and the Lady couldn’t be happier.

They also found joy and amusement in their new Daughters romantic heart and her love of love stories, poems, arts and songs. She loved the idea of love and would often surround herself with such things, and passionately collect and listen to stories and plays about star-crossed lovers, gentle tales of two people finding one another, weeping when hearing the tragic love of the Chang-e and her Hou-Yi. Or even her new Half Sister, the Weaver Maiden, Zhinü (织女) and her lover, Niulang (牛郎), and even went out of her way to ensure the Double Seventh Festival, when they are allowed to meet once a year across the Milky Way was never covered by a rain cloud.

She was overjoyed when her new brothers gifted her Love Birds who sang the most beautiful melodies, she was over the moon when her new sisters came to her with books they had somehow obtained of hero’s going and winning the heart of the princess, or brave soldiers saving the damsels in distress who then found their happily ever after. She would often speak with them in the secret of her rooms about their own ideas for love stories and fantasies of handsome and powerful men to come and sweep them away.

She loved love and looked forward to the day when she would find her beloved and have a family of her own. Going so far as to daydream in her royal mother’s presence about how filial her future children would be and how she’d make sure they honored their grandmother and grandfather as well.

However, one thing that both the Jade Emperor and the Lady Mazu didn’t account for was the absolute connection Bèiké had to the worlds water, and this Earth Bound connection drove her to frequently return to the waters of the mortal world to reconnect with her element. They even found it was impossible to force her to stay in heaven, as she would simply dissolve into a mist and rain back onto earth where she would reform. Seemingly without her conscious consent.

This raised another concern within the heart of the Jade Emperor as he remembered his sister; the goddess Yao Ji (瑶姬). And the mother of his infamous nephew, Erlang Shen. Both he and the Lady Mazu were able to have dominion over the oceans and seas by Claiming Bèikè as their daughter. However, if she were to fall in love, and marry, her husband would gain that control as well. And after seeing how his sister acted in the mortal world, combined with the fact there were times The Jade Emperor couldn’t control Bèiké…

And the fact their the Silver Pearl Princess was a known romantic whom many a celestial were already looking towards as a potential bride and wife…that worry only grew.

He brought this Concern to the Lady Mazu, who agreed his worry was valid, and together, they came up with a plan.

————-

Sealing her Heart

————-

When Bèiké returned to her Mother’s side, bringing gifts to honor her mother and father once more, she was brought instead brought to a grand banquet.

At this time, it had been a year since her Adoption, and her royal parents saw it fit to celebrate it as her Birthday, throwing a feast and celebrating her entrance into the royal family. In which everyone was invited to honor the Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ and make merry! It was a beautiful time and it’s said that the oceans and seas glowed that night with magnificent colors. Bèiké, who normally was satisfied with the quiet tranquility that came with being by herself, allowed herself to get swept up in the celebrations that were held in her name. Thanking her royal parents for honoring her in such a prestigious event.

Afterwards, when she normally would’ve retired to her rooms with the attendants she was given as a Royal Princess to wind down from the night and settle her mind, she was surprised to find herself summoned to her fathers rooms. Even more surprised when she arrived to find her mother there as well.

The Jade Emperor bid her to take a seat and celebrate with him as the Lady Mazu in a more private, family celebration. The Jade Emperor has ordered a special tea to be created for his filial daughter as a reward for her loyalty and attentiveness. She bowed and gave her thanks for her father’s efforts to make her such a thoughtful and special gift. She loved the teas of the palace. They helped settle her heart and mind even on the most chaotic of days.

She toasted her parents and drank the tea her Royal father gave to her, feeling even more honored when her mother poured it herself instead of having an attendant pour it.

It was delicious, a flowery aroma with a perfect mixture of a sweet and tart flavor, unlike anything she had tasted before. It was a most refreshing drink. She finished the cup at her mother’s behest and her father smiled and bid her to have another. And so she did.

However, as the second cup was finished, a wave of exhaustion washed over her, the room spun. She voiced her weariness to her royal parents, and they simply soothed her worries. Letting her know it was simply a side effect of the tea.

As she collapsed, she was still aware of what was happening within her body. What that Tea - No, what that… potion, was doing to her.

It traveled through her body and to her heart. Bèiké, for all she was the personification of the world’s waters, had a Human Heart you see. She could Feel Happiness, Sadness, Joy, Anger, Rage, Hatred, Amusement, Jealousy, Sympathy, Empathy, Fear and Love.

No one ever knew how, when, or why the Personified Waters that was the Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ possessed a Human Heart, but she did.

She felt the Potion wrap around her heart and begin to infuse within it, sealing something within her that she wouldn’t fully understand until later.

She awoke the next morning feeling the same, but knowing that something about her had changed on a fundamental level.

She found she had lost all interest in her romantic poems and plays… the stories that once held her undivided attention now barely touched her fascination…

She no longer held in interest in marriage, she no longer held an interest in making a family or finding her forever love… her romantic heart was gone, replaced with the cool and unattached feeling of indifference.

She found she still loved her family, her loyalty and attentiveness to her royal mother and father remained unchanged and attending to them gave her the same feeling of joy and satisfaction as before. She even loved her siblings the same despite the minimal awkwardness that they all usually shared, interacting with her as an adopted sibling.

She still loved the love birds she was gifted, she still enjoyed the passion behind the music that was played… but she no longer felt the urge to go out and obtain that type of love and passion for herself.

That part of her was simply…. Gone…

——————

Coming to Terms

——————

She released the love birds to enjoy the freedom in her gardens, she gifted the poems and stories away, she stopped requesting the plays and musicals. She became quieter as her desire disappeared. Not seeing the need to speak as much. Becoming a listener instead.

She instead focused on her waters and ensured they were tranquil, with the exception of the storms that fertilized the soil. A task she had always found passion and joy in. She returned to earth more often to be amongst the waters of her being. And within the darkest depths of the deep, she allowed herself to be alone with her thoughts.

She knew the tea she drank that night is what caused her passions for love to cool and disappear. She also knew there was no way to reverse what was done. She may be the Maiden of the world’s waters… but it was a potion made by the Jade Emperor, ordered by him to drink and she did so willingly… she couldn’t undo what had been done…

But, as she thought, she came to an understanding as to why her parents had done what they did… the worry they must’ve felt.

What happened to the tragic Yao Ji was no secret… she had been told in a whispered voice when she first had been introduced to her infamous third eyed cousin and witnessed the tenseness and uncomfortable atmosphere his mere presence invited.

The sealing of her romantic heart had gifted her clarity… had she gotten married, her husband would’ve gained control over her. In her love and devotion, she’d do whatever He’d ask, at the risk of the balance of the world…

That couldn’t be. While she was… hurt, by the trick her Adopted Royal Parents had pulled, she grew to understand and accept their reasoning. What they had done to her. How they had changed her.

She found herself grateful they hadn’t taken her heart entirely, she still felt love for her family and the friends she had made… she still felt her joy and her other emotions. They simply stole her desire… which, was something she felt - now - that she could live without.

She increasingly enjoyed the serenity of her waters, the beauty of how the light danced below the surface, the ebb and flow of the tides and currents, the sounds and songs of the sea. She didn’t return to the jade palace for 3 cycles of the moon.

When attendants, heavenly soldiers, and even a dragon king found her and asked her about her lack of visitation in the palace, she simply responded that she would return to her Mother’s eventually, but that she needed to tend to her waters first, she’d been distracted for too long.

—————

Returning to the Palace

—————

When she did eventually return, she returned as she always did. Bringing gifts and taking the time to honor her parents and greet her people.

Bèiké then had a private audience with her mother where they spoke for a long while. What exactly was said in those rooms is known only to them. But in the end, the attendants witnessed as she gave her mother a hug and told her she forgave her. She later did the same with the Jade Emperor.

That day, the relationship between parents and daughter went relatively back to normal. And a few days Later, the Jade emperor made a public announcement that the virtuous Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ would be an eternal Maiden. Never to be married and forever unattached to matters of the heart. He would accept no proposal for her hand and any attempt to wed her behind his back would result in a swift and painful punishment.

After that shocking announcement that took many a celestial by surprise, Life returned relatively to normal. Bèiké tended to the waters, she did her filial duties, and she filled her days with poetry, novels, spending time with her siblings and the palace scholars. Though her voice was heard less often, becoming more of a listener.

———————

The Journey

———————

Eventually, she met the virtuous bodhisattva, QuanYin, on one of her visits to the Jade Palace, who was impressed by Bèiké’s tranquil nature and asked her if she’d be willing to assist the noteable reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, the Buddhist monk, Tang Sanzang, and his journey to get the Tripitaka Scriptures.

Bèiké said she’d be honored, however there was no way she’d be able to stay by their side the whole journey due to her nature as the world’s water. It’d be easier if they could just summon her if they need assistance.

QuanYin nodded and told her that she will give each of them a magic pearl that will always magically return to them, and that when the pilgrims drop the pearl into the water, and call her sacred title bestowed upon her by her Royal Father, asking her to come to them, she will hear them and be able to transport to wherever they need her.

Bèiké agreed and together with Quanyin, blessed each of the pearls with a bit of her essence so they could connect to her.

She was summoned faster than she could’ve predicted… or maybe she lost track of time within the endless beauty of her waters… but either way when she saw them, they were just as surprised to see her.

They were… funny. And she very quickly decided she liked them. They were flawed and disorganized, but they had loyalty to one another and were beautifully mortal at their core… Well, most of them.

That stone monkey, Sun Wukong as he called himself, the self proclaimed ‘Great Sage Equal To Heaven’ confused her. Though, she thought to herself, perhaps she should’ve expected as much. Stones are usually designed to sink, and yet this one learned to fly through the clouds.

Of course her waters would find themselves confused.

She aided them when they needed her and formed careful friendships with all of them, even the Monkey made of Stone.

——————

In the Birdie Au

Though she formed the closest friendship with a phoenix maiden with many colors who reminded her of a combination of her youngest sisters, and how she was before her heart was cooled. The Phoenix Maiden, affectionately Nicknamed ‘Birdie’ by her companions, was beautiful. With long ebony hair, embraced in colors that seemed to be weaved by her sister Zhinü herself, she was a vision of the beauty of the heavens. A rainbow in the sky, a piece of the sun that had broken away as she flew.

Birdie was someone she grew increasingly close with in friendship, and soon, she looked upon and over the Phoenix Maiden as she would her other sisters she felt tenderness and protectiveness over.

——————-

Normally

He closest friend and the person whom she enjoyed the company of most was one, Sha Wujing. The river spirit with brilliant Red Hair that reminded her of flames for all he was a Water Yaoguai. He was a large man who had the physique of a warrior but the temper of a learning Buddhist, More humble than the celestial Swine, More mindful than the Stubborn Monkey king. Bèiké and Wujing seemed to bond well with one another, Bèiké even being able to tell his mood whenever he found himself within the water.

She soon began to call him her Brother, and She was his sister. They spoke of many things at night in camps slightly away from the others, and she confided in him the potion she drank that sealed her heart. How she was hurt, but how she also forgave the ones who tricked her to drink, because despite the trickery and secrecy, Bèiké found herself being the better for it.

When the journey eventually came to an end, she granted them permission to keep her pearls in case they ever wanted to see or speak with her, or if they found themselves in need of Aid. Though she gave Wujing a different, Iridescent Pearl that did the same as the original Pearl, however with the added effect she knew who exactly was summoning her and if they were in distress or not.

———————

Nowadays; during the events of Black Myth

———————

Bèiké is still the eternal maiden, the sacred princess who’s rejected a thousand suitors, the tranquil lady of the waters. she loves her territory and the denizens within the waves. Her highest loyalty is to her royal parents and her friends.

However, she understands that sometimes her father’s actions can be cruel, and if it benefits her or those she cares about, she will keep secrets from him, and even use her powers to help obscure his vision in areas using her storms.

She had made peace with her cousin, Erlang Shen, understanding his mother’s strife and his own anger. She had even assisted him a couple times in his own challenges, summoning storms that blew in his favor. And offering a place in her personal palace in the mortal world to rest and sooth his mind.

She thought all was going well. So when she heard the rumors on the wind of her Cousin and her Sworn brother conspiring to remove his Headband permanently she was thrown for a bit of a loop and then decided that it was within her father’s nature and the court’s to lie about such a think for the sake of maintaining what they believed was balance and control.

She didn’t like it, but she had accepted it. As she understood the desire they both had for freedom. She had confronted the two, admonished them for their stupidity, but then wished them luck and said she would aid them however she could so long as it didn’t give away her involvement.

The fight had been hard, and she had to turn away, finding solace in the deepest parts of the ocean. She had ensured that Wukong’s people were safe - spiriting them away to her seaside palace that rarely had any visitors as it was an earthly palace and not a heavenly one.

Protecting the mountain itself was similarly a small matter. Asking her father in front of the entire court if she could be given the mountain as a birthday gift since that “Troublesome Monkey” was dealt with. The monkey Yaoguai’s had taken to fleeing, there was no great threats there, it was easier for the family to visit, and it was a gorgeous paradise! It was a shame to see it destroyed by her cousin than take it for her own.

Erlang played his part in proving counter arguments so that no one suspect them working together. And Bèiké shamelessly used her position as one of her father’s favorite daughters to obtain his agreement.

When she heard rumors of the Destined One who had re-emerged, she sighed in relief. But stayed away in case she brought too close attention to him as he grew.

At the end, when his memories had returned, she happily returned his mountain to him.

———————

Nowadays (With the Birdie AU)

———————

Most of everything is the same; she’s still an eternal maiden who’s rejected a thousand suitors, she’s still the “tranquil lady” of the waters, she’s still close with her cousin and her sworn brother, the Monkey King.

However, when she had inadvertently overheard his and Wukongs plan to free the Stone Monkey of the Buddha’s tightening headband that was welded to his head, she found herself angered once more.

Because their actions were going to inadvertently hurt the Phoenix Maiden. However by the time she had found Birdie, it was too late, and the fight had already begun. Bèiké found herself forced to stay silent on her knowledge lest she cause her dear friend and sister even more heartbreak.

But she vowed she’d never forgive Erlang and Wukong for the grief they caused that day. Not until the groveled and begged Birdie for forgiveness, and Birdie accepted their apologies…. And maybe even a bit after. She was so angry at both of them.

They didn’t feel the Sobs that wracked Birdie’s body as she held her so tight for fear the woman in her arms would fall apart, they didn’t have to rush to her side as she awoke screaming from the nightmares that plagued her at all hours of the night, they didn’t watch the Phoenix Maiden’s heart break over and over and have to assist in picking up the pieces, and they didn’t have to see her cry so much that her fair cheeks were permanently stained.

Bèiké made sure she was there for it all, and she wanted nothing more than to take her dear sister’s pain away. Knowing she couldn’t was a torture she never could’ve prepared herself for. All she found she could do, was simply be there.

She shielded her friend from the world, made sure storms raged around her palace when her friend had the worst of her crying fits so no one else besides her could hear them, made sure she rehydrated and reminded her to eat.

She even went so far as to invite the citizens of Mount Huaguo to her palace so they could keep the Phoenix Maiden company and help groom her wings. Letting her be surrounded by people who had loved the Monkey King as well, who could share with her the good memories instead of just remembering the bad.

Bèiké made sure that her Palace on the coast became just as much as Birdie’s home as it had been hers. Banishing Erlang from her territory, making sure the rooms Birdie had claimed were off limits to anyone besides the residents of Mount Huaguo, not even her mother on the rare occasions she visited, were allowed in those rooms. She kept all celestials away from the grieving Phoenix Maiden.

She patiently waited for the day that the foolish king made his appearance. Hoping that her dear sister and friend would allow her to slap some sense into his stubborn skull… or if she wanted the pleasure of doing it herself, inviting Bèiké to watch.

So when the monkeys came chattering about some ‘Destine One’ Bèiké grimaced…

It was time….

She asked Birdie if she was sure… did she want to risk her heart again? She was drowning in grief for so long… but ultimately promised that her pearl still works if she ever needs her, and that she would ensure her rooms stay clean and ready for her arrival.

To give this rumored ‘Destined One’ Hell.

Good luck.

Bèiké returned to the waters as her dear sister took to the sky. Allowing the waters to wash away her worries and return to her tranquil state.

And in her serene mindset, simply waited to see what was going to happen next.

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.213 thoughts

[The End of the Beginning of the End]

(Contents: Criticism - pacing, praise - Fuuko's speech)

I'm so tempted to just say that this chapter should have been what I predicted last week, hit post, and never say anything again to anyone ever, but I feel like that would be doing a disservice to everyone involved, most notably myself, so I'm going to try to give this chapter a fair and partial evaluation to the best of my ability

As other readers have said over the course of this week, I feel that this chapter was, in and of itself, fine, it's just mistimed. What the Unchaste Arc (if you can even call it that...) needed was a capstone focusing on Kururu. I won't go over how that would have looked since I went into detail on it last week, but it's extremely evident that that's the missing piece here on the basis that she's still clearly an antagonist in this chapter

Kururu does not have a single line, but she spends the entire chapter picking a fight with Julia and baring her fangs (which I'm glad she still has, to be clear), so Fuuko's entire speech about how all of the Negators used to be enemies but are now friends rings somewhat hollow

Fuuko mentions that Kururu told her Soul was the actual villain for this arc, but a) we didn't see that conversation, and b) that doesn't mean that she's on friendly terms with the team now. And if she is on friendly terms, then why a) weren't we shown that? and b) is she attacking Julia???

It's one thing for background events to be handwaved by omake on twitter or the collected volumes, but in my opinion this is central to not only the themes of the current arc, but the story as a whole. And I know Tozuka knows that. I've said it many times, Tozuka has earned my trust that he knows how to tell this story, all of my expectations for future events come from precedents that he's established, so when something like this happens, I have to wonder what's going on behind the scenes

Shonen Jump just got a new editor-in-chief, so it's possible that someone higher up the chain wasn't happy with the flow of this arc either and just wanted the slate cleaned, but that's entirely speculation. If I'm right though, that could also explain why the Bunny arc got wrapped up in a single panel, as it likely wasn't going to be "action-focused enough" for whoever wasn't vibing with the idol battle

In my opinion, this should have been a three-event chapter, like when Yusai, Isshin XII and Sean were recruited, with a third being about wrapping up Kururu's arc, a third being about Bunny's adoption (a lighthearted bit of cutesy comedy) and finally Fuuko's speech about Remember

Nico crying over Fuuko accepting this new version of himself as the same man was easily the highlight of the chapter, as it drives home what value using Remember has. We already saw from Nico regaining and perfecting Unforgettable that the memories don't overwrite the current self, they integrate and inform a more completed self. I've talked about the Looping mechanic introducing a sort of "reverse character development," but that development is still half-baked without the cast fully understanding the lies that they've overcome

I doubt we'll get a full scene dedicated to every single character reconciling with their memories, but even just a few of them remembering what they've lost rather than just understanding that they were supposed to lose anything will really change the flavor of their interactions going forward. There's a world of difference between Rip hearing that he's killed people and knowing who he killed, and the ability to strive to be something more comes from experience, not hearsay

All of the bonds that Fuuko has now are strong, but Nico knows firsthand just how much there was for those bonds to overcome. He's not simply her friend who doesn't remember her, he's someone who has helped and hurt her more than he could ever atone for, and she still forgave him. The weight of their friendship as it is now is all the more apparent after Nico could recall the actions that put that friendship to the test. For Fuuko to come see him when he was essentially a new man, think to herself "yes, this is the same man who put me through that," and then decide that that man was, after all was said and done, her friend...well, I'd cry too in Nico's position

And I imagine that everyone else will be much the same. For Shen to remember he sacrificed Gina, for Mui to remember she personally killed Shen, for Billy to remember betraying the Union only to be forgiven...everyone has a past that has informed who they are now, they just don't realize how much of an impact that it's had

And that's why it's so important that Fuuko waited until everyone had joined up to use it. Juiz once said that Remember was meant to reunite old allies, but that's not what Fuuko is using it for. If she did, she wouldn't be teaming up with the friends she "doesn't know yet does know," she'd only be teaming up with the friends she knows, invalidating the lives and choices of those she doesn't

If she simply revived their memories right off the bat, they'd pick up exactly where they left off, for better or worse. Billy and Rip may still hold everyone at arm's length, Sean may still resent everyone for being more important than him, Shen may still be motivated by revenge, etc. And worst of all, not everyone would be friends. Everyone was on mostly good terms by the end of L100, but Under was still Under and the Union was still the Union, separate entities for all intents and purposes

Now? It's just the Union. Everyone knows everyone, everyone is friends with everyone, and everyone knows more about themselves than they did before. The selves they know yet don't know are important tools for becoming better than they've ever been, lessons that they wouldn't have been willing to learn the first time around but are now retroactively open to

Fuuko is no longer turning complete strangers back into her friends, she's reminding her friends where they came from, and showing them how important their decision to be her friends truly is

No one is fighting God because of what he did to them anymore. They're fighting God because they believe it's the right thing to do, because they believe in Fuuko's vision of a better world. That's not an opinion they would have if she had used Remember on them, as their past ego would likely subsume their present, like Victor trying to erase Andy to resume control of their shared body, but now Fuuko has allowed them a strong enough sense of self to unify past and present into one complete future

The sentiment behind this chapter really can't be understated, which unfortunately is what makes its timing all the more frustrating. The fact that the Union isn't even all together means that this speech isn't actually hyping up how major it will be when Remember finally does get used, we already got that when Fuuko shared her vision of a 25-seat Roundtable, and instead it feels like it's priming her to fail. Like we're so close to seeing that vision fulfilled, how's it going to go wrong?

And if that's not what happens, then the timing is still wrong for one very simple reason: KURURU'S STILL NOT ONBOARD!!!

Everyone agreed to using Remember all at once, except for Kururu, who was still throwing an oddly silent fit in the background! "The friends I don't know yet do know"??? Kururu doesn't have any god damn clue who any of you are!!! She's the one person here who hasn't had that rapport built up, the one who doesn't have a reason to help Fuuko achieve anything, and the one who's motivations could still end up being overwritten simply because she hasn't developed a firmly established and differentiated ego! Granted, it doesn't seem like this one is too different from the last one anyway, but that's exactly the problem!!! We don't know the difference between the two Kururus because she's the only character who hasn't been given the opportunity to explain herself to the audience!!!

I mean, I guess Bunny hasn't either, but again, she at least has the naivete and optimism of a child who was freshly adopted, so we can at least somewhat justify her lack of characterization

I really, truly, deeply hope that Kururu gets the Feng treatment, that her development is just being put off for a more opportune moment, because if she's just going to be reduced to a background gag, then I will be sorely disappointed

That said, my love for Kururu ironically skyrocketed after this chapter, because now the Kururu I created in my mind, the Kururu I don't know yet do know, has much less chance of being replaced by the "true" Kururu from Tozuka's. While obviously I'd prefer to know authorial intent, Tozuka has inadvertently set Kururu aside and left me the opportunity to say "my character now," which is an oddly powerful way to form an attachment between character and reader

I should know, it's exactly what Oda did with Monet

Anyway, I think that's enough venting for this week. Here's hoping that next week's chapter will leave a better taste in my mouth

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

[clevermird]

Review: Deceived (Star Wars: The Old Republic) by Paul S. Kemp

Originally, I picked this book up when it first came out and wound up DNFing at about 75% for reasons that I now have absolutely no recollection of. 

This book is the second of four (I believe) novels that were written to tie into the MMORPG Star Wars: The Old Republic, this one about nine months before the game’s launch. As readers familiar with the game’s history will realize from the title, this one is based on the first cinematic trailer for the game and, in fact, the opening scene is a play-by-play recounting of the contents of that trailer. 

None of this is super relevant to Deceived itself, but it is some interesting background.

The actual plot of the book is relatively easy to follow even without much knowledge of Star Wars beyond the movies. 3500 years before Luke Skywalker destroys the first Death Star, the Galactic Republic (aided by the Jedi Order) and the Sith Empire are in diplomatic negotiations for a possible cessation of hostilities. Before they can, however, the Sith attack and destroy the Jedi Temple, killing untold numbers and occupying the Republic’s capitol world in order to force a more favorable deal for the Sith. 

Rather than focus on the political machinations, however, Deceived instead tells the story of three people affected by them: Aryn Leneer is a Jedi whose master was killed in the attack on the Temple and finds herself unable to put aside revenge, despite her order’s forbidding such things; Zereed “Z Man” Korr is a military pilot turned smuggler who’s been ordered by his criminal masters to run an Imperial blockade and deliver a shipment or die trying; and Darth Malgus is the Sith who led the initial strike against the Jedi and now finds himself disappointed by the outcome and uncertain about his relationship with his slave and lover. As the book progresses, the three find their goals intertwining and opposing before a final confrontation forces them to reevaluate the paths they walk. 

If I could sum up Deceived in one word, I would call it “average”. The prose is generally good enough not to be distracting (although Kemp does struggle with fight scenes, especially while trying to recreate the scene from the trailer). The characters are simple, but consistent and with understandable motivations. The pacing, while somewhat uneven (too much setup and not enough climax), is fast enough that the story never drags. And the plot, while simplistic and easy to predict, makes sense and has a clear flow of action from one scene and event to another. 

There was one character whose perspective I really would have liked to hear from and the fact that we never learn exactly what was going on in her head was disappointing, but that’s my only significant complaint. 

On the surface, it’s very difficult to point to anything in particular that I disliked about the book. But the entire time I was reading it, I just kept wanting more. More emotion, more twists, more originality, just more of something. Perhaps that’s ultimately why I dropped it last time, there just wasn’t enough there to keep me interested when other books were calling me, even if I didn’t actually dislike it. 

Warnings: As alluded to in the review, there is a fair amount of focus on the relationship between Darth Malgus and his slave, a woman named Eleena, who seems to have feelings for him as well. Although their relationship is clearly played as toxic and unhealthy, we never get Eleena’s PoV, leaving it very ambiguous as to what exactly is going on there and to what extent she’s actually willing to be involved (beyond the inherent power imbalance that exists between the two).

Rating: 6/10

[museaumofnaturalhistory]

The ‘Elegant’ Math Model That Could Help Rescue Coral Reefs - by Max G. Levy (Contributing Writer) | The Quanta Magazine - MATHEMATICAL BIOLOGY | 26th/02/2025

Physicists & Marine Biologists Built a Quantitative Framework Model Predicting as to how Coral Polyps Collectively Manage Making Corals of a Wide Range & Variety of Diverse Shapes & Sizes.

Since before she could remember, Eva Llabrés was a snorkeler. Her grandfather, a fishmonger from the Spanish island of Menorca, bought Llabrés her first mask & fins; throughout childhood, she was in the Mediterranean, spotting octopuses, eels, seagrasses & bright starfish. The ocean was a home, but in school, She preferred physics & math. In Barcelona for college, she dove into the theoretical mysteries of black holes & quantum gravity. After earning her doctorate, she changed gears: She wanted to come back to Earth, landing in the ocean. There, she found a world of unanswered questions in reef physics.

Coral is 2 things at once. It is a stony underwater structure, often spanning swaths of seafloor, that shelters ecstatically diverse marine life. It’s also the animal that builds that structure: an anemone-like polyp less than a centimeter long. By building calcium carbonate cups one on top of another and budding asexually, polyps collectively bulge, branch, ripple and fan out into diverse shapes, including shelves, boulders, pillars, branches and cauliflower-like nubs.

Why do corals form one shape over another? A single species can form different shapes under different circumstances, and simple environmental factors such as light and water flow aren’t enough to explain the variety. What coral researchers could really use is a computer model that simulates how polyps grow into complex structures from simple physical rules. Such a tool could help them understand how reef structures grow and change, and it could guide their efforts to restore corals where they’ve been lost.

Llabrés joined up with marine biologists to lend her mathematical expertise. In a study published in 2024, the team made headway toward a “universal” model of coral growth(opens a new tab). Informed by biological observations, such as how and when polyps bud, the tool breaks down a coral structure geometrically and can predict corals’ five most common shapes using just five growth variables.

Llabrés’ concise physical rules reproduce real coral patterns without the need for specific programming. “They created this universal recipe that can create many different types of coral shapes just by adding a few ingredients. … I like the elegance of it,” said Anna Vinton(opens a new tab), a quantitative ecologist with the University of Southern California who was not involved in the study. “It suggests that they’ve captured some of the fundamental principles of how corals grow.”

Eva Llabrés, a trained physicist, collaborates with marine biologists to mathematically model the growth of ecologically vital species including seagrasses & corals.

“Every computational biologist wants to do something like this … this kind of Occam’s razor idea that with the simplest model you try to explain as much as possible,” said Jaap Kaandorp(opens a new tab), a computational biologist with the University of Amsterdam who has modeled corals but was not part of Llabrés’ project. “The emergence of growth and form is one of the fundamental questions in biology.”

Coral modeling has immediate applications. Marine heat waves, sea level rise and ocean acidification — consequences of climate change — threaten coral animals, their calcium carbonate structures and the ecosystems they anchor. If scientists can understand the rules of how these organisms grow, they can better predict how to keep them alive and thriving through the changes to come.

Polyp Predictions

Llabrés’ foray into quantitative ecology began with a different marine species that shapes shallow-water ecosystems. Since the 1970s, computational biologists have modeled the theoretical growth of plants, such as grasses(opens a new tab) and trees(opens a new tab). Llabrés joined the Institute for Cross-Disciplinary Physics and Complex Systems in Mallorca to help with a similar effort with seagrass, led by the institute’s Tomàs Sintes(opens a new tab) and the marine biologist Carlos Duarte(opens a new tab) from King Abdullah University of Science and Technology in Saudi Arabia. During the research, one collaborator noticed that seagrasses grow complex colony patterns from budding clones — just like corals. “So then we said: Let’s try to apply what we know to corals,” Llabrés said.

The team wanted to home in on the mathematical rules that conjure the most common coral structures. A logic that explains the difference between growing into a tall and narrow column and a domelike “massive” coral must be buried deep in a polyp’s biological programming, they figured. It can be seen as an optimization problem: What’s the minimum number of variables needed to simulate the maximum number of shapes?

Coral Polyps are Animals, Related to Jellyfish & Anemones, Living in Colonies. - NOAA; G.P. Schmahl/FGBNMS

They started with the marine biologists’ expertise. When scientists say that coral “grows,” they’re referring to two processes: expansion and cloning. In expansion, individual polyps deposit calcium carbonate beneath their bodies in a cuplike shape, which enlarges as the polyp grows. Then, when the distance between polyps gets large enough, and there is empty space nearby, new polyps will bud off asexually — cloning — to expand the structure in a new direction.

"Polyps Collectively Bulge, Branch, Ripple & Fan Out into Diverse Shapes."

This told them that all coral structures take their shape from individual polyps’ microscopic inclinations. One polyp could grow and then clone up, down or sideways, but collectively they appear organized - fanning out into sheets or protruding like tendrils. “Massive” colonies grow outward horizontally and vertically at comparable rates, like inflated balloons; polyps of column colonies secrete their skeletal ingredients more or less vertically. Examples like these cued Llabrés into a biological logic that she could translate into mathematical language.

First, she reimagined a basic coral structure: Instead of being built from polyps, it is made of hexagonal, pyramidlike objects — pointy like a cone with a six-edged base — which she called “hexacones.” Each vertex (corner) represents a polyp, and the lines connecting them form a patchwork of triangles. Llabrés wrote rules to govern what happens to hexacones as the digital coral expands.

One rule describes cloning: Polyps grow apart until the space between them reaches a critical size, at which point a new polyp generation appears in that space. Another rule governs the expansion of the hexacone based on how and where polyps deposit calcium. And a third rule encodes how a subset of polyps can construct branches that jut out laterally from the rest of the coral.

The principles of cloning, expansion and branching guided Llabrés toward the most important variables for the model. The calcium carbonate deposit rate could partially describe expansion, and the distance between polyps was crucial to simulating cloning. For branching, both the angle at which branches protrude and the distance between branches mattered. This gave her four variables, each of which played a unique role.

Llabrés suspected that she was missing another variable that could skew a structure’s overall growth vertically or horizontally — a factor that distinguishes tables, massives and columns. She worried that this was asking too much of one variable with a value between zero and 1.

After hours and hours of clacking at code on her keyboard, it came together. A “growth mode” variable she devised was powerful. It allowed polyps in Llabrés’ model to grow differently based on their position in the colony. Adjusting its value, “very fast I got a massive and then a column,” she recalled. Then cauliflowers and tables and branches. “I was like, wow, I think I might have something here.”

Study co-author Eleonora Re, a doctoral candidate on Duarte’s marine biology team, recently conducted experiments in the Red Sea to validate the team’s five-variable model with real coral data. So far, the model’s predictions of coral shape match real coral, according to preliminary results she expects to publish this year.

The set of five variables reproduces more coral forms than any model before it, including those made by Kaandorp(opens a new tab). However, it reproduces only five of the many known shapes. “To re-create the whole diversity in growth forms you see in nature is an immense challenge,” Kaandorp said. “They cannot simulate everything, but it’s still an impressive range of growth forms.”

Vinton found the work exciting despite its limits. “It’s a model to represent the real world, so it’s not going to capture all of the complexity that we see in coral,” she said. “But it does [capture] a fantastic amount given how simple their mathematical framework is.”

It’s an encouraging illustration of theoretical ecology, she added. “People call it the ‘headlights’ of ecology and evolution,” she said. “It can guide your hypotheses for what you might see in the real world.”

From Model to Real World

Coral reefs have been around for millions of years, and many of today’s living reefs are thousands of years old. Clearly, corals are survivors. That’s because a coral is biologically programmed to adapt to new conditions — an ability called plasticity — by adjusting its physiology and growth to cope with change within certain bounds.

Eleonora Re, a Marine Biologist, Checks the Health of Coral Fragments at a Nursery in Saudi Arabia. The Fragments are Used to Help Restore Ailing Reefs. - Courtesy of Eleonora Re

Plasticity differs from evolution because it happens within an individual’s lifetime. Understanding a polyp’s adjustments can therefore help biologists grasp the limits of adaptation in an era of unprecedented change. How quickly does coral grow? How densely can polyps pack together? What shapes do colonies assume to adapt to different environments?

Vinton wonders whether certain shapes are inherently more adaptable than others. “Their shape can determine their fitness in different environments,” she said. “Their survival, but also their reproduction.” When a chunk of coral breaks off in a strong wave, it can grow on its own into a new colony — a form of asexual propagation that lets species colonize new areas. Shape and density matter; a coral with fragile branches is more likely to reproduce this way than one in a massive boulder form. “Are they breaking off more, or are they not?” she asked. That difference between two structures could determine a reef’s future. However, polyps’ internal growth programming isn’t everything. While Llabrés’ model represents an imagined genetic predisposition for certain shapes, in real life the environment is just as important to coral growth, if not more so. For example, if you grow one species of coral in sunlit shallow water, Kaandorp said, it will grow very differently than in deeper, darker water.

“There’s a direct connection between the growth process and environmental influence,” he said. “This issue is very important.”

Llabrés’ next step is to include environmental factors such as water flow or light intensity. “These are the two main things known to influence coral,” said Llabrés(opens a new tab), who is now a postdoc at the Hawai‘i Institute of Marine Biology. “When it’s working, then the model can be a tool to predict what’s going to happen in changing conditions.”

Such tools can guide biologists to rebuild reefs with shapes optimally equipped for the long-term, large-scale ecological restoration(opens a new tab) that’s so far been elusive(opens a new tab). “This kind of understanding is crucial for predicting how coral ecosystems and marine ecosystems might respond to climate change,” Vinton said, “and which species might need more attention and restoration.”

Llabrés has witnessed decades of impacts from climate change in the waters she grew up snorkeling. “I’ve seen the change — the system degrading,” she said. “There’s some species that I don’t see there anymore.” But her experience in the water has also evolved, thanks to a physics-tinted lens on marine life.

“I find myself asking more questions whenever I’m snorkeling,” she said. “I see even more clearly how resilient nature is; it often finds ways to adapt and thrive, even in ways we might not expect.”

[karizard-ao3]

My reactions to Evangelion episode 3: a transfer/ the silent phone

This is where we get to the episodes I did not watch previously. I hope we get to know more about Rei in this one. In the episode preview at the end of episode 2 it looked like she was in the same class or school as Shinji. So let's see!

I've never seen a kid look less okay or getting used to it.

This kid is not doing good.

You can tell he's the kind of kid who aims to please and I feel like he kind of craves affection.

Why does Shinji need friends? How does that help the mission? Or are they just talking?

How old is Shinji?

This Toji (?) guy... So we're seeing how more kids are affected by what happened. Not sure if this is important to the plot, but it's nice to see the civilian perspective.

Uh oh, Shinji is the pilot.

Shinji's got his earbuds in. He'd fit in perfectly in 2024. What a loner.

Are the Angels from the meteor?

I can't imagine what these school officials were thinking giving the kids laptops with instant messaging capabilities to use during school hours.

Not surprised Toji punched him.

That glasses guy is a shit starter.

Did Rei predict the emergency alert before it happened or did they notify her? I'm not sure.

No glasses, boy! Don't sneak out to watch!

If they know regular weapons aren't going to stop the Angels, why do they keep using them?

Goddamnit it, Glasses. I said don't.

Don't call him and idiot, Misato.

Look, he's got PTSD. He needs to just let the Eva do its thing again.

So it seems like protecting people is what gets Unit One's juices flowing.

Oh, Misato is a rule breaker.

I'm a little disturbed by the Eva having fingernails. Is it like biotech? How did they make it?

Shinji's a little crazy.

In Closing

Trying to think how to gather together my impressions. Misato is interesting to me because on the one hand she's devoted to the mission and she's obviously good enough at what she does that she's a captain, but she also has a laxness about her (like letting the boys in the cockpit and telling Shinji to disengage). I can't tell if she's genuinely chaotic good or if she's got an ulterior motive here. Like, where do her loyalties lie?

I'm interested to see whart happens with Toji and Glasses and how this is going to play out through the series.

I know we only just met him but Shinji does not look like himself when he's piloting. Is he losing himself a little bit when he's in the Eva? It seems like something's not right with him, at least when he's in there.

Also, I kind of wonder about the Eva training. Is it the most effective? It seems like they don't fully understand how the connection between the pilot and the Evas works because Shinji's keeps doing things it shouldn't and it seems like he's more successful when he ignores instructions and goes with the flow. Of course, I've only seen two fights so far, but that's how it looks to me.

I'll watch more tomorrow! That's the plan, anyway!

[makingspiritualityreal]

Firstly, I love your posts soo much!!

Maybe it is the effect of pluto and sun transiting the Aquarius!! that I have an idea..just hear me out.

I wish there were some free open astrology forums that helped people by telling them one positive life event that individual can look forward to based on their charts.

In fact, it would be so nice if the predictive astrology could start offering predictions about more positive events to look forward to such that it becomes slightly easy to bear with what's happening at the present.

Just saying...

💛

Are Predictions Important in Astrology?

I appreciate your message, and it is an excellent time to talk about my perspective on the subject.

I am not a fan of predictive Astrology. I say this as a person who completely understands how it is to feel such despair that you feel like you can't go on another second without having the assurance that your life will get better soon. That's also why people turn to more abstract means of divination, such as tarot.

However, these tools should be used to understand the flow of your life and what your current growth path is about. They're not a take out menu that you pick from. Insistence on predictions has caused many astrologers to be treated very instrumentally. Some people think a psychic is someone who's supposed to just deliver the version of the future that the client is going to like to hear. "you will get married in a year and it will be a June wedding" yeah right lol.

I know many good astrologers. I have yet to see even the best ones I know make a single accurate prediction. When events such as death, loss or illnesses in my family were happening, it was always a surprise. We're not supposed to know such things. Fun fact, my psychic abilities were tingling, up to a year ahead even, but I always ignored them in key moments.

I will explain it to you through an example. My mother died prematurely when I was barely out of high school. She was a single mother, and her death put me on the outs with the rest of my family, that showed their true colours in a difficult situation. It was a shock to everyone because she was very physically healthy and fit, and way too young to die and yet it happened.

A year before her death, she left me alone for the summer in the condo where I grew up with her. I was working in my hometown at that time, in between college semesters, and she found an extra paid summer job with some of our family members that live abroad. It was the first time in my life, that I was without her for that long, and to be frank, I loved the independence, like any very young person does when you let them "off the leash". I remember very clearly the day she left. We used to have family pictures taped to a glass door on a living room cabinet. My grandfather was an avid photographer and we always had plenty of photos with him around. One of the pictures was a close up of my eyes. Because the glass cabinet was positioned close to the living room window, the sun was always streaming in on it. That can cause discoloration in printed photos. On that day, the picture of my eyes had the sun leave long marks on it in such a way, that they looked like tears.

I believe this to be the strongest psychic experience I've ever had, even though I still had years of spiritual learning ahead of me at that point. Because upon seeing that picture, I knew my mom was going to die, and that it was going to cause grief in my life, even though it took over a year for that prediction to come true. I never told anyone about it, and never took that feeling seriously.

Why? Because it was so unbelievable. Because logic was against it. Because I had my own personal feelings and egoic consciousness, that had completely different feelings and desires about my life circumstances. And because it wasn't yet the time of my life when I was mature enough to treat my spiritual journey seriously.

And that is how it was meant to be at the time. Looking back on it now, I remember the feeling of prediction more as a moment of awareness. It was like seeing an inevitable chain of events unfold. Something in my consciousness was smart enough to be able to see so far ahead. Spiritually, I believe it was a warning from my spirit guides, and in a way a friendly one. "Get used to being alone and handling life alone for more than one summer vacation because it's soon gonna become your reality". But I couldn't take it seriously, because my mom and I were fighting a lot at that time, so missing her was not what I had in mind at all. I craved independence, and that feeling was my reality, which I took more seriously than some abstract premonition. In a way, knowing didn't really help me at all in the moment.

And that situation shows perfectly what the problem is with predictions. Human beings are limited by their egos and their flaws and their lack of perspective. That makes them reject whatever doesn't currently fit into their narrative. People don't want a real prediction. They want to hear they're going to get the cookie they're craving. Then they want it over and over and over again.

I understand my journey now, so many years after all these events. But it took so much growing up, that no prediction would ever fix.

There is always something to look forward to in life. Don't try to control it, and let it come to you. When the Universe wants to put you through a certain experience, it will, and there is nothing you can do about it.

[adamwatchesmovies]

We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011)

It’s impossible to imagine anyone calling We Need to Talk About Kevin their favorite movie. Even saying that you ‘enjoyed it’ would raise some eyebrows but that’s because it’s so well made. Watching it alone would be nearly traumatic but if you catch it with a group of friends and set aside some time to talk about it (the movie’s title says you should, after all), it will be an illuminating experience you won’t forget anytime soon.

Once a successful travel writer, Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton) has lost everything and now lives alone. Hated by her neighbors for a crime her son Kevin (played by Ezra Miller) committed, she thinks back to his upbringing, trying to figure out where things went wrong.

If We Need to Talk About Kevin has any flaws, it’s that 1) the story is unpleasant and 2) you can sort of piece together some aspects of it before the big reveal. I'll argue these flaws should not be held against the film because they're necessary.

There was no way to make We Need to Talk About Kevin a good ol’ time at the movies. Kevin is a horrible collection of cells. He is a manipulative psychopath whose life has brought nothing but misery to everyone who ever met him. When he dies, the world will be a better place. No insult you throw his way is too harsh and no punishment he endures could ever be agonizing enough.

As for that second “flaw”, the film’s predictable “reveal” during the final act, I’m going to argue that Kevin's crime is a forgone conclusion. The point of the movie is that we are revisiting the past through Eva’s eyes. She's exploring her memories, wondering how she could've missed all the hints that we see. It allows you to understand and maybe even sympathize with her, which is a difficult thing because you don’t like Eva. You might not want her to end up in the darkest, most painful circle of Hell Kevin is sent to, but even before her son completely destroyed her life, she wasn’t a particularly nice person, a good mother or a good wife (Eva's husband is played by John C. Reilly) either. Ever wonder how the parents of someone who overdoses on drugs, becomes a serial killer or abuses their spouse must feel when they learn that what they knew would happen actually happens? That's what We Need to Talk About Kevin is about.

We Need to Talk About Kevin is difficult to watch but in the end, it all builds to something so unexpected you have to pause and think about it. Look at the way director Lynne Ramsay uses the colour red, for example. It's an obvious choice for a story about violence like this one, but the true meaning of the colour is not obvious. It triggers memories or ties flashbacks to scenes in the present. Noises are used similarly. There’s the sound of sprinkler systems that come back over and over. You don’t know why at first. When we find out, that information recontextualizes everything. You're so busy thinking about the way the story flows and its themes that you nearly overlook the other technical aspects. The performances are the kind that are so convincing you'll overlook them. You forget you're watching actors; you just see the characters they're playing. Although the emotions the film raises are negative, the techniques used to generate them is nothing short of masterful.

Throughout We Need to Talk About Kevin, you’re unsure about how the mother and son feel about each other. Every fiber of your being tells you that Eva hates Kevin and that he hates her. You hate Kevin too, so how could she not? Everything he’s ever done has built up to a deliberate choice that has ruined her life. It's like everything else was just collateral damage. It was always solely about her. They are always on each others’ minds and the last scene makes you wonder. To me, it seems as though Kevin has kept ties with his mother just so he can continue to torment her, just so he can see his hard work pay off. If he can get her to say “I hate you”, he’s won. Sensing this - after all, Eva knows him better than anyone - she puts up with him. The big question is whether, in that final scene, something has changed. The last time we see Kevin there’s something different about him. Certainly on the outside. On the inside? It’s hard to say. Maybe he’s realized something’s about to change and he now realizes just where his actions are about to bring him. Maybe it’s just a new tactic. Maybe hatred has turned to love. Maybe there was love there all along. Figuring out what's actually happening in that final moment is what this movie is ultimately about, which makes it a powerful experience. I said powerful, not necessarily enjoyable.

As time passes, I find myself thinking about We Need to Talk About Kevin a lot. Are the thoughts loving? I'm not sure. Perhaps they're similar to the thoughts parents of terrible children have about their kids; yeah you hate them, but you know, they’re your kid so one way or another, you love them too. (February 25, 2022)

[vriskarlmarx]

gimme F, G, I and S for the fic ask game! (my condolences re: the zoom meeting. i know your pain o7)

thanks for the distraction o7

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This is such a fun question! I had a very tough time writing the dialogue in Synthesis of Vast Contradictions (Star Trek, Christine Chapel/T'Pring) because writing a vulcan talking in general is already challenging enough, let alone T'Pring specifically, let alone T'Pring flirting lmao but in the end I really like how it turned out! I'm proud of the way the conversation flows between them and conveys both tension and playfulness, and it ended up being some of my favorite dialogue I've written so far. Here is a snippet:

“What do you find so interesting about us?”

“The intensity,” she answers instantly. “Underneath all that logic, or maybe because of it, you’re so intense about everything. It’s kind of —” insanely hot “— magnetic, actually. What do you find interesting about humans?”

T’Pring considers the question for a moment.

“Your capacity to surprise me. I have gotten better at predicting and understanding Spock’s behavior and, as such, better at predicting and understanding human behavior. The naked emotionality of it is no longer what I find most puzzling, I think I have come to understand that most of all, but the contradictions that are present in each person, pulling them in different directions is fascinating. Hedonism and altruism, for example, coexist in you. You are the synthesis of vast contradictions.”

Christine looks at T’Pring’s lips for a moment, shiny with droplets of the qturh drink. “Hedonism and altruism… we’re pleasure-seekers with a heart of gold, then?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Of course, each individual is different. Do you find that to be true about yourself?”

“Pleasure-seeker… yes,” Christine laughs. “Guilty as charged on that front. But,” she takes a moment to look at T’Pring again, and her stomach coils around itself. She tries her best to keep her tone light, teasing, “I’m not so sure about the heart of gold.”

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Generally speaking start to finish, but occasionally I'll do out of order if I had an idea for a specific scene that inspired me and I'm having a hard time introducing the context around that scene. In those cases I'll sometimes start with the scene I had the original idea for and then backtrack to what needs to be shown before that.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

I haven't experienced true guilt since I was like 13 I don't think. Plenty of pleasure however 😌😌😌

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

Hehe, good question. I tend to hop around fandoms a lot so it really depends on the fandom. For DN though I really like the darker tropes that crop up, like when L and Light are openly horny for murder, or commit straight up acts of necrophilia to each other, and on a similar but separate vein when Mello and Near do freaky sexual things with guns and other weapons 👍 Also I really, really love when people get really fucked up with Wammy’s House, like portraying it as Quillsh Wammy’s Personal Child Abuse Machine, or generally portraying Watari as a morally questionable if not straight up bad man 😌🥰

[revoleotion]

Now that the 24 hours reading challenge is completed, here's what I read (+ a quick rating now that it's still fresh)

Bruderschaft (Brotherhood) - 7/10

THE GOOD POINTS

Great Star Wars book to establish Anakin's and Obi-Wan's relationship at the start of the clone wars and where it will go

Obi-Wan gets to meet cute one of his many future side bitches (and they are immediately NOT normal about each other)

intriguing enough side characters, very on the nose with the parallels to existing characters but that's not a bad thing here

good world building, points made about sci-fi/fantasy racism and disrespect towards "ugly" alien culture, especially art

MINUS POINTS

just needless Mace Windu slander nobody needed or wanted? He seemingly only existed to show how much poor little meow meow Anakin being bullied by the bad evil jedi master who doesn't want him here

adding to this after some great takes from milena: it's not THAT bad and only ever coming from Anakin's pov (who is irrational) and Palpatine (using it to manipulate Anakin), so it's fine. But. People are already extremely unfair towards Mace and this book doesn't help.

the book couldn't have sucked up any harder to Qui-Gon if it crawled up his ass, slipped back out in the front and offered to do his taxes for him. In my personal opinion problematic (but more so just... wrong?) portrayal of conflicts between him and Obi-Wan, and he's overall just. presented as this perfect, idolized fanon version people want him to be, neglecting anything we see him do in the Episodes (or the very CANON Master & Apprentice novel)

Middlesex - 10/10

Just overall a story I really enjoyed and is beautifully crafted, both the story/pacing, and the flow of the German translation

It will always have a special place in my heart because my dad recommended and then gifted it to me, and while it clearly doesn't describe my exact experience, it is the reason he has a more nuanced and understanding view on intersex and non-binary identity

Maybe I have just read a lot of bad/sanitized fiction lately but what really got me was how believable Cal's pov was. The narration never breaks away from the protagonist's beliefs and doesn't shy away from letting anyone in the novel have problematic world views (some of which they are aware of, some of which they aren't, and some of which they never challenge). Everybody in it is a person. And sometimes people cause harm for other people. Some people shovel their own grave. Some are just killed. It's so well done.

It also included several quotes that had the audacity to come into my house, punch me in the face and steal my lunch money. For example the moment of describing undressing in the bedroom during two very traumatized people's first time as unwrapping the bandages of a wound. Really made me pause for a moment. Fuck.

This is how you lose the time war - 13/10

I wouldn't even know where to start. I don't think I have read a book this good in years. It will haunt me. It made me want to write countless essays about it. It made me want to savor the words one after the other like a meal that's so good you're terrified of finishing it. I predicted the ending a few pages in. It still caught me off-guard. I expected my heart to be broken but it didn't.

A lot of media nowadays just makes you feel like shit. This novel managed to make me cry multiple times and still didn't leave me feeling destroyed. (So that is possible. Not everything needs to be dark and depressing for the sake of being dark and depressing. What a concept.)

A dowry of blood - 10/10

Vampires. Many, many complicated feelings. Sex. Beautiful language. I loved it.

What I really, REALLY want to praise it for is that the character narrating the events wants to find humanity in someone repeatedly choosing cruelty over it, and even when she has to admit that he is dangerous, her (and any other characters') hope in him is never presented as naive or wrong. It's simply presented as a specific single case of a single person choosing cruelty, and we are left to wonder if her realization could've come earlier but never get an answer.

Also just really hit a lot of my tastes from a smut perspective. That's all I'm saying for now.