#she was literally going insane thanks to the spirits and her own despair

[rurukandy]

Regarding Atalanta and her “obsession with children”

To begin with, it’s not an unjustified “obsession”. In fact, Atalanta has her reasons to be attached to children and to fight for her dream with all her might. She wants a place where all children are loved, as the novel says:

The anime only shows her saying “I want a world where children are loved”, but it’s not elaborated like in the novel. She wants a world where children are loved, and thanks to that love they receive in their childhood, they grow as proper adults who love their own children and don’t abandon them and so on. Like Achilles said: a pure and beautiful wish.

As you might know, Atalanta was abandoned as a child by her father. Her “sin” was to be born as a woman, since her father, king of Arcadia, wanted a son, so he left her to her luck in the wildness, where Artemis took a pity for her and saved her life. Then some hunters found her and raised her. In short, Atalanta grew up without knowing what was parental love. She was thrown away as if she was something disposable, a mere object, and she fights for a world where children don’t suffer the same destiny.

Now, you might wonder (for those who only watched the anime), why does Atalanta want to kill Jeanne so badly? Why did Atalanta kill Jack, who was a child, if she loves children so much? Answers under the cut:

In volume 3 (and the anime), Atalanta is sent by Shirou to patrol Trifas, and when night falls and Jack and her master start with their hunt, Atalanta witnesses everything Jack and Reika have been doing:

Atalanta doesn’t want children involved. Atalanta doesn’t want children to be hurt. And she will do ANYTHING to protect children, those she wants to save, so from the beginning, where Jack started to involve children in her foul play, Jack became her enemy. She and her master were using innocent creatures, so Atalanta had the resolution to kill them without showing any kind of mercy. They had to die. They had to disappear. Atalanta saw Jack and her master as enemies not because they were from the other faction. She started to loathe them, to feel this desire to kill them when they started to involve children.

Sadly, Jack doesn’t disappear. She asks the startled Atalanta why? why did she kill her mother? right before she releases all the vengeful spirits of the children she was made of. 

Atalanta is engulfed by Assassin’s illusion, and she (like Sieg and Jeanne) are transported to 1880′s London. You know the drill (the part where she has flashbacks with Medea Lily doesn’t appear in the novel, sorry) and she sees hell.

Hell where children are abandoned, mistreated, murdered, thrown away like she was. This is what Atalanta sees. Instead of seeing a happy memory with Medea like in the anime, what Atalanta sees is something more… hardcore. She sees practically what Sieg saw but a hundred times worse, mostly for her.

Atalanta wants to save them. She understands them. She understands what’s not being loved is like. She understands what’s being thrown away is like. She understands them. And that’s what makes her the perfect target for those spirits.

This leads to the children literally entering her body. The spirits literally enter her skin and possess her arm. That’s the explanation for the blackened arm that never makes it appeareance again in the anime (seriously A1, you had one job). After the children possess her arm, they start talking to her. Her experience in that “hell”, the despair she feels, the horrible things she witnessed, and the spirits of children possessing her lead her to her downfall. 

Later, Atalanta shows up when she sees Jeanne trying to purify the spirits in front of her. She has started with the ritual and the children are scared. Obviously, she’s not happy with it, because she thinks Jeanne will kill them. Atalanta is not only angry but frustrated, because since Jeanne is “a saint”, she has the power to SAVE the children from evil, a power Atalanta would wish to possess instead of relying on the power of the grail to make her wish come true. Atalanta would do anything, as I said, to save children from the hell they live in, and she has the perfect person to save them right in front of her, but said person believes that the right thing to do is killing them. And she ain’t having none of that. They’re just children. Victims of the circunstances. Why kill them? why not save them?

(Also, Jeanne notices her right arm, not like in the anime that they made her completely oblivious to something so obvious).

It’s sad to read this part because Atalanta knows she’s powerless when it comes to making her wish come true, so she clings tightly to Shirou’s own wish thinking that it’ll lead to hers and to win the war in order to have the grail grant her wish. What would a mere archer do to save children of mankind? Nothing. But.. if she had the grail. If she won the war. Or even… if she was “a saint”, like Jeanne.

She’s a saint. A saint must save people. Not kill them. That’s what the angry Atalanta thinks. Yet Jeanne doesn’t think of herself as a saint. 

The exorcism begins after Archer’s attempts to stop Ruler. The children are exorcised, and thus Jack meets her end. However, Atalanta still has the spirits that weren’t exorcised living in her right arm. The story progresses with Atalanta slowly suffering her downfall, with her right arm becoming rotten and with the voices asking her to kill that fake saint of a woman. Like being brainwashed. 

Later, Archer returns to the hanging gardens and her behavior is different, to the point that both Shirou and Semiramis wonder what’s up with her. She responds to their questions in an apathetic, boring manner and claims she’s tired. However, Shirou notes her beautiful face is full of something akin to rage:

Then, she has this encounter with Caster that was completely cut off the anime, that deeply explores her rage, and her resolution to kill Ruler more than anything:

Archer of Red silently walked through the Hanging Gardens. Her pace was quick, as if she was trying to shake off that scene carved into her memories. But before she could go anywhere, a single man came to stand in her path.

“…Out of the way, Caster.”

(…)

Archer grabbed the collar of Caster’s shirt as if she were fed up with him—and pushed him against a wall.

“I’m tired. Very tired. So shut up, you clown.”

But Caster didn’t shut up.

“There is no way you of all people would be tired from a mere scouting mission! And you aren’t tired, but frightened, are you not? Just like a child who’s unable to escape into sleep after hearing a scary story!”

“Shut up!”

Archer’s gaze oozed with killing intent. Her eyes declared that she would kill him if he joked around any further. Nevertheless—Caster questioned her, his smile never breaking.

“—What did you see? What did you perceive? How foolish. No matter what you saw, it is already merely a remnant of the past. We are ghosts of the past, and if ghosts regret the past, they become merely vengeful spirits.”

The words of the clown, who shouldn’t have known anything, gouged the deepest depths of Archer’s heart.

“You bastard…!!”

(…)

“—We must live in the future. To devote our bodies to the yet-unseen world. Archer, you also want to see it, don’t you? A world where all children are loved!”

(…)

“For the sake of that, we must activate the Greater Grail. Through any means possible.”

“…You really believe that it will grant that wish?”

“You heard our Master’s words, did you not? That Greater Grail can certainly grant his and your wish.”

Hearing that answer, distress and conflict filled Archer of Red’s face. Caster’s words were truly like the devil’s whisper.

“I—don’t know. Certainly, if it’s his wish, it might have the power to grant my wish as well. But… but, is it really all right? Is that wish truly… correct?”

“Who knows? I don’t know either. No, let me put it like this. Are you unable to decide unless there’s a guarantee? [To be or not to be]—in that case, a clown can only laugh!”

Archer glared at Caster for a little while—but a little bit of life had returned to her eyes. She silently walked away from him.

Caster called out from behind her.

“By the way, Archer-dono. In the end, just what kind of hell did you see?”

Keeping her back to him, Archer whispered softly.

“…It was a piece of the world’s system. Gods, heroes, magical beasts, evil kings—everything was dead there.”

If an evil being committed a crime, then she would eliminate it.

If a god went on a rampage, then she would search for a method to soothe it.

But there was neither there. It was a part of mechanism of the world, working so superbly well that it created a perfect system that preyed on the weak.

There was only one way to destroy it.

The fulfillment of her wish by the activation of the Greater Grail. That was Archer’s only hope now.

“I couldn’t save them with my own power… But, even though that woman could have saved them, she abandoned them and cut them down.”

Her fists trembled with rage—and, even while understanding that this question was a landmine, Caster of Red asked her without holding back his curiosity.

“That woman?”

Turning around at the question, Archer of Red’s eyes were filled with dreadful glee.

“Jeanne d’Arc. I will kill that woman. I’ll shoot her down with my arrows, and if that doesn’t work, I will rip her apart with my claws, and if that doesn’t work, I will tear her to shreds with my fangs.”

“Oh my, is that possible with your beautiful nails and teeth?”

With unfading madness in her eyes, Archer of Red smiled in joy from the bottom of her heart.

“It’s possible. If it’s to kill that woman, I will even become a monster.”

A foreshadow of her metamorphosis. Everything I mentioned before is mentioned here. Archer is frustrated, enraged, and Shakespeare is only fueling the fire of her wish of revenge. Not Achilles’ deadly honesty; it’s this conversation Shakespeare gives her what makes her hatred even intense. This exchange of words not only gives Shakespeare’s character a bit more of importance (yeah, more than merely being comic relief), but makes clearer the reasons why Atalanta wants to kill Ruler if you didn’t get it when she was in Trifas. 

Later, Atalanta goes to her room and we find out this:

However, the interior design of the rooms was quite cold and blunt. To Servants, who did not require sleep or food, personal rooms were simply for protecting their privacy. And even that privacy was almost completely useless considering the role they were summoned to this world for.

However, right now, Archer of Red needed to be alone.

She sat on the bed and threw off her leather gauntlets—and then she looked at her discolored right arm. There was a black bruise like a curled snake twining around the skin of her arm.

It neither hurt nor inconvenienced her movements. But Archer could tell. This was a ‘curse’ of extremely high purity. Most likely, it was from that darkness which had swallowed her up when she killed Assassin of Black’s Master.

Assassin of Black’s repulsive past. The flocks of children, the grudge of the unborn fetuses. Right before Assassin of Black died and dispersed, this curse was probably engraved in Archer.

Of course, it would be easy to cut it off. Though Archer had no means to dispel curses, their group’s Assassin had the abilities of a Caster. There was also the dual Master-Servant Shirou Kotomine to rely on.

If she asked for their aid, it probably wouldn’t be hard to restore her right arm.

But—Archer couldn’t choose that option no matter what. Naturally, she didn’t want to rely on Assassin’s help. The idea of showing any weakness to that woman wasn’t even funny enough to be a joke.

And Shirou Kotomine was technically Assassin’s Master. So she was naturally reluctant to request his help.

…No, those were all excuses. Archer understood. She had to accept this curse. This curse was the resentment of the children she loved more than anything else.

Fortunately, there was little pain since it was merely the work of low-class spirits.

And she didn’t mind even if this curse brought about her own destruction. This was a punishment. A punishment she had to accept.

She wrapped bandages around her rotten-smelling right arm, and decided to leave it alone with that.

There was one thing that Archer hadn’t noticed. It was true that what possessed her right arm were low-class vengeful spirits, too weak to have any effect on Archer herself. After all, Servants were the spirits of heroes who stood at the pinnacle of all spirits.

In the first place, it had been possible for Archer to reject the possession. The moment the vengeful spirits entered her arm, she could have even devoured them as sustenance without any danger to herself.

But she had refused to do that. In other words, she wished for ‘those children’ to maintain their consciousness. Of course, these vengeful spirits did not have any high-level intellect. They simply continued whispering their wish.

We want to go back, we want to go back, we want to go back. We want to go back inside Mother’s belly.

They could only whisper. They were vengeful spirits that should have been completely harmless. But Archer of Red felt ashamed at those whispers and felt compassion and pity.

Those were feelings that one must never have when facing vengeful spirits who only made appeals for their final wish. That compassion stirred up her emotions, and gradually made her hatred swell up towards both herself, who couldn’t save them, and that holy maiden, who didn’t save them.

“I don’t care.”

But Archer of Red accepted that hatred without hesitation. She couldn’t help cherishing those ephemeral, destructive feelings.

The more she hated herself and that woman—the more she could prove and believe in her own love.

So, for now, she would sharpen her fangs. In order to kill that false saint, Archer of Red continued to earnestly nurture her hatred.

As an heroic spirit, stronger that those low-class spirits, they wouldn’t have represented a problem for her, yet she accepted them. She felt compassion for them. The spirits of CHILDREN, the things she loves the most in the world. So great is her kindness, so great is her heart that she didn’t want to erase them from her body and live with them, letting her consume her thoughts, leading her to her downfall. Atalanta might be a bit cruel, she might not care exactly about human life and accept the death of others as something natural and kill with an straight face without any regrets, but when it comes to children, it’s different. She becomes a kindhearted, lovingly person who’s willing to do ANYTHING for them and their sake. She also accepts this as a punishment part of her self loathing for not being able to save them. 

“I will bear with this punishment because I couldn’t save them, I will bear with it because they’re the spirits of children. This is the right thing to do”, she might have thought.

Later, when she’s preparing for the last battle, we get this:

At this point she’s completely possessed, full of hatred and rage, and remembering her past doesn’t help either. Atalanta now doesn’t only want to kill Jeanne, but kill everyone who interferes in her path to salvation of children. She will happily become a beast and even kill herself if it means saving them, or that’s what she thinks. Or that’s what the spirits make her thing. As long as she has their voices, she has motivation. She has the will to fight. She has the will to do ANYTHING to protect her wish.

Sadly, it’s a big contradiction. Her wish, so pure, so beautiful, being reached with destruction and slaughter? She doesn’t care. Her eyes are clouded with hate and she’s slowly losing her mind. She’s no longer thinking by herself at this rate and it becomes worse when she activates Agrius Metamorphosis (which, as you can see, has been intending to use after her exchange with Shakespeare)

TL/DR (because I’m tired): Atalanta’s obsession with children isn’t born from nowhere. And it’s not an insane obsession. I wouldn't call it obsession per say. She had a pure intent, she just wanted children to not go through what she had to go through, so she decided to join Shirou’s side, who had almost the same wish as her. She decided to discard her master (mostly after learning he was easily tricked) and follow Amakusa’s path. She didn’t intend to kill Jeanne out of jealously or just because “lmao she went nuts”. She was actually posssessed by evil spirits, and while she could have easily discarded them, she accepted them thanks to the hell she saw back in Jack’s illusory world. She saw her representation of herll. She saw a woman who was known as a saint killing children instead of saving them. She felt horrible with herself, to the point of hating herself for not being able to save them because she was powerless. The spirits simply took advantage of this and added in to her downfall. She fell into despair and the spirits pushed her further and further until Achilles kills her (thus making her reason go back and the spirits and the possession of the calydonian boar abandoning her body; if he hadn’t killed her, she would have killed herself, or Ruler could have killed her. The ending she got was pretty happy in fact, because she dies without being posessed, grateful with Rider’s actions and in peace with the words he dedicates her: “we’ll head to hell together… if you’re fine with a man like me”, and also his tears of sadness while he holds her in her arms and then both disappearing together… SOMETHING THE ANIME DIDN’T SHOW, UGH). 

No. Atalanta didn’t want to kill your waifu because she was “plain crazy” or “jealous”. She had her reasons and they’re more complicated than you think. I see a lot of people hating on Atalanta because Jeanne is a big fan favorite and while I do love Jeanne myself, it’s necessary to understand/know Atalanta’s reasons for her hatred to her. 

That’s what the anime failed to do. While the novel gave us the chance to emphathyze with Atalanta and her growing feelings of hatred, giving us full insight of what was going through her head and why she was going to do what she did, the anime only showed her being “attacked by children, then coming back with a black arm, then said black arm disappears out of the sudden and now she wants to kill Jeanne because children”. 

I’m not trying, with this post, to excuse Atalanta’s actions, though, because she did a lot of things wrong, yet I’d like people to understand why she did this.

I hope it makes sense because I’m falling asleep here.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 20

20/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 4.7k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

I now present to you a chapter that is filled with more angst than Chris Carter could ever dream of, and for that, I am truly sorry. 

Scully and Mulder's foray into domesticity with Emily is interrupted by the past catching up to them. Faced with despair, they cling even tighter to each other.

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

Scully is granted maternity leave, though it’s only for two weeks, which Missy let her know is “a piss-poor bargain.” And she knows this is true, but she also has more incentive to stay at her job than ever, so she’d like not to lose it. The fact that advocating for herself and her child would mean risking her job is a mess in itself, but one lone woman can’t be expected to take down the patriarchy, and besides, she’s already tried and failed. 

As for she and Mulder, they hide their flirtation in plain sight. Mulder’s perpetually present in body or spirit, but his behavior never reveals anything more than it did before. Every morning he swings by to say hi, brings Scully coffee and a bagel with full-fat cream cheese, and checks if Emily’s picked up any new words. Personally, he’s working on “alien” and if you ask him, she’ll get it soon. She knows that it refers to her UFO stuffie, so sounding out the letters can’t be far behind, much to her mother’s dismay.

On Wednesday of the first week, he shows up at 6pm with takeout carbonara from a local Italian joint. His presence makes every Scully girl happy, but it makes one in particular the happiest, and Melissa realizes that there are definitely things her sister has failed to mention. She doesn’t question it, but watches with glee as the situation unfolds. 

After that first night, Mulder keeps coming back with dinner and refuses to let either sister shoulder the cost. On Friday, he stays for a movie too and gets to participate in Emily’s nightly tucking-in ritual (a tickle on the left foot, a tickle on the right foot, and a big smooch on the forehead). 

Saturday afternoon, he joins them for a stroller push through the park, earning some serious side-eye from Scully when he suggests that they stop at the playground because, according to the mama bear, “Em can only take six steps at a time, Mulder.” So instead they buy hotdogs from a vendor and eat them on a bench, Emily sandwiched between her mother, her aunt, and her...Mulder. They couldn’t ask for more.

That night, Mulder hangs around after dinner because what else is he gonna do? Go home and watch old baseball games until he falls asleep? A new leaf has been offered to him, and he’s gotta turn it. 

He’s baffled when, upon announcing that it’s Emily’s bathtime, Scully goes to the kitchen and switches on the sink. 

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What, your mother never washed you in the sink when you were a baby?” 

“Not that I know of...I have a hard time envisioning myself ever fitting in a sink.”

Scully scoffs. “I forget. You were a Vineyard boy.” 

Before he can come up with a smart response to that (as if there actually is one), Missy pipes up. “Oh, I bet you were the kid that took baths with your mother,” she teases. “Care to confirm or deny?”

“If I did I blocked it out of memory, thank god,” he testifies. 

Having spread a towel on the counter, Scully strips Emily down and perches the girl on her hip. She sticks her hand under the faucet. 

“That’s not too hot, do you think?” she asks Missy, who tests it as well.

“That should be fine.”

Mulder joins in too, and immediately regrets it. He shrinks away from the water, shaking droplets all over the room. “Jesus, Scully! Are you trying to boil her?”

“Babies lose heat quickly because of their body surface to weight ratio,” she says matter-of-factly. “They’re more susceptible to the cold.”

“I think the cold will be the least of her worries,” Mulder quips.

“If you really think it’s too hot, I’ll turn it down…” There’s a concerned crease beneath her eyes, and it makes Mulder feel bad about his joking.

“No, no, you know what you’re doing,” he assures her. “You’re her mother.”

As she lowers Em into the sink, Scully’s heart twinges. Her. A mother. How many times will she have to hear this before it stops feeling like news to her? 

One week and bathtime has already become routine. Missy fills a plastic cup and pours it gently over her niece, the water cascading down Em like she is nature’s own. Scully soaps her palms, then glides over her daughter’s skin with such care that its memory may blight any future affection Em is graced with. And then another waterfall, and the gentle brush of a wash cloth against eyes and nose. 

Scully squeezes a penny’s worth of baby shampoo into her hand, looks to Mulder. “Come on, get in here. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?” she says with a smirk.

He smirks back and shakes his head as she lifts his open palm and shrinks her accumulation to a dime. “Although, technically I am getting my hands cleaner…”

She boops him right on the nose with a shampooed finger. He laughs.

Missy smiles. Oh, to see destiny play out right in front of you. “Someone’s cracking dad jokes,” she points out, unable to resist. This observation is much too on-the-nose for the pair (quite literally for Mulder), who simultaneously blush but say nothing.

Mulder wipes the shampoo from his nose and plants it on Emily’s head, joining his partner in making soapy circles over the girl’s tuft of strawberry hair. Scully’s full attention is directed toward her daughter. As soon as the lather is sufficient, she dons the lifted lilt of motherhood. “Okay, time to rinse! Missy, will you do the honors?”

Missy turns the faucet, fills the cup, and lets it flow over Emily. Mulder and Scully wash their hands off in the stream. 

And as Scully leans for the towel, a splash of red dirties its fresh white surface. Mulder notices it first. He points at his partner’s porcelain face. “Scully, you’re bleeding.”

Her hand shoots to her nose. Sure enough, it stains her fingers. “Shit.” She turns away, goes for a tissue. “I haven’t had nosebleeds since I was fourteen,” she tells them, as if that invalidates this one. She wipes away a glob of blood, her stomach turning. “Missy--” her voice shakes involuntarily, “--will you dry Em off?”

“Uh-huh.” She nudges Mulder. “Will you grab a new towel from the linen closet?” she whispers, not wanting to further upset her sister.

Mulder goes off without a word, and Missy squeezes out Em’s hair as best she can. “What a pretty girl!” she gushes. “All clean!”

“Yee!” Emily throws her little fists in the air, injecting joy back into the room. 

“Time to put your PJs on, and get a tickle, tickle, smooch.”

Mulder scrambles back in with a new towel, skirting around Scully, who remains occupied with her own situation. He slides the soiled towel away and helps Missy swaddle Em. Mulder ruffles the little girl’s hair, and she laughs like a music box. 

“Mol-dy.” She spits it out in halves, as if she’s been rehearsing. 

Mulder’s eyes water with recognition. “Mulder? Mul-der? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Moldy,” the girl declares again, certain of herself.

Missy adjusts Em on her hip, smiles at Mulder. “Looks like you’re Moldy now.”

Mulder bites his lip to hide his overwhelming delight. “Yeah, I...I never thought I'd be so happy to be called moldy.”

Next thing he knows, Scully is at his shoulder with a tissue stuffed up her nostrils. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Em called me Moldy,” he tells her, full of satisfaction.

“Oh.” It comes out relatively unimpressed, but really, she’s just distracted. “Missy, will you get a diaper on her before there’s an accident? I would but I’m still--” She gestures to her nose. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Missy smiles at the baby in her arms. “PJ time, Em!” They go off toward the bedroom, a happy pair.

As soon as Em is out of sight, Mulder spirals toward his partner, panic-stricken. The glee of moments ago has evaporated. 

“Are you okay?” He touches her hair, shoulders, and the familiar small of her back, unsure of where he should land. 

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” Her grip on his elbows--keeping his hands firmly placed on her waistline--suggests otherwise. 

“You’ve got to see a doctor,” he pleads. “This could be...”

“This could be what, Mulder?” The steel in her blue eyes is a death grip. She’s never liked being told the obvious. 

“Scully…” He sighs, rubs his neck, wills her to say what they both know. When she doesn’t, he takes his hands off her and wrings them together. “The Mufon women...they said it would happen to all of them eventually.” He’s careful not to lump Scully in with their group. 

“And what do they know?” she retorts. “One of them was sick. One.”

“Okay, well, don’t you think it’s better to be safe than sorry?” he reasons. “You have Emily to look out for now.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “Don’t guilt trip me. It’s a nosebleed. Those happen all the time for completely benign reasons.”

“Yeah, but they don’t happen to you. You just said--you haven’t had one since you were fourteen.”

She clenches her jaw. He’s right, and she’s playing the fool. His position is the one she would take if this were anyone other than herself. She’s gonna have to lose this fight with as much grace as possible.

“Fine. I’ll get it checked out, but they’re gonna think I’m insane for coming in because of one nosebleed.”

“That’s a nice change of pace--you being the insane one for once.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants me to go, so you’re not out of the woods.”

“Good, I’ve finally got some company!”

Scully smiles in spite of herself. “Yes, yes you do.”

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

It happens very quickly, as most calamities of life can be said to. This gives it the unreal quality of a nightmare that might soon be woken up from, if there is any justice in the world.

Scully snags a doctor’s appointment for three days after the initial nosebleed. By the time she walks into the waiting room, one nosebleed has quadrupled into four, and her minor concern has snowballed into abject terror. 

Margaret Scully drove into the city to watch Emily so Missy could join her sister. Scully insisted that she would go alone, but Missy wouldn’t accept this. She threatened to tell Mulder the details of the appointment if Dana didn’t let her go, and that was enough to earn her a spot in the passenger seat. Scully can’t take the thought of Mulder witnessing the worst--let alone her reaction to the worst. 

And so it goes something like this: they are taken to an exam room, at which point Scully explains her situation to a nurse, including that she has recently learned she is at high risk for cancer. The nurse assures her that such a diagnosis is highly unlikely, but makes a note for the doctor. The doctor comes in with knitted eyebrows and listens to Scully describe the aftermath of her abduction experience with a heavy emphasis on the convoluted but substantial claims of the Mufon women. She asks if Scully has had any other symptoms, to which Scully replies that it’s hard to tell because she has an infant in the house and thus, a marked lack of sleep. 

The doctor laughs, but it’s not a haha laugh, more of an I feel your pain. She agrees that the women’s claims are concerning, but tells her patient not to fret. They’ll take all the precautions, run any test that might assuage her worries. There’s a quip about how it’ll be on the government’s dime since it covers Scully’s insurance, and then the doctor leaves to order an MRI. 

A full body MRI, which Scully has never had, and which she hoped she would never require. There’s no deeper sickness than one that cannot be pinpointed, and no greater fear than of the unknown turning into the worst case scenario. 

The MRI is completed that same day. As she slides into the machine, Scully thinks of Betsy Hagopian and wonders how she’s doing. It has been many months since she stood outside an exam room and watched Betsy enter one of these. Has fate been kind to her?

For a few minutes, her world is limited to the mere inches between her face and this life-saving yet life-ruining contraption. It is noisy and sometimes bright and altogether disorientating. She is glad when it’s over. 

The images return almost immediately, and maybe it would all have been okay if Scully weren’t trained in radiology herself, if she wasn’t able to recognize the glaring speck of light in her nasal cavity for what it is. But that one glance is all she needs to know that waiting by the phone isn’t an option. 

“It’s a tumor, isn’t it?” she blurts as the radiologist tries to escort her and Melissa from the room. “In the nasal cavity. I have a M.D. I saw.”

“Your doctor will call with the results,” the radiologist insists, standing by the open doorway.

“No, no, you can’t do this to me,” Scully sputters. “I know what I saw, and I don’t have any time to waste.” Her eye twitches in a combination of stress and anger. “I have an infant daughter.”

The radiologist sighs, pity on top of pity. “Perhaps your doctor will talk it through with you now.”

“Yes. Please.”

And it is talked through, though there’s no need to make it complicated: nasopharyngeal carcinoma. Inoperable, and just barely in the realm of treatable. That’s the kicker, the coyote in the pasture, the cloud covering the sun. In the words of Scully’s doctor, it is auspiciously rare. And in Scully’s brain, it is the bottom she’s been expecting to drop out from under since she held her daughter in her arms.

Melissa drives home. The sisters cannot fathom how they will tell their mother. Cannot fathom ruining her blissful time with the granddaughter she’s just met. When they turn onto their street, Scully swallows hard and coughs on her own spit. “Will you do something for me?” 

Missy looks over, eager to do anything she can, yet terrified by the possibility of the request.

“Will you take me to Mulder’s?” Scully mumbles. “I would just take the car but...I can’t face mom right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

Missy bites her lip. “And what am I supposed to tell mom when she asks where you are?”

“The truth,” Scully says curtly. “She doesn’t need the backstory.”

Missy drives past their building, though she’s not completely sold on her sister’s reasoning. “Don’t you think she might wonder why you aren’t coming home to your daughter?”

“I know she’ll wonder, Melissa, I know all of this,” Scully snaps because she needs to. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Missy’s voice is barely perceptible. I don’t care; she knows how low her sister has to be to say those words. 

They complete the drive in silence, Scully biting her nails--a habit which she has never possessed, and perhaps just acquired. The car idles as Missy pulls up to the curb of Mulder’s building. 

“I can pick you up when you need it,” she tells her sister as she pulls herself out of the car. “I’ll bring Em.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Scully says, closing the passenger door and edging toward the building. Missy hears a thanks float toward the car, then her sister is gone like a teenage girl embarrassed by her mother.

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

They sit on Mulder’s couch, muted. Words cannot fathom the injustice of this situation, nor can they suffice as empathy. Their hands are clasped together, a throughline of strength between them. This is what they need now; the most primitive language of all.

Scully’s watery eyes brush Mulder’s face. His own eyes, more pained than usual, look into hers. Without a word, she drapes an arm around her partner’s shoulders and scoots into his lap. He is surprised but not distressed. What else is left for them, now?

She is tiny, so tiny. And she is his. 

Their eyes meet once again, speaking in tongues. Scully nods, and then Mulder does too. This is it. This is it.

Permission granted at last, Scully’s lips travel to her partner’s jawline. The first time her lips have touched his body, and this is where they go. She is a constant box of wonders, a fortune he can never predict. Her lips are much like he has fantasized they would be: wondrously soft and silky, stroking him like they have always meant to be there. Yet he couldn’t have imagined the urgency with which they burrow into his skin. As if she’s making a mental map of his bone structure. He never expected that she would want him this much. 

His hands find her hips and grip the cotton of her shirt between his fingers. It is enough to tear her away from his flesh. Mission accomplished. His breath travels past her ear, hitting her neck. It is shallow and warm as he breathes her name. Her real name, the one her family calls her. She breathes his own back to him, like a bird responding to a mating call.

She feels his lips on her neck, wet and aching. It feels like God. This is the most blasphemous thought she has ever had. She throws her head back, exposing the whole of her skin to him. What is holiness, if not this moment?

He showers her in tattoo kisses, and she lets him, she lets him, she lets him. This is not just what she wants, but what she needs. No one will save her now, she knows this. So she has decided not to be saved. 

Her shirt ripples as he clutches it. “May I?” He is breathy, awe-struck. 

“Only if I can do the same.” Always about equality, his Scully is. He lifts his arms, lets her strip him first. He is fraught with the temptation to feel insecure, inadequate, but this is not about him--this is all for her. There is no time to dwell on this anyway. Scully takes in the sight, then puts her own arms up with a hint of impatience. He pulls her shirt over her head, and goosebumps adorn her as the air hits her bare stomach. 

It is unimaginable, the significance of this moment. All Mulder can do is keep going, lest the emotion hit him and he find himself blubbering all over her. His hands travel her body...it is slender and white, but so solid, so strong. Cartilage forming ligaments forming joints connecting bones. And her skin, stretching over her hips and framing it all. The masterpiece that is Dana Katherine Scully. 

He fears for the day she will cave in on herself. Already, one of his hands covers her whole rib cage. Right now he can cradle her body comfortably against his own, but the day will come when a single cautious touch will crush her, and his heart along with it. He wants her as she is now forever.

Seeing that he wants to pamper her, Scully lets herself be pampered. He showers the taut length of her collar bone in kisses. The vibration resonates throughout her bone structure, and already she can feel him in places she’s only fantasized about having him. He is going to heal me, she thinks. If anyone could heal her in any way, it would be him doing this. 

She shows her gratitude by kneading circles into his soft tissues, so tense from all their days chasing ghosts. The sinew relaxes beneath the pads of her fingers, and she feels like she has solved the most important X-File of all. 

Mulder traces his way along her spine. He has never touched her here, nor ever even fantasized about it, and there is an erotic tension--like a needle about to drop on a record--that neither one of them could have seen coming. Inevitably, his hands converge at the hooks of her bra. She arches her back in approval. He slides the hooks away from each other, and both of them feel the release. She shimmies off the garment before he can pull it out of the way. No secrets, not anymore.

Mulder didn’t expect to cry and is aware that most women wouldn’t take that as a positive sign, but seeing her, like this, knowing what they both know, tears feel like the least he could offer up. She is...beautiful is too weak a word to describe it. He needs to invent a new word to capture the essence of his emotions, the reverence with which he views her. He is not a religious man, but he will worship her until the end of time. 

He has known this, intuitively, for a while, and now he’s putting it into practice. He wants to do everything he can for her, give her everything she wants. Yet he doesn’t know how to, and this scares him. She has always slipped through his fingers, always turned on a dime just when he thought he figured her out. Tonight is no exception. How was he to know that he’d be on his couch with a half-naked Scully in his lap?

He fears the tears will offend her, so he nuzzles into her heartspace, his nose pressed against the heart that is--by the grace of that God she worships--still beating. His lips meet the plush of her left breast. 

Where does he go from here? The dusty routine he’s used with other women--the few who have given themselves to him or let him hand himself over--is not worthy enough for Scully. He could never touch Scully in the ways he’s touched the women before because she is not like the women before. There is no mere giving or taking here, no detached exchange of commodities or pleasure for the sake of pleasure. This is survival. They are symbiotically keeping each other alive.

A drop of water hits Scully’s skin, slides down the curvature of her breast. She shudders. A tear. That’s what it is, she realizes. Mulder is crying. It’s a baptism of unfortunate proportions. 

She cups her hand against his chin, tilts it up so his bleary eyes meet hers. She rests her forehead against his. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She kisses each eye closed, his lids fluttering beneath her lips. “It’s okay.” 

His breathing steadies. He is quite certain that it is not okay, that it never will be, but he listens to her, lets himself pretend. 

Hands still on his chin, she careens their lips together. His mouth on hers; a godsend. They caress each other for a moment, then Scully opens wide, and Mulder does too. They are reflecting. 

If Scully could compress herself, pushing every particle of air out of her lungs and into his, she would. As a sort of thank you, for everything. For what he has done, what is doing, what he will do...She will never have to live without him. She knows this now, and it makes this easier. But he will have to live without her, and so she must make sure he gets the memories he needs to carry on. This is how grief works, she’s acquainted with it. These moments, these feelings, these bated breaths and tender touches, will be his survival mechanism for awhile. Until the day when he can throw them off and go on without her ghost. It will happen one day, and she will be glad that he made it. 

She feels him pressing against her stomach, which is certainly not where she wants him. “Fox…” Her hands hover above his belt. She unzips his fly first, her hand warm against him. He is dizzy with want as her fingers curl against his belt buckle, loosening it with confidence. In a sweeping gesture,  she pushes his jeans off his hips, exposing him. The thrill she feels, seeing him big and bare in front of her, is a new kind of livelihood. She’s overcome with the desire to take him in her mouth--and that has never, never been her first instinct. She ducks down, but he stops her.

“Dana, no. You.”

She doesn’t need to hear it twice. She sucks in a breath, arches her back, and slides onto him. Slowly, gasping as they go. 

“Am I hurting you?”

Scully shakes her head, lips parted. It has been nothing like this before...nothing so fulfilling. She crosses her ankles, binding them completely together at last. 

Unity triumphs against the self, their union abolishing the world’s insistence on the solitude of the individual. This is what it’s about, isn’t it? Being joined, not only in spirit, but in body? Knowing that whatever horrors are to come, he will feel them as she does. Her dwindling will be his too, her losses an equally empty space within him. 

She is teetering on the edge of something she can never come back from. She is not afraid. 

She careens her fingernails into his back as the pressure builds. If it doesn’t come to a head, she’ll die right here, she thinks. 

She barely registers the cathartic noises coming out of her, though they give Mulder great delight. He thought she would be quiet, and the fact that she’s not trying to hold anything in--after holding everything in for so goddamn long--is the most moving part of the experience. 

And they want this to go on forever, but they want the release. Mulder swivels his hips into her, bringing them both closer to climax. Scully curls against him. 

“I’m sorry,” she cries into his ear.

“What?” He nearly pulls out of her, fearing that she’s hurt. 

“No, no--” She scrambles to stay with him. “This--” she pants “--is so good.” She lowers her lips onto his as confirmation, then speaks into his open mouth. “I’m just sorry to be the one to go.”

He frames her ribcage, thumbs arching toward her belly button. “Fuck, honey...don’t say that, don’t even think that…”

They won’t linger on the choice of pet name, the tenderness with which it settles over her, nor the absolute devastation of her words. There is simply no time. 

Scully hides her face in his neck as the wave breaks over both of them. There is no world anymore, only the two of them on this couch. They have forsaken the physical realm, ascending to heaven in time with their heartbeats. 

Mulder understands then what his reciprocal means when she says she needs proof to believe. Now that he’s been there and felt it, he knows that heaven exists, and holy shit, what does that mean for the life he has lived and the time he has left? What did it mean for Samantha?...What will it mean for Scully?

They collapse into each other, a melted mass of skin and bone. Two becoming one, becoming two again. Mulder strokes the back of his partner’s head, presses his lips to her temple. Her chest rises against him in jagged breaths.

“You are the only proof I’ll ever need that this life is worth it,” he murmurs. “Just you.”

Scully looks up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He kisses them away and wraps his arms around her. “I don’t know if you got the memo, but I love you, Dana Scully.”

She rests her cheek against his. “I love you too, F--Mulder.”

Mulder chuckles, his amusement shaking both of them. Scully closes her eyes and snuggles into him. He puts his hand over her heart, feels it beating steadily into his palm, and longs for it to stay like that forever.

[chockfullofsecrets]

There is hardly any tickle content for Critical Role. Your fics are a gift. What are your headcanons for the Mighty Nein?

Aw, thank you anon! I definitely spent a lot of time reading the existing fic over and over again before I decided to try making my own contributions.

Headcanons under the cut because I have a lot of them! I’d love to know what you think as well!

i can’t believe that when I tried to organize these I spent a solid thirty seconds going “but there’s - should there be nine? am i missing one?” i’m a rube and the mighty nein would steal all my money without hesitation

Fjord

you know how Jester keeps feeling up Fjord’s abs to check for the Uk’otoa orbs he ingested? canonically ticklish bb

Fjord isn’t really comfortable with laughing out loud or even opening his mouth too wide because people gave him so much shit about his teeth when he was growing up, so he doesn’t like to be teased about his smile, but everything else is fair game - how weirdly deep his laugh is (good luck disguising your accent under a Texan twang when you’re laughing your head off, buddy), how bad he is at escaping, you know the drill

Jester used to just tickle him randomly to make him smile until she got blindsided by the immensity of her crush and stopped for a while

Fjord is Too Good For All These Shenanigans right up until he tackles whoever’s been messing with him lately to the ground and makes them scream (see, this fic). he’d try to get Nott as revenge for all of her heckling, but he’s pretty sure she would murder him

Beau

she’s the most strategic ler, and it’s terrifying. If she pins you, there’s no escape. She probably has all your worst spots and the best techniques to exploit them written down somewhere. look upon her works and despair

she’s fairly ticklish under her arms and down her ribs a bit, but good luck getting there before she decks you

sometimes if one of the Nein is having a bad day she’ll awkwardly try to talk to them about it, give up, and tickle them until they’re sufficiently distracted

Nott

not(t) the best ler - her chaotic spirit says yes, but her Giant Fuckoff Goblin Claws say no

that being said, once she’s a halfling again? run

as Nott, she’s also wrapped in a bunch of fabric at all times and kind of hates her goblin body - not a lot of lee opportunities there either. 

the back of her neck is pretty bad though! Yeza used to tickle her there when she would start saying bad things about herself and it’s a strategy that she’s extremely tempted to extend to the rest of the Nein

will absolutely hang around while someone else is being wrecked and make fun of them

Jester

oh, Jester. i’m going to say this about literally every lady in the Nein but what a nightmare ler. stronger than she looks, mischievous enough to attack without provocation, and the teasing - oh, man, the teasing is brutal

uses her tail for sneak attacks. like how Laura will turn to Sam or Travis and just start poking them but with a whole extra limb.

also super ticklish and doesn’t even try to resist, will pretty much climb in your lap for tickles and squeal her head off in a way that’s just a little bit indecent

(unless she’s sad, and then all of a sudden she’s nowhere to be found until she pops up her usual sunshine self. Beau’s working on it)

her hips are probably her worst spot, right under where she used to keep her Traveler symbol. sometimes she can feel ghostly fingers brushing at her when the Traveler wants her to pay attention to something.

Yasha

also an excellent/horrible ler if only because  she’s so gentle that it makes everything feel ten times more ticklish and refuses to acknowledge that she’s doing it on purpose

not too familiar with tickling until she met Molly

her laugh is almost entirely silent but she curls up in a ball as best she can to protect her worst spots (ribs + thighs) and it’s adorable

Molly

Molly is the Worst because he has zero boundaries. eighty percent of his attacks end with his lee intent on killing him.

he’s the master of sneaking up behind someone and whispering something teasy into their ear and tickling them just badly enough to make them break and then acting like nothing happened

Molly’s back is so ticklish. if you try to trace his tattoos he’ll practically crumple to the ground and just start cackling

he and Jester will roll around like cats and poke at each other with their tails and Weaver help anyone who tries to make them be respectable citizens

Caduceus

by far the best at avoiding tickles when he doesn’t want them because his siblings are incorrigible and he has a Reputation To Maintain. he doesn’t exactly know what the reputation is, but he’s got one.

he’s also wildly touch-starved and if you catch him in the right mood (which Beau, Jester, and Caleb usually do) he would let you tickle him for hours

tickling his ears will make him giggle like crazy! his feet + palms are pretty bad too

he can do that thing Taliesin does where he runs his hands over his face for a second and is instantly back to perfect composure and it terrifies the rest of the Nein

pretty decent ler (also due to Sibling Nonsense), but prefers to let the rest of them go wild and heal anyone who got an elbow to the face after

Caleb

Caleb is honestly so good at disassociating from what he’s feeling that even though he really is ticklish it’s hard to make him laugh unless he’s pinned down + paying attention

you can definitely still get him to flinch and squirm a little if you mess with him while he’s reading though! it just takes the Nein a little while to figure out that they can get him a lot worse

the ribs under his book holsters are insanely ticklish and he’s lucky that he has like five layers protecting them

once he gets more comfortable with the rest of the group he starts playing the occasional magical prank during their downtime (see, the episode 90 bathrobe incident) and once his victim catches on they’ll tickle him silly until he drops the spell or just can’t concentrate on it anymore

ultimate gentle ler. he’ll zone out and trace the edge of Cad’s ear or Jester’s sides like he’s petting Frumpkin and look up almost surprised to see the pile of snickering lee laying next to him

if someone gets his worst spots he does that same big sitcom laugh as Liam and it’s infectious

[vinodiriso]

Mejika Nikki: The White Fang’s Last Howl.

Mejika Nikki (The Doe Journal) is an on-going series of stories that deals with crucial events in Yoshino’s story. You can navigate its tag here.

Yoshino couldn't think of anything. Her mind was a blank slab of marble, cold, unfeeling, dumb. Her eyes were open wide and fixed on the ground, but she saw nothing: her vision was past that world, spirited away to the realm of remembrance, of grievance.

Sakumo-sensei was dead. There wasn't a man alive able to kill him, so he’d taken his own life. A life he had spent serving Konohagakure to his fullest and for which he had paid the price. Yoshino hadn't been allowed in the room where they found the body. "Spare yourself this," Minato pleaded her that fateful night, when her eyes had looked even more possessed, her breath wild and frantic, "neither Tsume-san nor you deserve it."

She spent that night curled against the warm body of the last person left in the world whom she still cared about. Neither the Inuzuka nor the Yukinohana uttered a single word that night, each too busy walking through the flames of their personal hell: Haru's departure was a wound still too fresh for them to cope with, Sakumo's suicide felt quite literally like a knife in the back. They wouldn't have allowed his death to become about them, but it did feel personal, as if those other students of his had been too blind to realize their teacher's pain, the extent of his sorrow, as day after day he walked away from life. Survivor's guilt was eating away at their hearts already, wondering why he had resolved to this, why didn't he tell them what they could have done to help him, why couldn't they have seen it by themselves.

"Sakumo-sensei, is there something wrong?" "Why, no, Yoshino. I am just happy I could see you both in person after so long." “Are you turning sentimental on us, old man?" "Ah, Tsume, don't be mean. I’ve just missed my girls. I wish Haru could be here too."

"Are you ready?" Yoshino didn't even hear Tsume coming out of her house, Kuromaru showed his support by staying next to her. Her face was so pale, as if she hadn't rested a sole minute the night before. To be fair, neither Yoshino'd had.

The kunoichi tried to think as hard as she could, but her brain refused to cooperate. She was empty. She was spent. So she simply nodded, despondent and in wordless despair.

They walked side by side, never talking once, only the sound of their sandals and Kuromaru’s soft pads squashing the stone chippings accompanied them. It was a first for Tsume and Yoshino to go silent for so long, but every word uttered felt meaningless: those words should have been used on Sakumo to cheer him up, to quieten the screaming voices of anguish, dishonour and dismay which drove him to that insane resolution. But they had been spoken not, so those words deserved to die in their chest, like Sakumo had.

Konohagakure seemed eerie in its dormant state as they ghosted along its streets. It was little after dawn, so probably most of the village was still asleep, but it gave the gloomy impression that the entire population of Konoha was in mourning for the loss of such a great hero. There was a certain grey tint to the air itself, an ashen look that turned even the lively hearth of their home into a gathering of bereavement. Yoshino still could not think, of anything.

The graveyard was close to empty. A few shinobi were scattered across the meadow, Yoshino recognized Minato holding close a young, silver-haired boy. ‘Kakashi...’

Next to him, two other children, one with dark features and the Uchiha emblem on his vest, the other a girl with brown hair.

Yoshino felt eyes on herself and her companion and turned to meet Rou's frightening visage. His gargantuan, white ninrou, Kibone, swayed her tail drearily. He was back from Suna, then? she started thinking, before realising she didn't really care to know. There were few other people, some older folks she had never met and some other representative of her generation, but none could testify the place was crowded or the funeral attended.

"So he hasn't come," Tsume growled from her left, startling Yoshino. Who was she talking about? But again, as soon as her mind started formulating that thought, it stopped. It didn't want to work. It didn't want to know. If it had known, it would have acknowledged. If it had acknowledged, it would have made it real.

Yoshino and Tsume walked to the front rows and stood there, eyes fixed on the tomb just a few steps before them. Yoshino turned to observe Kakashi: he was crying and Minato was massaging his shoulder with a light hand and a tenderness Yoshino did not anticipate from such a ruthless ninja. The girl was touching his other shoulder, while the Uchiha boy just looked at him in grievance.

One sudden awareness hit her like a hammer on the back of her skull: she had yet to shed a single tear from the announcement of Sakumo's death. She had stopped eating, barely drank, laid wide-awake in her bed all night long, couldn't focus on anything, but she hadn't cried. She did realize it, yet she couldn't do anything more, because that would have meant to think, and she didn't want to think. She didn't want to think.

The solemn celebration started and carried on quietly, without making too much noise. Yoshino wasn't paying it any attention, and she would have kept doing so if Tsume didn't whisper in pure bewilderment: "...Sandaime-sama."

Yoshino spun her hear around to see as rustling murmurs started animating the sombre assembly. In the central gap, left unoccupied to allow free passage, stood the imposing, red-and-white-clad figure of the Hokage.

"Thank you, Hiruzen-sama..." there was a trembling unaccounted for in Tsume's breath. Her tattooed cheeks became lined with fresh tears. She sobbed, pain hastily gushing from the fissure in her heart. Kuromaru rubbed his big, canine head against her outer thigh to show empathy towards his owner.

The Hokage being there was retribution against all the spewers and scandal mongers that had gossiped and sullied their teacher's name. ‘So this is who she was talking about before’.

Yoshino couldn't bring herself to be as happy or comforted about Sarutobi's presence: he should have done something to help Sakumo, to protect him. Failing a mission, no matter how crucial, shouldn't have robbed him of all his achievements and destroyed his worth in front of the village. The Hokage had come to naught as long as defending Sakumo was regarded, and now his body was cold beneath the dirt and the earth.

‘Why did you have to save your comrades, Sakumo-sensei? Why didn't you just complete the mission and then come home? Why did you rob yourself of your own life?’

"Hi, everyone, my name is Hatake Sakumo and I shall be your sensei from this moment on! Why don't we start off by introducing yourselves to your new teammates? Say your name and what is your dream." "SURE! I am Inuzuka Tsume from the Inuzuka Clan, and this is Kuromaru. We are partners! My dream is to become the toughest kunoichi in Konoha and kick everyone's ass, so don't make me mad!" "Haha, I like your enthusiasm! Who is next?" "My name is Hyuuga Haru, I am a member of the Hyuuga Clan. My dream is to become strong enough to protect the people I love and this village whole!" "Very noble of you, Haru. You are the only one left, little one." "Mh. My name is Yukinohana Yoshino. My home used to be Yukinohana Shokumin, or what's left of it. I-I don't think I have a real dream..." I just want to survive and be happy, one day. "It's okay not to have clear ambitions at the start. Your path will be revealed to you when the time comes, Yoshino."

‘It isn't clear yet, Sensei. I don't know yet what I want from my life. What did you want from yours? Why did you take away your chance to be happy? Why didn't you let us help?’

"Yoshino," Tsume's voice was soft in ways her best friend had rarely ever heard. "It's time to go."

"Mh."

An intense gust of wind dragged and crushed the flowers Kakashi and the girl –Rin, her name was Rin– had laid on Sakumo's grave. She saw the petals get ripped off, dancing in the cold air, and then collapse, powerless, to the ground. ‘Not even in death will you accept the gratitude and love of those who were close to you, Sensei? Are we so undeserving of your benevolence? Did we fail you so, Sakumo-sensei?’

The attendants to the funeral dispersed a couple of minutes after the service ended. Minato escorted his team out of the graveyard, Rou gazed at Yoshino and Tsume, it was clear he didn't want to leave the latter alone, but he made the wise choice not to meddle just yet and give them some more time to spend in one another's company.

Tsume looked more at peace with herself on their walk back than what she did on their way there. She was still desperately sad, of course, but there was no more hopelessness in her eyes, rather a –shaky, unstable, feeble, but still some sort of– resolve. Yoshino coveted her strength of mind, her will to keep fighting.

Tsume was likely aware of that, so she told the Yukinohana: "you know what Sakumo-sensei would have told us, Shishi. 'Don't cry for what you can't change, strive to improve what comes after so that your pain won't be in vain'. I won't let his death be in vain, Shishi, and neither will you."

Yoshino truly did want to believe Tsume, but she just couldn't find the energy to do so. Her heartbeat felt shallow, her sight blurred and her touch irresponsive. There was a lulling sense of meaninglessness in that narcolepsy of the soul, where the entire world was absent and noiseless because everyone had turned their back on them. ‘Sakumo-sensei… how lonely were you?’

“Sakumo-sensei… you never told us your dream.” “Haha, I didn’t back then, did I? I want to leave this world a better place than what I found it, for my son and the people I love. This is why I strive to be the best ninja I can be, not to win my battles for my personal pride… to make sure that, one day, Kakashi won’t have to fight them himself.”

Yoshino looked up at the sky. “There’s no clouds today. The sky is so gray.”

“Damn, I can’t believe they actually did it in broad daylight,” a ninja they passed on a secondary alleyway to reach Inuzuka Compound hissed to his friend, “they were lucky none went there to give that bastard what he deserved.”

Yoshino halted, Tsume and her were a few meters from them now. “Say that again.”

The ninja turned back to look at her, a complacent grin on his idiotic face. “Why, what are you gonna do otherwise, you skin and bones? You gonna tickle me to death?”

“Say that again,” Tsume laid it on thick with her barking, her face tilted a bit to eye him. Even with her earnest aspirations, Tsume was still Tsume, and Tsume was not to be provoked. Kuromaru growled with her, feeling the pure murderous intent radiating from the two kunoichi.

“They. Were. Lucky. None. Went there. To give that bastard. What he deserved.”

Tsume and Yoshino sprung to action on the very same instant. The Inuzuka young woman started forming the hand seals for Shikyaku, Kuromaru dashed next to her, a black, muddled stain for how fast he was running, and filled the dense, electricity-sparkling air with his blood-frenzied snarl. Yoshino too was advancing rapidly, she had no weapons at her disposal because of her mourning attire, but someone had left a spare wooden board leaned against a fence: it was chipped, rough and too large to be used effectively as a bō, but she would have done with what she had got.

While Tsume squatted to hurl herself against their enemy, Yoshino spun her makeshift staff in her hand to empower her subsequent blow with even more might. She was not even a step from dealing her strike when she felt a tight grip on her waist cutting her breath short, her armed hand squeezed tight to stop her from hitting. At her right, a very tall individual held Tsume for her throat, claw-like nails scraping against the skin of her neck and drawing blood. ‘Rou...’

Kuromaru too had been stopped, his neck bitten down and his limbs pinned to the ground by some larger ones. Kibone, Rou’s ninja she-wolf, immobilized Kuromaru completely, a testament to her raw strength given also by her ridiculous size. The ninken’s pain was clear, stuck as he was into Kibone’s fangs and claws, but that one-eyed terrifying muzzle was still contorted into a ghoulish expression.

The shinobi Tsume and Yoshino tried to attack grew pale realising he had been saved from a very painful – and dangerous – experience. The Yukinohana never stopped glaring at him with a fiery scowl. She was still angry. Her heart still sought revenge, the bitter taste in her mouth reclaiming blood to wash the shaming insult away.

“Rou! Let me go!” Tsume yelled, trying to kick the Jounin in his shins. Yoshino glanced behind her and saw a Kage Bunshin of Rou restricting her. “LET ME GO!”

“Quit it, Tsume!” Rou screamed back at her. “What were you two trying to do, huh?! Kill him?!”

“Were you following us, Rou?” Yoshino inquired, she forced herself to keep her voice low. No movements of her prey went unnoticed as he swerved, nervous and scared, not knowing whether to hold up to his earlier affront and risk a real assault, or to deny it by running away and lose face in front of his comrade.

“Yeah, daisy girl, I was following you. And thank fuck I was, you two were about to make a mess! Tsume, what happened?!”

“That son of a bitch badmouthed Sakumo-sensei… on the day of his memorial… that huge bastard! I will kill him!” Tsume shrieked so loud she could crack a glass, she shook wildly in Rou’s binding grasp.

Rou sighed, his wild, white mane covered his countenance from Yoshino, but she would have betted in that same moment Rou was trying to bridle his own thirst for revenge; he was quite the ‘an eye for an eye’ type, and a passionate defender of responding to violence with violence, especially when those endangered were people he cared about. Moreover, he had a fervent belief in a code of his own – a code which exalted honour above most things. He couldn’t stand watching someone rob another of their honour.

“It’s not right, Tsume,” he spat from beneath his clenched teeth. “Sakumo-san… didn’t die for this. He didn’t die for you two to pick fights on his behalf, he didn’t die for you to turn bitter and resentful!”

Yoshino was taken aback by Rou’s statement. “I want to leave this world a better place than what I found it, for my son and the people I love. This is why I strive to be the best ninja I can be, not to win my battles for my personal pride… to make sure that, one day, Kakashi won’t have to fight them himself.”

“What do you know?! What do you know about Sakumo-sensei?! Nothing!” Tsume cried out, her anguish threatening to crack through once more as she glowered at Rou. “YOU KNOW NOTHING OF HIM! LIKE ANYONE ELSE IN THIS VILLAGE! YOU KNOW NOTHING!”

Rou stared her down. “I know the person he helped raise, and he didn’t raise you to be scum that attacks a fellow shinobi for a futile reason! Grow up, Tsume!”

His shouting took all the vigour away from Tsume as she, once more, broke up crying. Yoshino envied her bitterly, she wished she could have found an outlet for her pain as healthy as those tears, but she couldn’t, she didn’t have enough strength to shatter just to build herself back up. Not once more.

“Yoshino, Tsume, Haru. In your life it will be asked of you to make difficult choices. It’s the destiny of every ninja. Whatever the circumstance… always follow your conscience. Living with a dirty conscience is hell, it’s not living. Sometimes a hard choice is a right choice. Remember this.”

“Kuromaru… at ease,” at last, Tsume gave in. Then – and just then – Rou released his hold on her neck and put his arms around her. As soon as Kuromaru stopped struggling, Kibone let him go and started licking the wounds she inflicted upon the smaller animal. Yoshino looked at the scene and all of a sudden she realized she was alone. Alone in her pain, alone in her bewilderment, alone in her shock, alone in her loss.

“SHISHI, NO!”

The Yukinohana jabbed her elbow in the clone’s ribs. A swing like that would have cracked some mean bone, for sure, in fact the Bunshin disappeared with a puff of smoke. She started running, as fast as her legs allowed, her throat torn apart by a distraught, furious scream, her momentum increased the second she swung the board behind her. Her chest was heavy with despair, with resignation.

‘If I don’t do this, Sensei, what will it be of me? If I don’t let this rage build inside me, it will just be more pain, again. I don’t want to suffer, Sensei. I am tired of suffering. I wish it all went away… I wish you were all with me still, Sensei. Hacchan. I am sorry. I can’t do this on my own.’

“YOSHINO, STOP!”

‘I don’t want to be alone anymore, Sensei.’

The kunoichi was halted abruptly, her improvised weapon a mere centimetre away from the guy’s head. She could not move, her entire body shuddered with tense muscles, yet she couldn’t take another step forward. She looked around, astounded, and noticed a black pool beneath her feet. A dark tendril spiked away from it, climbed back up the fence to her left, then up the side of a house, till eventually connecting with another figure.

“Thank fuck, Shikaku. That was one hell of a scare,” Rou commented, relieved.

Nara Shikaku was kneeling on the roof of that house, his hands united to form the secret seal for his clan’s signature jutsu, Kage Shibari. He stopped her with his shadow, that’s why she couldn’t move.

“Heh, just in time,” he smirked. Yoshino noticed that him too was in black clothes. Did he came to Sakumo-sensei’s funeral? “I was on my way back home when I heard screaming and I came to check. Glad I did.”

“Release me,” Yoshino commanded.

“No. If I do, you will crack that guy’s noggin open.”

“RELEASE ME!”

“None wanted Sakumo-san dead!” the Nara stated passionately. “It’s something we can’t change, it’s the reality we must accept. That anger inside of you is fair, you have every god-damn right to be angry, I would be. I am. But even if you beat that motherfucker to death, even if you beat up all of us, that’s not gonna make him come back and you know it. It’s just gonna get you in trouble and I know for a fact that’s not what your Sensei wanted, for either of you. Don’t insult his memory by forgetting the kinda man he was in life. He wouldn’t want it.”

“Yoshino, you more than Haru and Tsume know what it is like to suffer truly. You lost your home and your family, but you found within yourself the strength to start anew. You are like the flower you bear the name of: if snowdrops didn’t blossom through the cold snow, we would never know spring is coming our way. Never let bitterness spoil your heart. Promise me, Yoshino.”

“...release me.”

Shikaku observed her for a few seconds and established that his words had managed to calm her down enough. He loosened the hand seal, his stretched shadow hasted to return to its normal size.

“You, piece of shit,” the Nara’s voice was filled with disdain as he addressed the ninja that had started the whole fight. “Go die somewhere else before I come down there and choke you myself, you vermin.”

The two of them didn’t need him to say it twice. Screaming for their lives, they ran away and were soon nowhere to be seen.

Yoshino, able to move, observed her free hand. Her fingers were thin, her nails chipped in some parts, her knuckles bruised and filled with small scars never fully healed, her skin white as a cloud. Yet she could see her hand dripping with blood, blood of those she couldn’t save: Haru, Sakumo-sensei. She survived, but she wasn’t sure she could keep on living. What for? What was the meaning of all that? Why was she breathing? No. No. She couldn’t think. She promised herself she wouldn’t think. To think meant to acknowledge and to acknowledge meant to make it real.

But it was real. It was already too real.

‘None can save me, Sensei.’

The kunoichi threw the plank she was still holding all the way down the alley. It impacted against a wall and broke in two pieces. Yoshino was hit with the sudden realization she did want to kill that guy before. She hadn’t considered the implications until she saw that piece of wood abandoned on the side of the road.

“Shishi...” “I am going home.”

Tsume pushed Rou away gently and tried to reach for her friend’s wrist, but Yoshino vehemently pulled away. She didn’t want to hurt Tsume, but she could breathe no more. She needed to be alone. Maybe then her loneliness wouldn’t have felt so acute, so distant from the world around her.

“Leave me be, Tsu. I will be okay. Rou, take care of her, please.”

“Will do,” he said, holding Tsume’s hand in his. “Look after yourself too, Yoshino.”

She didn’t answer. She just walked away, her hazel eyes as grey as the sky above them.

Her last punch against the tree ended with a painful, loud crack. Yoshino fell to her knees, clutching her right hand to the chest: it was a broken knuckle, no way around it. Her entire body was burning, not only with fatigue, but also with unrestrained chakra: she could feel true fire circling through her body, the ache limitless with her muscles overstressed, her chakra not controlled, her leg tendon pulled.

Blood was smeared all across the tree’s dented bark. Blood was dripping down her hands, not wrapped with any sort of protection or bandage, probably some chippings had ended up inside her skin, under her now broken and hanging nails. She was beyond exhaustion, she felt like she could pass out any seconds now.

Yoshino yelled out in pain, a scream so intense and tormented it resembled the calling of a sorrowful demon. None could hear her there, she was alone. She was always alone.

“Sakumo-sensei… is war right?” “Oh, dear. Men invented Hell for those who invented the war, but I don’t think it’s a good enough punishment.” “What does it mean, Sakumo-sensei?” “Hell is supposed to be a place where all evil people go to when they die. Yet war doesn’t discriminate between good and bad… actually, it ends up killing too many good people instead of those who really deserve to die.”

‘You did not deserve to die, Sakumo-sensei. I am so sorry. Please, forgive me for not having done anything. Forgive me, Sensei.’

She could not cry, because to cry meant to suffer and she was not able to suffer any more. But she could feel rage for him, and have that rage fuel her in battle. She would have not taken her own life, she could not, but if she ended up dying in confrontation… there wasn’t a ninja able to help it, after all. To lose their life in combat.

Yoshino screamed again, the pain burning even brighter. Physical pain was better than spiritual. Physical pain would have gone away eventually, but a scarred soul remains scarred forever. Her soul was already scarred enough.

‘Sakumo-sensei… I am not as strong as you thought. I am a coward. I am worthless. If only I’d been there… if only I’d been stronger… but you’re dead now.’

A sob made her chest jolt up. Then another. ‘Don’t cry!’ It was too late. She had thought. She had acknowledged.

Now it was real.

“SAKUMO-SENSEI!”

[mychemicalficrecs]

!!!! could you rec some killjoys fics that actually include the girl? (so many dont :(((( ) just no waycest please n thank u

Sure!

The Killjoys and the Girl

measured out in miles by orphan_account, Gen, Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, 3k, Teen And Up Audiences. motorbaby learns how to drive.

Hugs Gimme Hugs by jedusaur, Gen, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Grace learns the lyrics to Queen's entire oeuvre when she's two, how to kill a drac when she's four and a half, and what a flush toilet is for when she's nine.

The Getaway Mile by strobelighted, Gen, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, and Grace have left the City Slums to live in the desert with Kobra Kid and Party Poison, but desert life doesn't sit so well with Fun Ghoul.

Family Always Comes Back For You by ChokolatteJedi, Gen, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. As she plays with the ball, she remembers the first time that Poison taught her how to make a Molotov cocktail

Sparrow by Go0se, Gen, 7k, Teen And Up Audiences. They never meant ‘dust angel’ literally, but apparently whatever Powers That Maybe do not give a fuck for their literality or lack of it. Five times the littlest Killjoys' wings were noticed.

Missile Kid by Psyche, Gen, 12k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. 'It wasn’t that she wanted to die exactly, because she didn't, not really. It was just that every single time she woke up she would wish so fervently that she hadn't. When she closed her eyes she would dream that she was safe in bed in Battery City. Her parents were in the other room and Luna, alive and safe, would sneak in to play with her and tell her stories. Then, without fail, she would wake and be hit with a sucker-punch of despair; realising that it wasn’t real. That it would never be real again. ' The zones, 2017. How Grace came to be a zonerunner.

Life Lessons with Ghoul and Grace by casesandcapitals, Gen, 2k, General Audiences. Grace needs a favor from Ghoul.

Four Killjoys and a Baby by forgoo, Gen, Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, Cherry Cola/Kobra Kid, 19k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. "We are not keeping a baby!" "How hard can it be?" The story of how four teenage outlaws became the guardians of a tiny helpless baby and then raised that baby to be the tiniest Killjoy, messiah of the Zones.

Make A Wish When Your Childhood Dies by Tempxtempx, Gen, 4k, General Audiences. "Yeah, that's it," Dr. D said to The Girl, wiggling the finger that she'd latched onto with her tiny hand. "You're okay now. We've got you. You're going to be just fine." Five times the Phoenix Witch crossed paths with The Girl, interspersed with four scenes from The Girl's life in between.

The Girl, Signing Off by Fame_Is_Now_Injectable (DaisukiRose), Gen, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. The year is 2079, and I can honestly say that the zones hold no more surprises. The draculoids move in a pattern, the motorbabies are all the same, and the radio station still pumps out the same slaughtermatic sounds that it did when I was growing up. Jet Star told me that Dr. Death Defying had ran the radio station for as long as he could remember, and when he returned to the Phoenix Witch, Show Pony and I ran it. That was after the Killjoys were exterminated by the dracs, naturally, and I had been on my own for a few years by then. Nineteen year old motorbabies don’t usually survive the zones alone, but I was never alone. I had Show Pony, I had the wind and the sand and the Joshua trees. You were never alone, if you really looked.

Like my mother's by queen_of_shanath, Gen, 784 words, General Audiences. The days in the desserts can be hard - especially when you have a hungry little girl by your side and you cannot cook.

Aftermath by kryptidkat, Gen, 7k, General Audiences. After the escape they holed up in the bunker for a week. Licking their wounds. Barely able to believe they made it out. When they’re finally forced back into the desert sunlight, none of them are the same. Will another rescue mission help the Four regain the spirit they lost? Or will it just reveal how shattered they've become? The aftermath of Sing.

Everybody's Just Full of Surprises by Oncemorewith_tension, Gen, 3k, General Audiences. For a request calling for Ghoul babysitting the Girl and despite popular predictions, doing quite well.

Yesterday, Today by Arowen12, Gen, 3k, General Audiences. It starts with a whisper. Whispers travel fast in the desert, there’s nothing to stop them, just the wide-open plains with scraggly bushes and they cut through it all like a dry wind, on radio waves, on word of mouth at little burnt out trading posts from zone 1 to 6 and beyond. And suddenly, if its true, everything is different. Motorbabies stare at the horizon each morning and imagine the hull of white creaking through the sand, the Crash Queens in their little strips of insanity mutter to each other over cigarettes but they watch the same horizon just as intently. What’s left of the Killjoys, the outlaws, the rebels, all begin to stir.

Blood and Water by costumejail, Gen, Killjoys & Motorbaby, Cherri Cola/Kobra Kid, 20k, Teen And Up Audiences, Mature. Sometimes, a family isn't a mom, a dad, and a couple of kids. Sometimes, a family is a couple of teenagers, a barely-23-year-old, their younger brother's boyfriend, and the baby that they stole from under the nose of a tyrannical megacorporation.

no rays from the holy heaven come down by Nightwing_Hunter, Gen, Killjoys & the Girl, 25k, Not Rated. You watch as the world burns away, again and again around you. You see the rise and fall of the Fabulous Killjoys. You see the soul of the desert change over time. You are the one that sets BLi ablaze; you are the bomb that turns it to dust. But every bomb starts as scraps—metal and batteries and chemicals set into a chain reaction. The metal is your childhood. The battery is the power you never realize you have. The chemicals are the truth that you spend years uncovering and learning. This is how you build a bomb.

Killjoys Never Die by viviqueen, 21k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. "What do you mean, 'they're not dead'?" "I mean that somehow... The original killjoys... They're alive." ~~~ A story that takes place after the events of the comics of The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. The Girl (also the protagonist) gets caught in a chain of events that unravels a conspiracy. Almost all the named characters from the comics appear at some point, it focuses mainly on The Girl and her own internal battle with her guilt, while she fights for a better future and to protect those she loves that are still alive.

Keep the Chain Going by Flick (raynon), Gen, Jet Starr & Motorbaby, 2k, General Audiences. The Girl finds a rare commodity, and she gets Jet to tell her a story.

Superstar by That_One_Wierdo, Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, 8k [WIP], Not Rated. The Fabulous Four are a lovely little catastrophe. A bunch of teenagers with laser guns and a kid are bound to have some wild rides. Let's just hope that The Girl doesn't find out some of their antics.

Choke by Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth, Gen, Fun Ghoul & Motorbaby, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Fun Ghoul and the Girl walk into a bar(n). And it’s on fire

burning down the batteries by KilltheDJ, Gen, 8k, Teen And Up Audiences. It's been twelve years since the Fabulous Killjoys died for the Girl. Twelve years since they fell from grace, and twelve years since family has been a word in the Girl's vocabulary. Tonight, though, she's not a little girl anymore, and she's more than what Better Living Thinks she is. She's a Fabulous Killjoy, and she's going to save the same Fabulous Killjoys that raised her

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {3/?}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Are you guys ready for some meddling friends and conversations about stealing bread? Cool. I am too 💜 As always, thank you to @captainsjedi for her beautiful artwork and supportive reading and to the organizers of @cssns for putting this event together! 😘

Sorry for reposting. Something weird happened, and I had to delete it and try again!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 |

Tag list: @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @galaxyzxstark @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis@dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke@tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld@jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81@xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @cssns

-/-

“I’m going to kill you for dragging me out here.”

“No you’re not.”

“Asshole.”

“Wanker.”

“Bastard.”

“You’re my brother, so if I’m a bastard, so are you!”

Killian stops running, his feet halting in their tracks, as his breath fully escapes him. They’ve been out here for over an hour, and his legs are burning. Hell, his entire body is burning, every inch of him slick with sweat that is doing nothing to put out the flames. He can practically feel his heart beating between his ears, and he knows that he shouldn’t hastily stop his running, that he should walk it out, but he can’t physically run anymore.

As much as he likes having their workouts done before work, sometimes six in the morning is too early when they don’t even have to be in the office until ten.

Scratch that. All of the time. Six is too early all of the time, and he’s an early riser most days. Unlike Liam, he’s never quite gotten out of a lot of the routines he became accustomed to in the Navy, but he likes to spend that time drinking his coffee or tea and eating breakfast, possibly catching up on some television or on what’s going on the world that he might need to know about. That’s not always the most pleasant thing, but it’s a necessary thing.

“I can’t believe,” he huffs, stretching his arms over his head to try to catch his breath and relieve some of the tension that’s pulling at all of his muscles while a pleasant breeze blows up from the beach, “that you basically just gave me a version of ‘I know you are but what am I.’”

“I probably got it from Luis and Luca. They’ve really been into fighting with each other lately.”

He looks over to his brother, eyes flickering down to his feet which are still moving despite the fact that they’ve stopped their run. The man is still getting exercise in when he knows that they’ve far surpassed their ten thousand steps...not that he tracks them. He had a fitbit at one point in time, but he may have accidentally dropped it into the ocean one day when he was inspecting one of their boats. He’d been messing with his wrist because his scars were agitated and burning like the dickens, and the damn thing came unclasped.

But really, there is no need for Liam to be still jogging in place. He knows that the man is five years older and that his metabolism might not be as great as Killian’s is right now, but damn. All he wants is to take a nice cold shower, eat some more food, and then maybe watch some television before he goes into work. He’s behind on The Rookie, and he really wants to catch up so that Ariel doesn’t ruin it for him. Whenever they watch the same shows, she always ruins them if he gets behind. And if she doesn’t, it’ll be Will. The only person he can count on to not spoil things is Robin, and that’s only because he doesn’t have time to watch anything that’s rated over G with a six year old at home. Technically Liam could also fall into that category, but Liam so rarely watches television unless Elsa makes him.

Elsa watches a hell of a lot of shows that are entirely in Norwegian so that Luca and Luis are bilingual. Liam is still working on his Norwegian, though. It’s funny, when Liam and Elsa could hear each other’s thoughts, things were always spoken in their native tongues.

It was like Google translate, free of charge and of bad mistranslations.

Imagine their surprise when they met and Liam didn’t speak Norwegian. Elsa speaks fluent English, though. Obviously she’s far superior to Liam.

He’d get his ass kicked if he ever spoke those words out loud.

It might be worth it. It’s most definitely true.

“Traffic is going to get bad if we stay out here too much longer,” he points out, his skin cooling down while his heart starts beating steadily again, normalcy returning to his body.

“We live in Storybrooke. There is no backed up traffic. Let’s do one more mile, and then I promise we’ll be finished. And good news for you, we’re not running tomorrow.”

He takes a deep breath, puffing his chest up, before he takes off, yelling to Liam that whoever gets to the library last has to buy lunch.

(He ends up buying lunch.)

(He’s going to have to start training alone so that he can beat Liam’s ass.)

(Who cares about fitness when being better than your brother is at stake?)

His next few weeks at work are a bit insane. It always is in the spring. On their website they recommend ordering customizations, especially full customizations or total redesigns, in the winter, preferably in the fall, but without fail, everyone seems to put in their orders in the late spring. It’s something about the sunshine being more prevalent, temperatures warming up, and everyone simply gets that itch to be outside, specifically to be on the water. He can’t blame his clients. He feels exactly the same way.

There’s likely no one who enjoys spending time outside, spending time out on the water, more than him, so he gets where everyone is coming from.

It honestly makes his life a little bit of a living hell.

It’s funny because hell is only supposed to be for the dead, and he’s only dead inside.

(Not really.)

Maybe his sense of humor is a little twisted.

Being busy is a good thing. It keeps his hands and mind occupied, and that’s something that he desperately needs right now. He needs something to think about other than his personal life. His friends and his family are great like they’ve always been, but they all have lives of their own that are separate from him. He spends his days at work, evenings as a mixture of personal times and spending time with all of his loved ones, but ever since Ariel’s pregnancy announcement dinner, his mind has been absolutely muddled with thoughts of...everything. He’d say his mind is muddled with thoughts of Emma Swan, but that would only be half the truth. After all, he’s only met her once, and he barely knows anything about her.

Scratch that.

There’s a pretty high probability (and he knows this even if his mathematics may be a little off and out of practice) that she’s his soulmate.

That is absolutely the most insane thing in the world. He doesn’t want a soulmate, not really. A part of him does, but for years now all he’s felt is despair. He doesn’t want to be forced to love someone. And yet only days after the anniversary of Milah leaving him, he might have met the woman who is supposedly the love of his life.

But what if he’d already met his?

What if he can’t love again after Milah? What if the universe is telling him to move on in a very big way and he’s not ready? What is he supposed to do with that?

It doesn’t even matter. Emma had been kind and witty, bloody well one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, but she’d very clearly not been interested in him. Obviously she was sexually, if only because they apparently literally cannot help themselves (She’s obviously stronger with her restraint than he is.), but she made it clear as day that nothing was going to become of them. He doesn’t know her, doesn’t know her background outside of what he’s picked up from friends, but she seemed just as averse to soulmates as he was.

Maybe they are kindred spirits.

Obviously they are.

But maybe in a different way.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, really.

He’s freaking Jon Snow.

(Is it still funny to make that joke now that the show is over?)

(It doesn’t matter. He’s still going to make that joke.)

It’s all a confusing mess. He’s met the woman he’s supposed to be with. He’s met his soulmate like all of his friends and family have, but he imagines that not a single one of them had an aversion to their loves to the point of them meeting and then never speaking again despite having access to each other. It’d be a bit of a roundabout way, but he could still talk to her if he really wanted to. All he’d have to do is go to the police station, frequent Granny’s Diner since that’s where Ariel and Emma eat lunch together, or literally ask any one of his friends for her number.

But Emma’s not interested.

Besides, when they met, he spilled water down her dress, making it see through, and then they’d made each other aroused to the point that she caught him wanking one off. It was not one of his finer moments, so it might be for the best that they don’t see each other for awhile. Or forever. It’s not like they can talk to each other in public anyhow. Emma may be able to hide how it affects her, but he cannot no matter how many unpleasant thoughts he thinks.

Seriously. He’s come up with a lot of boner killers over the years, and none of them work.

The universe is fucking with them because it wants them to fuck.

Will: Belle wants to invite you over for dinner tomorrow. Can you make it?

He looks down at his phone, at the message that just popped up. Belle is always inviting him over for dinner. She’s an absolute sweetheart, but he honestly thinks she must assume he doesn’t eat or that he’s lonely. He does eat, and he isn’t lonely. But Belle and Will are both brilliant cooks, most likely because Belle spends her days in a library that has a section full of cook books and Will is always experimenting with food at the Rabbit Hole. So he’s definitely not going to complain.

Killian: Sure! What time?

Will: Six. We’ve got to do it before I go to work.

Killian: Okay, I’ll make sure to leave the office early.

He’s just put his phone back on his desk when it buzzes again, Will’s message popping up on the screen.

Will: At Belle’s apartment, not mine.

Cue the Tag Team because Whoomp (there it is).

He’s being set up on a double date with Emma, and he’s already agreed to go. He already knows that’s what happened because never once have they gone to Belle’s apartment instead of Will’s. Not once.

Sneaky bastards.

Starting tomorrow he’s designing himself a boat...no, he’s designing himself a ship that he can live in for the rest of his days, because he needs to leave Storybrooke in order to avoid Emma Swan.

He’s not even sure if he wants to. All he knows is that he can’t possibly be in public with her.

This entire dinner is going to be spent with him sitting at the table dying a little inside with every word, isn’t it?

No one told him life was going to be this way.

(He’s got to stop quoting songs.)

Maybe she won’t be there. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Will’s apartment has a gas leak or something and that’s why the dinner is at Belle’s.

-/-

He hears Emma talking from outside the apartment door before he gets to the end of the hallway where their apartment is. His thing with sounds, his unfortunate ability to be able to hear absolutely everything unless he’s actively focusing on not hearing it or distracted by something else, is somehow heightened when Emma talks or laughs or even, he assumes, when she sneezes. He has a visceral reaction to it, his entire body heating and tensing, and he hasn’t figured out how to control it, how to make it stop.

There’s about thirty seconds from now until he’s inside that apartment to figure it out.

He doesn’t figure it out.

“Hi,” Belle smiles the moment she opens the door, not even letting him gather his bearings or knock. Belle might very well be the most considerate person he knows, Mary Margaret aside, and she has no idea that she is helping in his demise.

He’s not dramatic in the slightest.

(He definitely is.)

“Hello, love,” he greets, leaning down to kiss her cheek and handing her the bottle of wine he’s brought with him. He prefers to bring homemade food, but he came straight from work and only had time to grab something from the grocery store down the street. “You look absolutely beautiful today.”

“Thank you. Why don’t you come in? I hope you don’t mind that Emma is here. You two have met, right?”

He’s about to answer Belle, to say that they have, even if he sees the cheeky smile on Belle’s face, when Emma turns around from her seat at the table and sees him. She’s in leggings and a sweatshirt, her feet only covered in comically mismatched socks, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail under a baseball cap. And if the way her lips keep parting before coming together again is any indication, she had no idea that he was coming.

Surprise.

She’s going to hate him.

This was definitely some kind of set up. Never in doubt.

“Hello, Swan,” he waves, awkwardly putting his hand in the air and moving his fingers. Her mouth snaps closed, lips pressing into a firm line, and he sees her eyes roll even under the shadow of her cap. She’s not happy that he’s here, and he doesn’t blame her. They’re in a bit of a complicated situation.

Instead of speaking (thank goodness), Emma simply waves back with a flick of her wrist and the slightest nod of her head. He’s grateful for that, truly. This entire night is going to be torture, but she’s doing him a kindness there. It’s the little things in life.

“Oi, why do you look like the cat has your tongue, mate?”

“Shut up, Scarlett.”

“You know I’m incapable of that. Besides, milady likes the sound of my voice.”

“I don’t know what you see in him,” he sighs to Belle as he walks into the apartment and settles against the kitchen counter next to the table where Emma is alternating between shooting him daggers and completely avoiding his gaze. He should probably stop talking, but he’s not entirely sure how to do that when he’s having dinner. Conversation is kind of expected.

They could all become mimes.

The apartment is a small place, especially for two people, but Emma and Belle have it decorated in soft whites and creams with green and blue pillows and accents everywhere. As well as books. He shouldn’t be surprised at that, especially with Belle living here, but he wasn’t expecting them to have an entire wall of the things. It’s nice though, cozy even. He loves his apartment, but there’s a certain staleness to it sometimes. He doesn’t have much there, just his leather couch with one or two pillows and a painting of the horizon at the bay hanging over his television. He’s got bookshelves too, but it’s nothing like the packed space before him. He wonders if Emma is a bookworm as well.

He hopes that she likes flowers for all of the ones that Belle’s father sends them from his shop.

“He’s surprisingly kind when he’s not being an asshole.”

“So once or twice a year then?”

There’s a loud snicker, more of a snort really, and he whips his head to the right to see Emma covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking the slightest bit. Well, look at that. He made her laugh. It may be a good night already.

“You find that funny, love?” he teases, not able to stop himself from talking when he knows that she must be losing her mind. Maybe he’s a bit sadistic, but it’s kind of fun watching her squirm and knowing that there’s nothing she can do to stop him.

“You? Funny? I don’t believe it’s your allotted one time a year for that.”

The beginnings of arousal spark at the base of his spine, but it’s not enough to do anything. Thank fuck.

“It’s not a funny joke when you have to steal it from me, love.”

“That’s cute that you thought it was a funny joke to begin with.”

“Aww, sweetheart,” Will sighs, leaning back in his chair so that it props up on two legs while he looks at Belle who is grabbing glasses out of the cabinet, “would you look at the two of them flirting?”

“We are not flirting,” he and Emma say at the same time while the real hum of arousal starts to spread across his skin. Sighing, he speaks again on his own. “Belle, would you like some help with dinner since your boyfriend is a wanker who isn’t helping you out?”

“You guys are such weird friends, but sure. That’d be great.”

He helps Belle butter slices of toast while she gets the lasagna out of the oven, the two of them easily moving in and out of the kitchen. His left hand being near heat can sting sometimes, so he tries to avoid it on days where he has pains. It’s been nearly a decade since the accident, and sometimes it’s like nothing has changed. He and Belle fill in casual conversation, catching up on how they’ve been while Belle recommends him some new books to come pick up from the library, and Will occasionally adds something in to make Belle laugh, her entire face lighting up. He sees Emma get up from the table and stalk off to what must be her room, and not a part of him blames her. It’s likely what’s best for the both of them, and he appreciates it.

Until she comes back into the room right as they start to eat, silently fixing herself a plate and settling down across from him. He can’t help but watch her, be fascinated by her. For someone who he knows is intelligent and graceful, incredibly athletic if her legs and arms are anything to go by, she’s not very graceful as she eats. He can’t count the amount of times she’s gotten sauce on her chin and he’s had to motion to his own to get her to wipe it off. It’s funny, if he’s honest with himself, but he’s also pretty sure that each move he makes causes Emma to hate him that little bit more.

Hate may be too strong of a word. She simply wants absolutely nothing to do with him. That’s all.

And that’s totally not hate.

Belle and Will are most definitely trying to set the two of them up, as every other sentence is some kind of not-so-gentle nudge for he and Emma to talk to each other. Emma is much better at avoiding everything, deftly nodding her head in answer or giving as curt of a response as possible. He’s not so adept at it, getting roped into saying a bit more than Emma does. He can’t help himself, even though he’s pretty sure that she’s going to murder him and then hide the evidence. She is a detective, after all.

He’s taking a sip of his wine while Belle and Will are having some kind of argument over their upcoming vacation. It’s refreshing to see that even with the whole soulmate thing that people still have normal arguments and petty squabbles. It makes life seem more…real and not like he’s living in some kind of manufactured box.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Emma slide her phone across the table, the screen lit up with the messaging app open. He takes it, pulling it into his side so Belle and Will don’t see. It’s not like they’re paying attention anyways. They’re currently debating if they should go to England or to the beach in Florida. He’s not really sure how that’s a competition, but then again, sometimes people like sunshine.

Sometimes people also like not burning up in the fiery pits of hell of Florida.

If we leave right now, I bet they won’t even notice.

He chuckles at her words, looking up and curving his lips into a smile only to see her looking down intently focusing on what he assumes is a split end on her ponytail. Obviously he knows that she wanted him to see this message. She typed it and sent her phone over to him, but she’s acting like he doesn’t exist. It’s an odd disconnect, but he guesses this is how this is going to go.

Do you think we can take the bread with us?

God no. Belle would snap our heads off. The bread isn’t even worth it.

The bread is always worth it.

That gets a laugh out of Emma, even if he almost missed her small snicker. But he can see the slightest tick of her lips, the smallest of smiles peeking out.

Damn. It feels good to make her smile.

He’s not supposed to be feeling that way.

At least he’s not feeling aroused. That’s a damn good feeling and all, but it’s not something he really wants to deal with right now. It still may be the most idiotic soulmate (or maybe not soulmate and just some sick, twisted game the universe is playing with the two of them to screw them up even more) sign in the world, and while he’s still wondering just how long he’s going to have to suffer with it, it may not be the worst thing in the world.

As long as he doesn’t speak to Emma.

That seems pretty easy since they probably won’t be stuck eating another meal together.

He’s not sure how he feels about that.

“Killian,” Belle huffs, slapping her hands against the table just as he’s texting himself on Emma’s phone so that he has her number, something that contradicts every logical thought that he’s had all night (and something that will probably piss her off), “will you please tell Will that we don’t need to go to England when we can go somewhere nice and relaxing like the beach in Miami, which is definitely different than the beach here?”

“I – ”

“Florida sucks,” Emma starts, inching her glass into the middle of the table so that he can covertly slide her phone back to her. “It’s not only hot but also humid, and the people there are assholes.”

“Oh Emma,” Belle sighs, her eyes widening with what he thinks is compassion, “just because Neal is – ”

“It’s not about Neal,” Emma barks, cutting Belle off. If he wasn’t so interested in who Neal is and why he causes such a reaction from Emma, he’d probably notice the slight tingling sensation that’s working its way over himself. “Go to Spain or something. You get Europe and the beach. I’m going to bed.”

With that Emma gets up from the table and stalks over to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. He thought that things were going well tonight, especially with their little back and forth over the phone, but whatever just happened obviously made her change her mind.

“Damn, Jones. What’d you do to make her so mad? I told you she could kick all of our asses.”

He holds his hands up and shakes his head from side to side. “I didn’t do a thing. She was fine.”

“Until I mentioned Neal,” Belle laments, her lips parting slightly before snapping shut. He so wants to ask who Neal is, the words on the tip of his tongue, but it’s none of his business. Emma might not be interested in him, despite her being kind of friendly to him tonight, but if she’s really his soulmate, he’d like to get to know her on his own. Betraying her trust doesn’t seem like the best way to start that. And if she isn’t his soulmate, he’d still like to get to know her. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why? You think Emma doesn’t enjoy talking about her bastard of an ex?”

An ex.

He figured that, but it’s still…nice, he guesses, to have confirmation even if he doesn’t want to know more.

“I just hate that she’s been hurt so badly,” Belle sighs, rising from the table and collecting plates. He stands with her, not about to let her take care of everything when she cooked. “I wish she could find her soulmate so that she could have that partnership, you know? Like us, Will.”

“You and I both bloody well know that Emma will shove her soulmate away whenever she finds him. She’s not about to fall for everything just because someone tells her to.”

Boy do they have no idea.

He doesn’t stay there much longer, only helping to clean up and chat with Will and Belle a bit more, before he’s leaving Belle and Emma’s apartment and walking home thinking about all of the little bits that he learned about Emma tonight. She’s definitely got protective layers around her heart, something he can understand, but he can also see some of the cracks that let in her friendliness and her humor. Sure, the humor might be a defense mechanism, but it’s still humor.

He rather likes her, he thinks.

He’s not sure if it’s just as friends or some kind of crush, but he knows that he doesn’t seem to hate her. Really, he’d love to talk to her some more. If only the universe didn’t suck and they didn’t have this teeny tiny (in his case big if he does say so himself) problem that keeps them from doing that.

Never in his life has he hated getting turned on this easily.

(Except maybe in secondary school in the middle of a mathematics exam, but that’s an unfortunate story for another day.)

Walking into his apartment, he turns on the lights and kicks off his shoes, leaning down to put them in the right order on his little rack, before he sheds his jacket and hangs it on its hook. It’s eerily quiet in here compared to his dinner, so when he sits down on his couch and props his feet up on the ottoman, he immediately turns the television on, letting it stay on the History Channel for some background noise on the American Revolution.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he responds to Ariel’s text about her time off for a doctor’s appointment next week. He’s about to put it back in his pocket when he remembers Emma’s number in his phone. He could text her, but should he? She probably doesn’t want to hear from him, especially if she’s in a bad mood because Belle mentioned her ex, but it’s almost like he can’t help himself.

Dammit.

He’s thirty-five. He should not be having this much of an issue on deciding whether or not to text a woman he fancies.

Killian: You know, I quite fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me.

One, two, three minutes pass. He watches his screen for all of them.

Emma: I could just block you, you know.

He snickers at that. Of course that’s where she goes first.

Killian: I know. I also know where you live.

Emma: That’s stalkerish, dude.

Killian: Block my number and throw me in a jail cell, love. I’m ready for it.

Emma: Kinky.

Killian: The name’s Killian.

Emma: Asshole.

Killian: I also answer to that.

She takes a few minutes to respond, the little dots popping up on his screen and disappearing over and over again.

Emma: Good.

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 6.11

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time in trial 6, Shuichi’s pain over losing his friends reached breaking point as Maki was manipulated into sacrificing herself, causing him to finally realise how real they still are (and by extension how real Kaede and Kaito and the others were, even if he didn’t mention it directly), he figured out that these very efforts to overcome suffering are what the audience (supposedly) wants from them and stood up against it, the vast majority of the audience clearly didn’t actually want such a meaningful storyline as they stopped caring about Shuichi in favour of Keebo’s hope nonsense, a far-too-unreasonably-tiny fraction of audience members maybe started to see that Shuichi had a point, and Keebo finally realised that his inner voice is the bad guy and started ignoring it, giving us Shuichi back as our real protagonist again.

Shuichi has decided to abstain from voting (for reasons that he really shouldn’t be so sure will actually end Danganronpa), so now he just needs to convince his friends to do so too.

“Makoto”: ��“H-Hold on, everyone. If we keep thinking, we can find a better ending and—”

Shuichi:  “Himiko, Maki, will you abstain from voting with me?”

Hah, I love Shuichi completely ignoring her bullshit and getting to the actual point. Now that he’s found his strength again and knows exactly what’s up, he is not sitting through any more of her pointless nonsense.

Shuichi:  “Himiko, we can put an end to this insane killing game. We’re going to use our lives to end this madness!”

Himiko:  “Use our lives…?”

Shuichi:  “But Himiko… you have to choose, okay?”

It’s lovely how Shuichi makes it clear that this is still her choice. He’s asking his friends to choose to kill themselves to end the killing game – of course that’s a huge thing for them to do, so he doesn’t want to be forcing them to do it if they’re not genuinely okay with giving up their lives for this.

(It’s a lot like how Kaito was. He never forced people to agree with his philosophies and advice. He’d say his bit in the hope that it’d inspire and persuade them, but in the end he always gave people room to choose to buy into his words on their own.)

Shuichi:  “Only those who have found the truth can choose their destiny!”

This is something Kaede said to him, during their elevator ride to the first trial! (Admittedly this is a different wording than Kaede used, probably thanks to lack of localiser communication, meaning I never picked up on this until literally right now doing the commentary. But still!) He’s using the strength his fallen friends gave him to do this!

And then Himiko gets to be the protagonist for a little bit! I love that the narrative does this. This here is the actual Danganronpa-ending moment of the real protagonist inspiring his friends to make a choice, the thing that Keebo’s Mass Panic Debate was a cheap inferior imitation of. But instead of just making it about Shuichi shooting some kind of bullet at them, which would almost kind of seem like he’s forcing them to change their minds, we get to play this as Himiko and Maki, as they make up their own minds and decide on their terms to agree with Shuichi!

It’s also just lovely that they briefly get to be protagonists, because they are, even though Shuichi has been the protagonist we’ve been following. “Each of you are the heroes of your own stories! So act more like it!” Kaito was so right to say that and so good to see everyone around him that way! Everyone’s story is important!

Himiko:  (If we don’t stop this killing game, these tragedies will keep happening… Tenko and Angie… wouldn’t want that!)

And it’s nice to see in Himiko’s thoughts here that she’s still thinking about Tenko and Angie and what they would have wanted.

“Gundham”:  To choose death is to blaspheme against life itself!”

…

“Sakura”:  “That would be a meaningless death.”

(Tsumugi is still terrible, but I like that she chose to use these two characters here who had philosophies and stories that are relevant to this idea.)

Himiko:  “Even if I am a fictional character, my life is real… That’s why killing games are fun, right? It’s fun to see two lives clash, right?”

This is presumably meant to be justification as to why the in-universe audience is okay with watching this happen to actual real people and couldn’t settle for just literal fiction. But this particular reason doesn’t really make it any easier for me to buy this. In actual fiction, it’s fun when lives are on the line because it gives things high stakes and keeps the story tense. But that doesn’t need real lives to be on the line to do that – simply using the suspension of disbelief and thinking about how it’s real within the completely fictional universe is enough for that. Using actual real people who really die should just make the whole thing extremely sick and tasteless and no longer fun at all to watch.

And clearly this audience mitigates that for themselves quite a bit by telling themselves “oh it’s fine because they’re not really real people right” – but in that case, it’s essentially equivalent to them watching fiction anyway, so the supposed fun of watching “real lives” clash would also be lost, no?

There’s a much more appropriate potential reason for why this audience prefers this kind of “real fiction” over actual genuine fiction. Using real people means things aren’t entirely scripted by a writing team, which means that more unexpected and exciting events can happen than if everything was truly fictional. And in that vein, it could still be possible for them to be telling themselves that the characters are only “real” in the sense that they act outside of their creators’ expectations, kind of like an AI simulation can do unexpected things that a human wouldn’t have imagined, but they’re still not real people with real lives so it’s fine, right? (Man, Keebo’s robot issues could have been made so relevant to what everyone else is now going through.)

It is still a stretch no matter how you try and spin it, I admit. But ultimately, the fact that people happily watch real death games is fundamental to the basic premise of V3’s outside world, so we’ve just got to accept it. Kind of like how Junko having managed to spread her despair to apocalyptic levels was pretty difficult to buy but necessary to accept anyway because that was the whole point of that outside world.

Himiko:  “So Tenko, Angie, and all the past victims can rest in peace…”

Aww, Himiko. I wonder if she might be thinking about this fairly literally, too. She was willing to do the seance to speak to Angie, so she may well believe that they have some kind of spirit that’s not going to be able to rest unless nobody ever has to go through what they did again. And by “past victims”, she’s not just talking about the other victims of this particular game, because it isn’t only about them. This is about everyone who’s suffered in every single real killing game in the past, who fought so hard to end it only for their efforts to ultimately be meaningless, until now.

“Himiko, don’t die!!!”

Huh, even Himiko has some fans! And this one actually seems like a reasonable person, not wanting the character they like to die.

“Himiko hats are nearly sold out!”

…Man, that’s so completely realistic and understandable but also so fucked up. Himiko’s identity is just being sold as a costume that anyone can wear and use to pretend to be like her even though she’s a real goddamn person who never consented to this. Her outfit was originally designed by Tsumugi, sure, but she didn’t know that and has always felt like it’s hers and a part of her identity. I bet this has happened a lot for everyone who’s died, too. When the three of them escape, they’re probably going to sometimes bump into people casually cosplaying their dead friends like that’s not incredibly gross and messed up. Maybe Tsumugi is onto something when she says that it’s wrong to cosplay a real person – not because it’s disrespectful to the act of cosplaying, though, but rather because it’s disrespectful to the person and their loved ones.

“Himiko’s eyes are open.”

It’s not certain, but… this person might get it? They might be acknowledging that Himiko is making the right choice and this is what needs to happen.

“Is it our fault?”

Yes! Yes, this is your fault, and you deserve to be feeling bad about it, and you should be trying to do something to fix it!

“I’ll end the killing game.”

Maybe this person means what they’re saying, too. Maybe some people are starting to come around. But even if they are, they are still only a tiny, tiny minority. I’m pointing them out because they’re worth noting, but the majority of commenters are still very not on board with this.

“i wanna protect Shuichi <3”

No, you don’t. If you really want to do that then you’ll stay the fuck away from him.

“Imposter Byakuya”:  “Perhaps that thought is just another work of fiction, following along my outline.”

Tsumugi:  “It could be a part of my script, just like Maki falling for Kaito, y’know?”

Tsumugi seems to have given up on persuading Himiko out of this and is now targeting Maki. It’s not just about the Kaito thing – the entire idea that her thoughts and actions have just been decided for her by someone else and she never really had any of her own agency is something which is deeply relevant to Maki’s issues, and that’s been tormenting her a lot in this trial already. Tsumugi does appear to understand that this idea is likely to shake Maki the most – maybe I should be giving her a little more credit than I was earlier. Or maybe she’s only realised this because of the way Maki reacted earlier.

Tsumugi:  “Cuz if none of you vote and I do, then I’ll be the only one who survives! Doesn’t that sound exactly like something the big bad mastermind would come up with?”

That’d honestly be more of an actual “despair” ending than the everyone-lives-boringly-in-the-academy ending she’s actually pushing as the “despair” option for the vote.

Not that that should make it an entertaining ending that the audience would want either. What’s most fun about despair is the moment when characters lose hope and fall into it, and then sometimes if that despair then causes them to do awful things because they don’t care any more, like when Maki was willing to get everyone else killed in trial 5. But usually, the part after falling into despair is simply boring, such as earlier in chapter 5 when everyone had seen the outside world and lost all motivation to do anything. And a despair ending where everyone but the mastermind dies is definitely the boring kind.

Maki:  “…”

Maki’s wincing. Tsumugi’s argument makes enough sense to her that she’s starting to doubt herself. She still hasn’t quite shaken off the feeling that their goal should be to “defeat despair” by killing the mastermind, even though that’s the thought that was manipulated and written into her.

Shuichi:  “It’s okay, Maki. Believe in me. And believe in yourself, just like you believed in Kaito.”

Maki:  “Believe… in myself?”

This is what Maki’s entire character arc comes down to in the end: she’s been gradually learning to believe that she has worth as a person. Not only that she deserves to have friends, but that her feelings and desires and choices are important and worthwhile and hers. Kaito believed that about her from the very beginning and never doubted it for a second even after learning her secret. Maki can believe that easily enough about everyone around her, especially Kaito and Shuichi after all they’ve done for her. But the hardest thing for her is still believing it about herself.

Shuichi:  “That’s why you have to fight, even if you’re scared. Because you have that strength.”

Maki is definitely still scared to believe in herself, even though she has the strength to do it by now thanks to Kaito and Shuichi’s support. It’s a little surprising that Shuichi is saying this, though, because he never used to properly see Maki as “weak” like he was, not when her type of weakness was so very different to his. So I wonder if Shuichi is partly thinking about and saying this to himself here.

Shuichi:  “Come on, it’d be a lousy story if the hero gave up so easily!”

And this is something Kaito said to him! A lot more word-for-word this time (except Shuichi swapped the “crappy” for “lousy”). Kaito was saying that about himself at the time, but that doesn’t mean it can’t also work as a sentiment for everyone to hold onto. Everyone’s the hero of their own story, after all!

It’s a shame that Maki doesn’t actually know these are Kaito’s words because this was from the hangar conversation where Shuichi and Kaito were alone. But I’m sure she can figure it out anyway – Kaito was always the one to talk about heroes, after all.

(Also, here’s yet more emphasis of the fact that Shuichi and his friends are making a really good story here, and why in the hell is this not what the audience wants to see?)

Maki:  (My desire to end this killing game may be fictional…)

Makiii, why would you doubt that. Anyone who has an ounce of sense would want to end the killing game; people not being horribly killed any more is objectively a good thing!

Maki:  (All of that might be implanted as well… Just like my feelings for Kaito…)

Bullshit, Maki Roll. Don’t listen to her manipulation. You made it very clear yourself that your feelings for Kaito came from the kind of person he was and everything he did for you, and all of that was real! You’re the only one who knows exactly how you came to feel that way about Kaito, so you should know better than anyone else that that was all you!

(And even if her feelings were implanted (which they still definitely weren’t) that wouldn’t make them any less real now that she’s feeling them.)

Maki:  (Everything is fiction. A story written by someone…)

Only some of it was written, not everything! Listen to what Shuichi’s been saying about how real you all still are!

Tsumugi:  “Even your thoughts are works of fiction.”

…That is not how thoughts work, Tsumugi. Maki has a real brain that is really thinking those thoughts. Flashback Lights can influence them to some extent, but you cannot possibly have written every single thing that is going through her head.

Shuichi:  “It’s because of everyone’s sacrifices that we’ve come this far. Their deaths have to be more than just fiction…”

Of course they are, because they really died! Even the ones who were always scripted to die, like Kaede and Kaito – that doesn’t make the fact that they died any less real!

Maki:  (I’ll end this killing game… I’ll believe in my feelings!)

Yes, Maki! You are a person and your feelings and desires are yours and they matter! Screw anyone who tries to tell you otherwise!

Maki:  “I will believe in myself!”

This is Maki’s voiced line when she shoots the bullet of agreement at Shuichi, and it’s lovely. For her, this isn’t just about ending the killing game; it’s about finally pushing herself to believe for sure that her feelings are important and finally, finally reaching the culmination of her character arc, here right at the end of chapter 6.

Maki:  “If I can’t believe in my feelings, then my existence will have no meaning.”

And you’d just be a puppet doing whatever awful things other people want from you and never having your own life. You don’t want that any more, right, Maki Roll?

Kaito would be so, so proud to see her here. He’d be just as proud of Shuichi too, but in that case, it was more like Kaito already saw Shuichi as the hero he’s being now, even if Shuichi didn’t see it himself. With Maki, though, Kaito always believed she had the potential to reach this point, but I think he also knew she hadn’t quite reached it yet while he was still alive. So he never got to see that in the end, and that’s such a shame. It would have made him so happy to be here for this.

Maki:  “If we can change reality, then we won’t be just fiction… Our lives will have significance.”

The camera pans to Kaito’s death portrait here, suggesting that Maki is thinking of him and that this’ll mean his life has significance too. If Maki gave up and decided that everything she’s gained from Kaito was just meaningless fiction, then it really would be like he never had any significance. The idea that he’d just die for nothing without having had any impact at all was exactly what Kaito was so terrified of when he realised he was dying. But Maki’s not going to let Kaito’s fears come true. He’s going to live on through his sidekicks and be remembered as the life-changing hero that he was, just like he deserves to be.

(oops i’m doing myself a very big emotion again)

Maki:  “And hopefully… my feelings will have significance, too.”

They already do if you decide they do, Maki! Nobody else needs to decide that for you but you! The only thing that matters is what you want to believe!

{Later addendum edit: Turns out that while doing this commentary, I missed a set of audience comments that were only on-screen for literally two text boxes at around this point. Since I spotted these and copied them down way later than I wrote this commentary post, I wasn’t really in the commentary-flow mood of picking out individual ones to rag on, so instead, in this addendum edit, you get literally every one I could see.

LOL are we the baddies?

Why does Keebo exist anyway?

Maki, too…

I’m gonna cry ;_;

For Shuichi’s sake <3

Let’s stop.

If Maki dies, I’m out a million bucks.

Where’s the hope vs. despair?

lol jk… I was wrong

I’m starting to feel guilty.

I’m starting to get into this.

im triggered by suicide mentions

The characters’ lives…

i’m 12 please visit my channel

I wanted to keep watching

super lame if they committed suicide

They remind me of my daughters

if it’s not fun, it’s not Ronpa!

I bolded the ones that indicate a few of the audience members at least vaguely acknowledging that they’re in the wrong… and you can see how much of a minority they’re still in, even at such a late point in this trial. Geeeez.}

“Hiro”:  “Man, why do you guys wanna die so badly!?”

Shuichi:  “It’s not that I want to die! We fought so hard to survive… Of course we don’t want to die. But it’s not just about us.”

The thought that they’re all going to sacrifice their lives after everything they’ve been through is heartbreaking when you think back to the fact that Kaede and Kaito and the rest of their friends all desperately wanted them to survive and get out of here. It almost feels like Shuichi’s betraying their wishes right now. But the thing is, this has become so much bigger than just them and just this one killing game. This is about everyone who’s ever suffered and died in one of these awful games, and everyone who ever will if they don’t stop this right here. If the only way to get it to stop is to sacrifice themselves, then that is worth it. And I think their fallen friends would be able to accept that too, if they were still here to see this.

Shuichi:  “Everyone who died in the killing games felt the same way. They were all desperate to live. They wanted to survive. For themselves… and for someone else. That desire… isn’t fictional to us! That pain isn’t fictional to us!”

I appreciate having a little more focus on how Shuichi has realised that none of them were ever really fictional in any meaningful sense of the word, including his friends he’s lost, and that everyone really meant everything they did and really felt all of that pain.

And the way he says “killing games”, plural, indicates that he’s thinking of every past killing game as well. Neither we nor Shuichi have seen any of those games, but we can use this one and these characters we knew as an example to imagine that everyone from those previous games must have felt that same kind of pain and suffering and desperation to live. This is for them, too.

Tsumugi:  “As long as the world wants killing games, Danganronpa will not end!”

Shuichi:  “Then we have to change it!”

Tsumugi:  “There’s no way you can change it! Fiction could never change the real—”

Keebo:  “You don’t believe in the power of fiction?”

It’s a little odd to me that it’s Keebo who cuts her off by saying this. The person in this room who clearly believes most strongly in the power of fiction is Shuichi, with everything he’s been saying here, and appropriately backed up by the fact that he likes novels. Meanwhile, nothing has ever indicated that Keebo is a particularly avid reader or has any investment in the topic of fiction himself.

This would work if Keebo went on to cite some of the things he’s still been hearing from his inner voice that show how much Danganronpa has affected and changed people’s lives, but he doesn’t do anything like that. Not helped, of course, by the fact that this audience is not even remotely coming across as the kind of audience that has actually had its life changed by this fiction. Keebo is just so much missed potential.

Keebo:  “If fiction has the power to touch people’s hearts, then that power can change the world! That is what I believe!”

Instead he’s just waxing lyrical about fiction in general with no indication of what brought him to feel this way and believe this so strongly. This is a good sentiment, but Keebo’s use of it here just feels forced.

(You know who else other than Shuichi would very believably be a strong advocate of the power of fiction? Himiko! She’s presenting a fiction to the world all the time, all for the sake of giving people smiles! If her magic makes people smile even though it’s really fictional, then that means that it’s her fiction that’s doing all the real magic! The fact that things that we know full well are completely made-up can nonetheless draw us in and make us want to pretend it’s real and feel genuine emotion really is just freaking magical, and that goes for stories just as much as magic tricks.)

(…Not that Himiko would actually admit her magic is fiction, but I can see her getting this idea across by saying something like, “My magic is definitely real, but fiction can be almost as powerful as magic, you know!”)

Tsumugi:  “Are you serious?”

Maki:  “Are you getting flustered? Your costume changes are less frequent now.”

Hah, I like Maki calling her out on that. That’s the kind of thing it’s supposed to be my job to point out, but honestly I might not have even noticed the significance of that here without Maki’s insight.

“Nagito”:  “But what about hope?”

“Junko”:  “What about despair?”

Keebo:  “Do whatever you want with hope and despair.”

I love that they all just do not give a fuck any more. Even Keebo! Honestly, him having finally realised that all this hope and despair stuff is bullshit is the biggest character growth we’ve seen from him this whole game.

Monokuma:  “…Voting Time? No! Not yet! This killing game will continue!”

And now we get the sequence where Monokuma and Tsumugi keep trying to force Shuichi to “play” the game even though they’ve obviously already lost. You’re meant to run out this Nonstop Debate’s uniquely short timer, but another way to end it is to turn the “Continue the Game” bullet into “End the Game” by “lying” and fire that at any statement. It’s neat that they thought of that option.

It’s cute bit of fourth-wall-leaning that they then force you through multiple trial minigames that you have to stubbornly ignore… but this doesn’t actually make any sense. In-universe, this is a live reality TV show and not a videogame, and Shuichi doesn’t actually get given these minigames to play.

Oh look, it’s a Psyche Taxi segment that I don’t have to complain about! Because I don’t have to play it! Welp, I’m officially declaring this to be the best Psyche Taxi in the game, right here.

…For some reason, the car still moves ever so slightly even if you don’t press the accelerate button. And the fact that I have skills equipped to make this minigame go faster means I got closer to completing the question than other players would.

What must you never give up?

-      Hope

-      Hope

-      Hope

-      Hope

This wouldn’t even be an interesting story if they played along, though. This would just be Shuichi spouting meaningless platitudes about hope, like Keebo was a while ago.

Shuichi:  “We’re trying to survive! You’re the ones who want us to be entertaining!”

Remember the bit back in chapter 5 where Kokichi called Kaito “not boring” as he was supposedly about to die from the poison, and Kaito’s only response was a bewildered “What?”? That made me think of this line here. Nobody here has ever given a crap about whether or not what they’re doing is entertaining… except for Kokichi, because he was very like the mastermind of this game in a lot of ways.

“This was totally miscast.”

…Do some of them seriously think these are still actors? It’s sort of vaguely plausible that people might have been led to believe that until now, but these developments should definitely have blown the lid off of that deception even if that were the case.

“I don’t care as long as Himiko lives.”

Himiko still has a fan or two! But if they were really her fans, they’d want what she wants at this point, even if it means she has to die.

“I paid to see the punishments!”

“Make everyone die.”

There’s still plenty of people here who aren’t even believable viewers of fiction in any way. If all they’re here for is seeing people die, then clearly they don’t actually care about the characters, in which case what the hell was even the point of watching in the first place? Plus, a downer ending in which everyone dies presumably wouldn’t bother these people!

“This is why I wanted Kaede to live.”

Why? Kaede would be advocating for the exact same thing that Shuichi is right now, you know!

(This line does imply that the out-universe writers expected some of their actual audience to have wished Kaede had lived instead of Shuichi. But this doesn’t make nearly as much sense for the in-universe audience to think, because Kaede was never presented to them as the apparent protagonist.)

“Shuichi is mine! <3”

No, he isn’t, leave him the fuck alone.

The general gist of the audience’s comments, however, is them complaining about how they’re not enjoying this.

Shuichi:  “If you’re going to complain… perhaps you should just stop watching.”

(More proof that Shuichi and the others can actually see all of these comments.)

This is still so awkwardly disconnected from reality. Everything that’s been happening since Shuichi realised what was up and started fighting back has been a way more compelling story than any of the nonsense that was going on while Keebo was being the protagonist. An actual reasonable audience wouldn’t be complaining about this at all – the only part of it they should have any potential issue with is the thought of no more killing games after this, but this killing game is getting a far better ending than it was looking like it was going to have a little while ago.

The conundrum that the out-universe writers have here is that they’re simultaneously trying to present an ending that’s supposedly boring enough to the in-universe audience that it ends the franchise, while not actually making the story boring to the real audience because they still want us to enjoy their game. They’re doing a decent enough job of keeping things compelling for us, at least in terms of how Shuichi and his friends have been acting here… but apparently the only way they could then try and sell the idea that the in-universe audience isn’t enjoying this like the out-universe audience should is by presenting the in-universe audience as mindless assholes who are not remotely relatable and nothing like a real audience of fiction would be. Which extremely compromises the point they’re trying to make about why this has gone on for so long in-universe.

But really, it would have been better, and easier, for the out-universe writers to have simply not given themselves this conundrum in the first place. Shuichi doesn’t actually need to try and give the audience a boring ending to end Danganronpa. If he did achieve it that way, it still wouldn’t fix the underlying problem this world has: that people think real-life killing games are a cool idea in principle, even if Danganronpa has apparently stagnated as a series enough to have ended. What Shuichi should actually be trying to do, already, is persuade the audience that they shouldn’t want this or anything like this any more, because real people dying is not worth anyone’s entertainment. That’s the only reasonable way things can end, and he should already be able to see that.

This wouldn’t be so hard to do if the audience had actually been presented as a vaguely reasonable audience of fiction who had been mostly wilfully ignoring the fact that everyone’s real until now. Because now, the fact that the audience has been watching real people die is part of the story, in a way that it’s never been before for however many of the 53 seasons have been real. It’s no longer something the audience can possibly ignore, no matter how much they may want to. And the audience should be reacting to this like any reasonable audience would – by rooting for the characters to get what they want, even if, in this case, it means the audience no longer gets what it wants. If this fiction was going to be powerful enough to change the world, all of that power and influence to be able to do so should have already happened through all five previous chapters of getting everyone more and more attached to these characters and invested in their goals. The majority of the audience should already be on Shuichi’s side here.

Obviously this would still be hard for a lot of people to accept – that they’re the villains, that in order for their heroes to win and get a happy ending they’ll need to stop getting their favourite show, that actually they should feel awful about having ever enjoyed the show in the first place. There’d still be plenty of resistance – but it should be meaningful resistance full of people having conflicted, human reactions to realising that they’ve always been in the wrong, not any of this one-dimensional “hurr durr this is boring everyone should just be yelling about hope and/or dying”.

---

[Next post]

[dahlthir-blog]

     ➜ Atuona has been accepted!

Welcome to Dahlthir, Azura! Your application for Atuona has been approved. You’ll have 5 days to turn in your blog to the masterlist. If you need more time, you can send us a message!

The character portion of the application can be found under the cut. She’s gone through so much to acquire her powers and even then those powers weren’t the ones she really sought after. It’s such a sad story but I’m glad she was able to one way or another escape from that organization! I hope Dahlthir can treat her well enough!

( CHARACTER SECTION )

Other characters: Mizuki Hinobashi, Flora Abner, Garma, Alize Ruth, Celia Kacela

Faceclaim(s) & Series: Black Rock Shooter from “black rock shooter”

Character Name: Atuona (Like precious metal, Goes by: Aton)

Housing: Guild housing

Age: 18?

Level: (Intended to be) 4

Appearance :

Her hair is black as if like the obsidian hidden deep underground and feels exactly like the hard to obtain minerals would feel, though it is close to impossible to run your hand though the hair it seems rather well kempt and flows exactly like normal hair. The next thing to notice about the odd girl would be her eyes which seem to act in a rather odd way, while their original color is blue her left eye tends to give off two different radiances a blue radiances which seems to mean calm, level headed, thinking, kindness, or pity depending on the situation, and purple radiance which seems to give off the feeling as if she is annoyed, angry, desperate, in despair, or she just gone completely insane. (these radiances are not accurate guides to judge her mood) Moving down starts her wardrobe starting with her favorite overcoat  though this may not seem like much, but the coat is actually made from a very flexible but very durable metal this meaning she can sometimes stretch the coat to cover her exposed mid-area for a period of time before it returns to normal shape. The coat has a simple hood on it this is actually just made from cloth and used to keep her from being blinded by the sun is it’s most common use. Aton leaves most of her body exposed if she must be completely honest it is only because “I’d burn up in clothes made only of metal” so because of this small fact she would rather have more exposed with her mutations guarding her. Moving on and skipping the piece of cloth covering her chest, since there isn’t anything special about it, we get to her black shorts which, like her chest piece, is only made of cloth though the belt is made of metal and designed to hold different types of vials and components.

On Aton’s left wrist is a bracelet made of metal with various setting on it, this is the device that deploys her weapon in various forms, when the weapons form the take up the room from the bend of her arm past the fingertips for extended reach. On her left arm is a tattoo of a blue flame trail leading to her upper back that circles down around her stomach and back to her lower which then curves up to the mid back into an explosion like pattern as if it was a firework going off. Her right arm and the lower parts of her legs are both covered in both scars and burn marks fighting with such unpredictable equipment can take it’s toll on you if you aren't careful. Covering her feet are the sturdy black leather boots that have gotten her from place to place and never given out on her even once, some expertly made shoes indeed! On her left hand lays a ring that is actually missing a gemstone, this ring had no beneficial effect on her nor does it have negative effect other than making her feel bad she lost the pretty gem. Aton doesn’t wear makeup, her skin is mostly made of certain materials and using her ability she is able to shape her appearance as she wishes, though the only things she can not change is her build, that will develop over time, she had tested. Around her neck is a necklace that was given to her by someone at her home old home, because of her past her time before she was like this is fuzzy so she can’t remember who.

Are they a part of the Adventurer’s Guild?: Recruit

—- How long have they been part of the Guild: 1 week

Warnings: Blood and gore, death, human experimentation, Needles, Kidnapping

Personality (Please list 3 positive and 3 negative traits. Can simply be bullet points or can be expanded!):

+Kind: Aton is a very kind person, despite what she has been through helping others, she sees her helping others as making a difference in the world and when she set out on her original journey it was her goal from the start.

+Natural guard: Aton has a knack for standing around and looking at least a little intimidating, this help when people need a bit of protection, she often get’s offered jobs as a bodyguard for a short while to keep attackers away when transporting personnel.

+Cheery outlook: Aton will normally try to cheer people up if they aren’t feeling in the best of moods, she starts of course by complimenting them, but in the end she ends up sharing a phrase she lives her life by “Everything will be fine if you can just smile”

+Beautiful singing voice: Though Aton doesn’t sing very often because she is actually rather shy when it comes to her singing, she does sometimes sing to herself on missions and since joining the guild it is more than likely people may find out about her small habit.

+Honest: Aton knows she messes up a lot, though unlike some others, Aton will admit out right when something was her fault or she failed at an intended mission, she fears the consequences, but fears the ones for lying even more.

-Too paranoid: Due to her past Aton often stayes up much later than most of the other recruits she says this is because that when they are asleep they are vulnerable to attacks by evil spirits that cause bad dreams and torture those who they inflict, often times she catches up on sleep once one person wakes up.

-Too protective: Once Aton makes a friend she is prepared to sacrifice literally anything to save them if the situation requires her to do so, she will literally waste away if someone allows her too just to protect someone else.

-Bad judge of character: Aton is rather foolish and because of this she often tends to get near and close to people she shouldn’t even talk to, this was proven because of how she is now, Aton tends to get mixed up in the business of some villain and paying the price for the trouble they make, she just doesn’t know any better.

-Forgetful: Aton, at times, can forget the most important things in the worst moments she could forget them ranging from weaknesses of monsters, to her own purse when she goes out to purchase food, normally she will tell someone what she plans to do so they can make sure she has everything before leaving.

-Emotional- Though Aton tends to present her, sometimes as a literal, rock with no emotions she can actually be easily upset at times especially on days of great stress where only bad things have occurred to her

-Bad with time: Aton is horrible at telling time so she normally tells people to do things certain positions of the sun, though if someone tells her to wait a few minutes she will literally stand there and wait until they call her again because she can’t measure time.

Background (Minimum of 5 sentences.):

Aton was adopted into a happy family with an older brother and two loving parents in a small farm village that in this time has ceased to exist, but going back before that point is where we begin Aton’s journey and troubles. From a young age Aton was taught that helping others was a great deal to the world no matter how little the act was or how unnecessary the act may seem, she spent her childhood doing chores and tasks for the people of the small town. Around the age of eight Aton and her family moved away from the village to a better land that yielded more varieties of crops helping out and taking up travelers on the way. Though not everything was nice and peachy life is filled with many colors and worst of all is red, Aton hated the sight of the color red she hated wounds, she hated seeing her loved ones hurt though when the bandits attack there was nothing she could do, but hide and wait. Aton held her breath while she and her older brother hid while her parents dealt with the bandits after a few screams some laughs and the sound of trotting horses they were gone, they had taken half of the supplies the family brought with them, but there were only a few days left until they reached the new town. No one told her, but one of Aton’s mothers was injured in the confrontation and with the medicine gone well…the end result should be obvious after awhile, upon arriving in the town Aton’s mother fell ill and immediately Aton went to trying to make money to help pay for medicine. Aton payed and helped her family the best she could though it seemed it was too late, her mother had already given up fighting it the medicine stopped working after a few week…then the inevitable came.

WARNING: Death

The days passed and Aton’s mother only got worse the wound couldn’t be healed and one night Aton was woken up by her mom and taken to her mother who lay on the couch, Aton was told to say goodbye to her mother. The first thing Aton asked her mom was “Where is Mommy going?” Aton had no idea what they were talking when they wanted her to say goodbye to her mother, but soon enough she would find out. Aton was sent back to bed though something in her mind kept her up pretty much all night, usually the only person up at night at this point was her mother so Aton went to go see her, but what she came into the room to see was her motionless mother being held tightly by her mom. Aton came up and looked at her mother, she was smiling something that her mother hadn’t done since the night they were attacked Aton gave her mother a few shakes on the arm trying to wake her up while her mom broke out into tears. The next day a funeral was held among the villagers, thanks to her brother explaining things to her Aton finally understood what they meant by say goodbye…but Aton never got to say it. Aton didn’t attend the funeral she was too busy thinking about why this happened and remained at the family’s home until her mom and brother came back into the house, Aton spoke not a word to either of them. A year passed and Aton had done much of the farming for the family recently it seemed her brother was running out of breath quickly recently and her mom was busy dealing with the other villagers and the problems everyone had.

Warning end: Death (For now)

After collecting the harvest Aton would head into the market area attempting to sell what she had personally grown, Aton had saved up enough her own earning from her harvests to actually buy something of her own, Aton decided to buy a sword. Bringing it and the money home Aton showed it to her mom and insisted that they find someone to train Aton to use it to be able to protect the family. Of course her mom refused at the quickest chance she got, though through determination, and her brothers people skills, Aton found someone able enough to teach her to wield the sword, and soon enough she took up small tasks on killing monster that came near the village. At the age of eleven Aton had become used to going out of the village to fight monsters and bringing back proof for her kills to get a reward from the people who were supplying her with such missions, though each time she came back she would be yelled at by her mom though the woman always had a smile, one day Aton’s mom surprised her with a special gift, a good luck charm to help on her mission her mom knew Aton wasn’t going to stop. Each day Aton took a moment before leaving out for her missions to pray for her lost mother and to pray for the families good health, though these times didn’t last the world is full of colors and not all are pretty, soon enough black would engulf the families lives because of a simple girl’s actions. While out on a mission one day when Aton turned twelve she came upon someone in a white coat passed out on the ground near the forest, she picked him up abandoning her current mission and quickly walked back to the village calling for help from the villagers they got to patching the man up, this was one of the worst decisions of Aton’s life.

WARNING: Human experimentation, Needles, kidnapping

After a few day the man had become healthy and came to thank Aton for saving him, but it was only for a second before the needle was jammed into her neck and the odd colored liquid was pushed into her system. Stumbling back and falling onto the floor Aton couldn’t move as she was picked up and forced to watch as more men came flooding in taking more villagers including her family, Aton wanted to cry, she saved this man for this? What was even going on?! Blacking out Aton fell limp on the man’s shoulder as she was carried for an undecided amount of time Aton woke up on the cold floor of what looked like a cold dark room with a green object blocking her way out. Aton got up and immediately noticed her clothes had changed into something accorded to a long blue dress that wasn’t exactly covering in the back, a patient’s robe if she recalled correctly. Aton walked around the room a bit wondering what was going on, where her family was, and what she was supposed to do…the answers didn’t come, but something much worse did. The man came and turned off the green thing blocking her way out and grabbed Aton’s wrist dragging her along, Aton asked questions while she was being dragged though none were answered as she soon was thrown into a room with a wolf! Aton took a battle stance immediately upon seeing the wolf, though without her weapon she couldn’t fight so running was the only option, Aton avoided the best she could until the wold bit down on her arm…odd, she didn’t seem to feel the teeth in her skin. The wolf’s teeth stopped at the surface of skin and what was protecting her skin from the biting down on her looked like some kind iron surfacing covering her, raising her other arm up she forced the wolf off of her and pushed it away making her way to the door where she was pulled out and brought to her cell once again.

WARNING end: Needles

WARNING: Human experimentation, blood and gore, death

Test after test year after year passed and Aton had pretty much given up on escaping, now she was being put up against actual humans now to see who would break first between the two that were put in the same room. Aton had come out on top so far for five years Atone had come out on top, no one had managed to pierce her skin just yet, soon enough the scientist had brought Aton into a room and they clamped a bracelet onto her left arm which dug into her skin with ease as opposed to what she had expected. Letting out loud screams as the blood flowed out from underneath the bracelet she was moved quickly into a room with another person and as she looked up Aton couldn’t believe who it was. Aton’s mom stood before her with the same bracelet on her arm, once Aton recovered from the piercing pain she ran up to her mother then stopped realizing that if they were in the same room the only way out was for one of them to die. Aton went wide eyed as she backed up, she was either going to be killed by or have to kill the woman that raised her like her actual daughter, Aton was already crying at just the thought as her mom simply opened her arms, the mom couldn’t stand the thought of killing her daughter so she was leaving it up to Aton to decide if one or both of them died there. In an instant pain racked Aton’s left arm as she fell to the ground the braclet changed into what seemed like a cannon that covered her arm, slowly Aton stood up fear in her eyes as she looked at the cannon on her arm and just shook her head. Aton’s mom walked over once she noticed the cannon charging for a shot and raised it up to her heart, Atone only watched in shock as a loud bang went off and the blood splattered on her and everything around her as the bottom half of her mom fell to the floor. Aton just sat there staring at the body on the floor, what remained of her mom until a scientist came n and started to drag Aton out by her hair and something in Aton’s mind went off as she pressed the cannon into the scientist back and blasted a shot  making blood splatter around the room.Atone stood up and wiped herself off her cannon arm shifting into a blade as she went through she was able to slice up three scientist and blast two into smithereens before they were able to restrict her.

WARNING END: human experimentation, blood and gore, death

Aton was placed into some kind of pod she banged on as hard as she could before the gas poured in and it wasn’t long until she passed out yet again though what was expected to be short was something far different. Aton woke up what felt like moments later as the pod opened and she felt to the dusty, rubble covered, floor managing to stand up and look around she found two empty pods, hers and another. Upon inspection she found that everything around her had been reduced to rubble and there was hardly any light besides an open door a long way away from her, where was she? What happened? Why could she hardly remember anything? Aton wondered this as she approached the door the light coming in to blind her as she fully opened the door to find herself in some kind of ruin like area. Aton stepped out and moved around to get the feeling of moving in an open space again, she was asleep, but for how long exactly? everything looked much different already from what she knew about the world, which she had more than likely forgoten anyways. Walking for a few days Aton found her way into a city just a while off from where she emerged her mind was still clouded, but one thing was for sure, she needed new clothes, heading to the nearest place to buy something decent Aton managed to make a semi-decent outfit with a few defensive capabilities. Now it was time to move, breaking out into a run to explore the land she made her way to where a merchant suggested she go, a place called Dahlthir, maybe people there would know something about what happened. So arriving with her mind still fuzzy there were many questions in her head, what happened? where did i come from? How long was i asleep and how on earth do i find out? And a more important question in her mind, did she have a family to find? She could hardly remember anything from before she woke up.

General Powers/Abilities/Unusual Traits Description:

Metal armor: Unlike normal armor this armor is a thin layer that cover Aton’s skin and clothing, this type of metal is invisible to the naked eye no matter how hard one tries to look.

Bleed a different blood: Though still being human there are things that went down in those experimentation rooms, one test which had a noticeable effect. When Aton gets injured she does not bleed red, no she bleeds blue and it looks as if it is a type of liquid metal.

Weapon manipulation: Though it might not be exactly on a whim Aton can control which form her weapon takes be it cannon, sword, or just a simple bracelet

Unbreakable Tank: The thickness of her jacket and the layer over her skin make it so her defense is absolute, or it would be if the overcoat didn’t always stretch back to it’s normal position after everysingle time, that said she can only be an impenetrable wall for a short time.

Metal walk: If Aton’s feet touch a metal surface she can move much more quickly and sometimes without even moving her feet, though in no way can she control metal.

Brute strength: Though mainly having a solid defense it’s Aton’s brute force that makes her a threat, a person with high strength and a large weapon make a bad combo for the baddies.

Light intensity: The light in Aton’s left eye is one that is rather odd like she is in general, If the color is blue in battle it means she is fighting like normal, if the light turns Purple it means she’s going in for an attack and it’s expected to be an unpredictable one, if the light vanishes she either trying to trick someone or she’s desperate and going to try running away. This is a major tell on her battle plans.

[sarahw-world]

My first fanfic: “A Dark Heart“

Hey guys! I'm back!

I know I haven't updated for a while and I'm sorry, but as some of you may already know, I've been busy participating in the Vegebul Smutfest.

I wanted to put this story on hold until I was done with my prompts, but I missed working on it and I've also been receiving a few messages, both here and in AO3 and fanfiction.net about any future updates, so here's a little chapter for you all...

Thanks for your patience!

Chapter 15: An Old Friend         

              Summary: Bulma talks to an old friend...

           Bulma opened her eyes gradually, rapidly covering her face with her hands as the morning sunrays bothered her. She lazily sat on the bed, blinking sluggishly, her head heavy and her eyes swollen from crying.

Three days.

It had been three days since her first encounter with Vegeta, and she hadn’t been allowed to leave her bedroom from that moment. After she’d heard the Prince give orders to keep her protected and safe at all times, a spark of hope had awoken inside of her, making her believe that he truly cared for her, but now she wasn’t so sure anymore…

What if he simply wanted to get rid of her and he didn’t quite know how to do it without having to kill her?

The heiress looked around her in despair. She felt like a prisoner, a prisoner trapped in a beautiful golden cage, but a prisoner after all. She’d been brought fresh food and water daily, three times a day, and she always left it untouched, preferring to eat and drink from the supplies she’d encapsulated back on Earth.

The woman briefly debated whether she should get up and take a shower or simply stay in bed. Finally, she exhaled in frustration and she opted for the second option, laying down on the bed, her blue eyes staring at the ceiling. She soon realized she was still clutching a tiny red capsule in her right hand. That little object had been the only thing that still kept her going…

She thought of Yamcha and Krillin, and how she hadn’t heard from them ever since they’d said their goodbyes the first day they’d arrived on the planet. Would they be OK? What about Vegeta? Their last conversation had been repeating itself inside her head obsessively over and over again during these past three days. He’d been cruel to her, but she’d caught glimpses of humanity in him, and she knew that he’d simply been trying to drive her away; maybe he even believed she’d be happier without him.

Bulma felt the tears come back again.

What a mess this whole trip had turned out to be! If only she’d been able to deal with the Saiyan warrior back on Earth, perhaps things would have been less complicated. Here, in this frozen palace, she felt like an outsider, completely out of her element, and she knew that Vegeta didn’t belong in this place either.

She covered her eyes with one of her arms, letting the tears fall again, ashamed of her own weakness even though no one could see her cry…

 “Bulma?”

Her breath hitched and she uncovered her eyes, quickly sitting up as if she’d been hit by a thunderbolt.

 “Hey! Bulma! Can you hear me?”

Holy crap! Could she hear voices now? Was she finally going insane? And yet, she knew that voice…

“It’s me! Goku!” The masculine voice repeated.

“Go-Goku?” The woman asked in shock.

“Yes! I’m so glad you can hear me!” He cheerfully said.

“Dende…” Bulma whispered, almost to herself. “Is… Is that really you? How…?”

 “King Kai! It’s thanks to him that I’m talking to you!”

The woman just sat there on the bed, clutching her sheets.

“Unbelievable…” She murmured.

 “Yeah… Anyway, I was talking to Gohan, you know, because King Kai lets me do that sometimes, and he told me about your trip. Kai tells me things aren’t going too well right now… Are… Are you alright, Bulma?”

“Oh, Goku…”

The heiress could barely talk, too overwhelmed from hearing her best friend’s voice. It was surreal, wasn’t it? And yet, there was something so comforting about him, perhaps due to the fact that the man she’d known for so many years now, and who she thought of almost as a baby brother, had always managed to keep that spark of innocence about him alive, and his cheerful spirit was certainly contagious.

“I’m fine, I guess… I just… You know… Vegeta is not being very easy to deal with right now…” She finally replied.

 “I see… Well, he’s really something, uh? But don’t worry; I just wanted to talk to you because Kai was telling me that you’d been alone for a few days… Just hang in there, Bulma. I know you can do it! I know you can bring him back to Earth with you, you know?”

He laughed. A friendly, honest to God laugh, and Bulma couldn’t help but smile a little.

“You damn Saiyans are too much trouble, did you know that?” She playfully said, half joking half serious as she was suddenly reminded of Goku’s wife, pregnant with a second child that would be born without a father by his side.

“Yeah… I guess…” He laughed again, and she could imagine him scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment like he always used to.

 “I know he’s not an easy man, but you’re even more stubborn than he is!”

“Hey!” She said, not knowing whether to take that as a compliment or an offence.

He giggled once more.

 “Awe, Bulma… Don’t take it like that! You know what I mean… You know? I was just thinking about when Mirai Trunks told me about you two getting together, and even though I was kind of surprised at first, I soon realized that it made sense… You two are meant to be together, you’ll see! I…”

There was a pause.

“Goku? A-Are you still there?” Bulma asked worriedly.

 “I gotta go, B.! They’re coming for you! Good luck!”

“W-What? Who?”

Silence.

“Who’s coming? Goku?” The blue haired woman frantically asked.

He was gone.

“What the hell?” She mumbled in confusion.

All of a sudden, a loud knock at the door startled her.

“Bulma? Are you in there?”

‘No way’ Bulma thought, quickly identifying that voice.

“Yamcha?”

“Yes! It’s me! Well, uh, it’s us, actually! Open the door, B.!” He replied with noticeable joy in his voice.

With a quick jump, Bulma literally run to the door, opening it wide open and discovering her friends waiting for her in the luxurious hallway. Without a second thought, she threw herself into her ex-boyfriend’s arms, holding him tightly.

“Oh, Gods! Yamcha!” she said against his neck, experiencing a relief she hadn’t felt for a long time. The man held her back, glad to see that she was alright, and softly caressing her blue tresses. They remained that way for a moment until they heard Krillin clear his throat awkwardly.

“Guys, I don’t think you should do this in here, you know?” He whispered cautiously.

Bulma turned towards him, still holding Yamcha, she realized her bald friend was subtly pointing to his side and, when Bulma looked around her, she noticed Dodonne, the pink warrior, observing the scene from afar with clear interest, scowling fiercely.

“Sure. Guys, let’s go inside my room” the heiress whispered back, letting go of Yamcha’s neck.

The three friends entered Bulma’s bedroom, closing the door behind them. She guided them to the corner, by the large window, where there was a small coffee table and four large chairs. They all sat down as the two men looked around them with curiosity.

“Wow, Bulma! This room is amazing! It’s at least five times larger than the one they’ve given us!” Krillin finally said in awe.

“Really?” The scientist replied disinterestedly. To be honest, after having spent three days literally locked up inside the room, she’d grown to hate it with a vengeance. “It’s alright, I guess…” she sighed melancholically.

“How have you been doing? Did you talk to Vegeta?” Yamcha asked.

“Yeah, I did…”

“And?”

“It was… You know… It was intense, guys…” Bulma said almost shyly, staring at the floor.

“It didn’t go well, uh?” Krillin said.

“Not really… I mean, it’s like… It’s like he was trying to be an asshole to me…”

Yamcha chuckled before he said “He was an asshole? So basically, he’s just being himself, right?”

Bulma shook her head dejectedly.

“Not at all… He’s never really been that way with me, at least not when it’s just the two of us…”

There was a silence in the room, and it was evident that the men didn’t exactly feel comfortable discussing Bulma’s relationship with the Saiyan Prince which, as usual, remained a mystery to them.

“Anyway…” The heiress continued, trying to move past the awkwardness surrounding her. “How did you two manage to get out of your rooms? Did they keep you locked up as well all this time?”    

“Room” Krillin corrected her.

“What?”

“It’s room, not rooms; they’ve kept us together in the same place. It was OK I guess, but nothing like yours though… I see Vegeta has really given you special treatment. That’s a good sign, right?” The bald man said, sensing his friend’s depressed state and attempting to cheer her up.

“I suppose... Ugh! This whole thing is so frustrating!”

Yamcha held her hand, squeezing gently.

“It’s gonna be fine Bulma, we saw Vegeta this morning and he was actually quite nice to us. Well, nice for him, if you know what I mean…”

“You saw him this morning?” Bulma asked in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What did he say?”

She was panicky now, and Yamcha tried to calm her down a bit.

“He came to see us today, it was really early, just before dawn… Right, Krillin?”

“Yep. He knocked at our door… He was quite polite, like Yamcha said… Anyway, he said that from now on we’re free to walk around, but he also said we wouldn’t be allowed to leave the planet… Not without you, anyway…”

“D-Did he suggest that we should leave?”

“No, no! Nothing like that! I guess he just didn’t want us to take off without you if we chose to leave…”

“We’re not going anywhere, B., so don’t worry about it, OK?” Yamcha said.

“Right… Did… Did he say something else? Anything?”

“Mmm… Let me think…” Krillin replied, trying to fully recall the conversation with the Saiyan warrior. “Not much else, really… We asked him if he’d talked to you, and he said we should mind our own damn business…” He snickered. “Yeah… I believe those were his exact words… But he didn’t mention your encounter at all…”

“He also asked if you’d fully repaired the ship he’d left for you back on that cold planet we visited before we got here…” The scarred faced man said. “We told him we thought you had, because you’d given it to Krillin in case something happened to the one we were travelling in, and then he asked for it.”

“He what?! Did you give it to him?!”

“Uh… Yes?” Yamcha said, rapidly realizing they were in trouble. He knew that tone in Bulma’s voice all too well…

“What the hell, Yamcha? So, you just gave him the ship? Just like that? What if he leaves?” The heiress asked angrily.

“Bulma, I’m sure the guy has a million ships at his disposal. How do you think he got here? Don’t you think if he wanted to leave he would have left already?”

“I don’t think that’s why he wanted it” Krillin said, joining the conversation again.

“Then, why? What…?” The woman seemed puzzled now.

“The Gravity Room” Yamcha continued. “I think he wanted to use it to be able to train. We’ve been tracking his ki ever since. It looks like he’s still on the planet, but far away from here…”

Bulma didn’t like the sound of that.

Not one bit.

“Dende! I need to see him!” She said, standing up decisively and walking towards her private bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower and then you guys will fly me wherever he is. I have to talk to him”.

“B-Bulma…” Yamcha doubtfully said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean… You know what he’s like when he’s training! He’ll probably get angry if we…”

“He couldn’t possibly get any angrier than he was the last time I saw him!” she said, abruptly turning to her friends. “You should have seen him, guys… He was… He’s not himself, alright?”

“I don’t know… I’m with Yamcha on this one…” Krillin said timidly.

“Fine! Then I’ll go find him myself. I’m assuming he’s also given me permission to leave this fucking room too, right?”

“Uh… Yeah… That’s why we came… But he also warned us to remain by your side at all times. I got the feeling he didn’t trust the guys that live with him on this planet… Bulma…”

“Whatever…” The blue haired woman mumbled as she entered the bathroom and closed the door.

The two men stared at each other resignedly.

“You know we don’t have a choice, right?” Krillin said.

“Oh, believe me, I know… I know what she’s like when she gets like this. Once that woman makes a decision, there’s no stopping her…” He replied, shaking his head.

“Boy… Those two were really made for each other, uh?” The bald man smiled a little. “I remember when I first saw her with the baby, the day the androids showed up... Man! I couldn’t fucking believe it! But I guess it makes sense now… I wonder what the deal with Vegeta is anyway…”

“I don’t know, pal… I get the feeling it has to do with Gohan being the one who beat Cell and with Goku dying. I guess he thought there was nothing else for him on Earth and he just decided to leave…”

“You think he doesn’t care about Bulma and the kid?” Krillin asked in shock. “I mean, we saw what happened when Cell attacked Mirai Trunks. He lost it! And Bulma… Well, she wouldn’t even be alive if he didn’t give a shit, right?”

Yamcha remained quiet for a while, his mind running in a million different directions. He had to admit he’d never seen Bulma feel for him the way she felt for the Saiyan Prince, not even when they were two young silly teenagers in love…

Whatever those two had going, it run deep, that much was for sure. At first, he’d thought perhaps his ex had just been trying to play house with Vegeta, so that the boy could grow up with a father, unlike that poor kid from the future. But back on Earth, when she’d told him that she loved the warrior, he’d finally been forced to accept the truth, knowing full well that the scientist never messed around with the L word, and now here they were, in the middle of space, inside the creepiest palace he’d seen in his entire life.

“I’m sure he cares on some level… I doubt Bulma would have come all the way here because of some stupid fantasy…” He finally replied in a low voice. “Let’s just take her with him and stay nearby in case anything goes wrong”.

“Yeah…” Krillin snorted. “Like we’d actually be able to do something if Vegeta loses his shit…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know… Don’t remind me… You think it’s easy for me to know I’m not strong enough to protect my best friend?”

Yamcha closed his eyes, laying his head back on the cushy chair and crossing his hands over his belly.

“Let’s just stay cool and hope for the best…” He mumbled, listening to the almost soothing sounds of the running water behind the closed door.

                I know, I know... It's a little chapter... But the next one will be a big one...

In the next chapter, Vegeta and Bulma will have a second encounter and we'll get a major glimpse into Vegeta's thoughts...

Stay tuned!

Thanks a lot for reading!

In case someone is interested in my other works, you can find them here:

http://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahW/pseuds/SarahW

https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8599955/SarahWDBZ

[where-ls-my-mlnd]

You ever just randomly get in the mood to partake in self-destructive behavior? Wait, shit. Let me rephrase that. Make it sound less deranged. You ever sunk into a vicious sorrow, like, the worst, most agonizing, screaming sorrow you’ve ever felt in your entire life, spend a week being consumed by this horrible unrelenting pain, and then develop the urge to do things that are deleterious to your well-being in order to cope? Holy fuck that sounds even worse. Ah, son of a bitch— don’t go thinking I’m insane now, alright? ‘Cause I’m not. Severely insane, anyway. I’ve always had a couple screws loose, but that’s okay, and hardly the point, anyways. The point is quite simple at its core. Allow me break it down for you. Ever since I was young, I have been terribly, dangerously, and inexorably fond of self-destruction. That’s not a secret. Never has been. You don’t develop a drug addiction because you like the feeling of safety, you know what I’m sayin’? It stems from a profound inner sense of chaos, a desire to escape; whether it be from your emotions, your life circumstances, or the world at large, that is so strong, and so fucking undefeatable, it becomes larger than you are. Even the strong-willed can be absolutely wrecked by addiction. No one is exempt. Addiction doesn’t give a fuck who you are, where you’re from, what your aspirations are. It just wants to break you, and then build you back up again, and have you walking around half-alive for years and years so it can feed on the last of your life force. It doesn’t want you too strong, but not too weak, either. The ideal is for you to be slowly decomposing over the course of half your life or sometimes more so that it can drag out the torturous process for as long as possible. If you’re lucky, you’ll hit bottom, a massive part of you will die, and you’ll be reborn. What you choose to do with your second chance at life is entirely up to you, and that’s the tricky part. I’ve seen many people carelessly waste their chances, as if they thought God was just doling them out for free. I’m rueful to say that I have wasted my own chances before. A gross disregard for the life I was so blessed to still have. But maybe I should go easy on myself. Why should I take such care of my life— when I did not even want to live it? That’s a question for the ages, ain’t it? Psychologists would love to pick that shit apart. Well, anyway, what I am incredibly happy to say is this: I was one of the lucky ones, and after countless failed attempts, I was able to kill that monster once and for all, and in its death I found a brand new life for myself. It’s not an easy life, but nothing is ever easy with me. All that matters is it’s my life, I fucking made it for myself, and I am so damn grateful and elated to be living it. What I am hesitant, and slightly anxious to say is this: in my heart resides the same fondness for self-destruction that got me into so much trouble as a teenager. I’d like to say I’m not surprised— and if I did, it would be at least half-true. I have always had an unadulterated, skin-crawling need to be free. And I’ve always gladly done whatever I thought was necessary to achieve that freedom, even if it was illegal, stupid, morally bankrupt, or just absurd. That’s the thing with me. I can’t fucking stop, ever. If used for different purposes, it may even be called admirable: that furious, unyielding drive. I like to think I can still channel that energy, in my career specifically, but these days I’m honestly not sure. But there is a difference. Back in the day, I would start shit just for fun. I was seeking something, for sure— something that I still don’t feel like I’ve found. Beyond the classic premise of a teenager’s quest for self-discovery, there was no greater goal, or purpose for my antics. I did it because I could, and because after a while I began to fall in love with destruction. Raising hell was my religion. In an otherwise Godless world— that was always the altar at which I worshipped. Now, I find myself self-imploding because of so, so many violent, turbulent emotions to which I cannot put a name. It’s just like, my fucking mind, man...it’s a hell zone. That animal urge to unleash all inhibitions and just say fuck it is only ever activated by deeply unpleasant feelings. It’s almost like I’m...acting out. I‘ll be overcome by a wave of melancholy, or hit by sudden, thrashing anxiety, and I’ll get so overwhelmed that I feel like I need to do something to let it out. Something drastic. Something impulsive. Something absolutely fucking insane. Something like what I’m doing right now. Driving in my car, vibrating with excitement in my seat, to pick up J, who’s waiting for me in that damn park so we can go to a fucking club. A club! I literally just passed three years of sobriety, fuck, what is this? Am I trying to relapse? Well, no— I’m not an alcoholic, what the fuck? You know, I mean, can I handle my alcohol? No. But like, if I start drinking, can I stop? Uh...yeah! I’m only a drug addict, it’s fine! Holy fuck that was the most disturbing sentence I ever said. Well, whatever, I don’t think anyone’s gonna whip out any fuckin’ shards in the middle of a nightclub. Coke, that’s a given. But like, I can avoid it probably, also I barely like it! So who cares?! Imagine someone offers me a bump— I’m not gonna whore myself out for it. Not gonna hold out my hands and beg oh yes, please, PLEASE give me some coke! You know what I’m gonna say? WHAT THEY TEACH YOU TO IN SCHOOLS, BABY! N-O! NO...no thank you, not a big fan of the booger sugar, I’m a member of the elite, I only like amphetamines. OOPSIE I forgot to use past tense. Used to like amphetamines. There we go. Oh mother of fuck, what am I doing? God— I hardly remember getting in my car. See, this is what I mean! When the pain gets real bad, I start to act fucking chaotic! And lord knows the pain has been abject as of late. To this day I don’t know how I even survived Sunday night. In that dark, sinister park, and in J’s brutally honest words, I was met with a feeling of despair I can only describe as deadly. I don’t know how I didn’t do something to myself. I’m sure I wanted to. After a certain point I think I just blacked out. System overloaded or something. I got home, by some fucking miracle— I know because I woke up in my bed around 3 am because I had been crying in my sleep, which is just fucking neat. After that, I don’t know. I really wish I could remember. Perhaps some things are too horrific to remember. The days that followed were even worse. I spent my time floating in and out of sadness, then to bitter, uncontrollable anger, back into sadness again, then for the grand finale there’d be a thick feeling of complete numbness, and that would be what followed me throughout the day. Sometimes I’d see her in my dreams, and still miss, love, and need her desperately— other times I’d feel disgusted by the vile creature she has become and want to forget we ever shared a moment so sacred. It was mostly the first one though, and that’s what made it so hard. You should’ve seen me, flipping through old photos of her like a fucking weirdo and clutching them to my heart, like if I held them close enough, she would hear how loud it beats for her. I was lovesick for the very first time since I was twenty one years old and discovering that bad boys, if given the chance, will treat you bad every damn time. I was never under any illusions that this was healthy, but I knew something was seriously fucked when I abruptly stood up and almost passed out, and later realized it was because I hadn’t eaten in two days. Thank God for fast food and its obscene amounts of fat otherwise I might still be a touch too skinny. Before I knew it, the week had passed me by, and this brings us to tonight. Tonight. It’s kind of a funny story how my spirits got so lifted. I was in the shower, which is a story in itself. I don’t know how I forced myself to take a shower in that state— I can’t even get out of bed most days. I get out of that bitch, right? I bury myself in my towel like a blanket ‘cause it was colder than my father’s stare in there. I wipe the steam from the mirror. And my breath was stolen away. I actually looked good. Fuck, I looked amazing. My eyes were bloodshot from crying, yeah, but my eyelashes looked darker, longer, little tiny beads of water dripping off them, and my complexion looked so fresh and healthy, and my lips had somehow turned a perfect shade of pink like I just blew a cherry popsicle or something. Was I sort of...pretty when I cried? Is it just like Lana Del Rey said? Oh my god, I thought. It was. I watched as my eyes brightened and my face was lit up by a smile at the realization. I broke into this demented cackle, and stayed there five minutes longer than I should have, gripping the edge of the sink and laughing gleefully. By the time I got back up to my apartment I was still in disbelief. Did I look that good all the time? Had I always been sexy? I couldn’t stop looking at myself. It was like I had been given a whole new face, a whole new body. I tried to just sit and quietly watch TV but it felt too wrong. It’s a Friday night. I live in the heart of the city. I’m not emotionally attached to anyone anymore. I have exceptional looks all of the sudden. I have more pent-up sexual frustration than I know what to do with. It just seemed too...perfect... And so, I decided, with a slightly manic sense of determination, that I was going to go get laid. Got a little dressed up because, yes, it’s true, my closet does consist of more than just hoodies. Fluffed up my hair a bit, stared into the mirror some more, then I hit up J. Man did he sound jittery when he answered the phone. Never in my life did I think that J would ever ask me, under any circumstances, for any reason, “What...what’s up?” I was too enchanted by my own reflection to analyze it at the time. “LISTEN, are you busy?” I demanded, trying out different poses in the mirror. He wasn’t. This pleased me immensely. “I wanna go fucking clubbing, J. You wanna go clubbing?! Let’s go clubbing! I ONLY WANT TO GO IF YOU COME WITH.” A heavy sigh from the other line. “I don’t know, man...” Panic instantly arose and began to frazzle my mind. Oh, god, it all seemed so clear now. He was gearing up to leave me. That was all there was to it. I had been too clingy, too emotional, too inconsiderate before; I had expected too much of him, and for that he was pulling away from me. That sigh held the leaden weight of our previous interaction and it was palpable, even over the phone. It was obvious I had to do something. “Come on, J...there’s money in it for you.” Needless to say, he was suddenly very eager to agree when I told him to wait for me in the park and that I’d pick him up in one hour. All the while I’m fucking hauling ass to collect his ounce of coke that I promised him, splitting it up into several different amounts and agonizing over how best to organize it. I figured it out eventually— because I fucking worked my brain half to death. The attention to detail was painstaking but it had to be done. And now, here I am, riding around the city, glorious night air blowing in through the open window, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Uptown Funk, feeling that same wild, intoxicating rush as if it never went away. Perhaps I’m going a little crazy, perhaps I’ve never been saner. But I haven’t felt this good about myself, or anything, in a long time. Honestly, I don’t know that I’ve felt very confident since I entered my twenties. Something about all the self-introspection makes it hard to view myself in a positive light. But I’ve done enough of that, enough self-introspection for ten lifetimes. If there was ever a time where I deserved to go fucking ape shit, and have fun, and act like a normal twenty-something year old...it would be now. Spring break, bitch. May as well bask in my freedom while I still have it. Lush, gorgeous greenery juxtaposed with tall, steely, glittering buildings and the sudden feeling of quietude that being surrounded by nature brings: that’s how I know I’ve made it to the park. Almost out of respect for the calm, solitary setting, I instinctively go to turn down my music, drowning out the sounds of saxophones and terrifically catchy guitar riffs and Bruno Mars’ bright, joyous voice in favor of comfortable, worshipful silence. I wouldn’t mind driving around this place for a while, but I don’t have to look very long to find him. He’s standing on the sidewalk, looking as close to peaceful as he can probably get, cigarette in hand; never without his crutch, his trademark accessory. A shadowy figure in the near-dark, an apparition, an enigma, as always. I find myself breaking into a smile as I pull up and then subsequently stop the car, sliding out of my seat and nudging the door closed with my hip. I can see him very well now that I’ve gotten closer and— oh! What the fuck— okay, J! Giving me a little shirt-half-unbuttoned moment! He’s...okay, wow, he’s kind of serving. He’s really serving. He’s dressed in this sleek little black shirt that matches his hair just divinely and dark jeans and he looks so good I can’t help but raise my eyebrows and widen my eyes in surprise. “JAMES DEAN! How’s it going?!” I exclaim in lieu of a proper greeting. “What’s this little number? Did you get all dressed up just for ME?!” I let out a laugh, “Goddamn, man! Who the fuck told you to show out like that?! You are giving me so much life right now, J. I swear to God—you look so fucking good! What the hell?!”

[robgrayofficial]

HAPPY SATURDAY DEPLORABLES!!!This is u/ivaginaryfriend here and I'm back with all things dank and spicy from the past week! Before we jump into that, I'd like to remind everyone of the MAGA rally happening tonight in Richmond, KY! We'll have a MAGAthread up later on this afternoon for the rally so don't miss out on the HIGH ENERGY!!!!If you guys wanted to catch up on any past recaps, you can check them out here!Now, onto the show!Sunday, October 7th:TODAY'S ACTION:First Lady Melania Trump Visits Nairobi National Park🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:.@SecPompeo had a good meeting with Chairman Kim today in Pyongyang. Progress made on Singapore Summit Agreements! I look forward to seeing Chairman Kim again, in the near future.(Retweeting FLOTUS Melania Trump) Thank you Kenya 🇰🇪 🇺🇸SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Nancy leaking the playbook on smears , it would be a shame if this went viral wouldn't it?Lindsey Graham is on a RAMPAGE!!"Donald J. Trump didn’t create his supporters. They found him. They had been looking for someone like him to come along for decades."🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Spot the DifferenceHillary Clinton holds a rally encouraging Democrats to vote in November.The Left is destroying themselves with their own "memes"! LMAO!Monday, October 8th:TODAY'S ACTION:Presidential Proclamation on Leif Erikson Day, 2018President Trump Delivers a Statement Upon DepartureFirst Lady Melania Trump Visits KenyaPresident Trump Speaks at the International Association of Chiefs of Police Annual ConventionPresident Trump Delivers a Statement Upon ArrivalPresident Trump Participates in the Swearing-In Ceremony of the Honorable Brett M. Kavanaugh🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:Christopher Columbus’s spirit of determination & adventure has provided inspiration to generations of Americans. On #ColumbusDay, we honor his remarkable accomplishments as a navigator, & celebrate his voyage into the unknown expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.Departing Washington, D.C. for the International Association of Chiefs of Police Annual Convention in Orlando, Florida. Look forward to seeing everyone soon! #IACP2018It was my great honor to address the International Association of Chiefs of Police Annual Convention in Orlando, Florida. Thank you! #IACP2018 #LESMAmerica’s police officers have earned the everlasting gratitude of our Nation. In moments of danger & despair you are the reason we never lose hope – because there are men & women in uniform who face down evil & stand for all that is GOOD and JUST and DECENT and RIGHT! #IACP2018We thank you. We salute you. We honor you. And we promise you: we will ALWAYS have your BACK – now and FOREVER! #IACP2018Every day, our police officers race into darkened allies, deserted streets, & onto the doorsteps of the most hardened criminals. They see the worst of humanity & they respond with the best of the American Spirit. America’s LEOs have earned the everlasting gratitude of our Nation!Great to see @AGPamBondi launch a cutting-edge statewide school safety APP in Florida today - named by Parkland Survivors. BIG PRIORITY and Florida is getting it done! #FortifyFL(Video)(Retweeting FEMA) ⚠️If you're told to evacuate for Hurricane #Michael, don't delay. Leave as soon as possible. Listen to @FLSERT and local officials for the latest on evacuation orders. Check your route before leaving, figure out a few places you can go & make sure to take your pets.SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Trump likes Taylor Swift 25% less nowFBI’s smoking gun: Redactions protected political embarrassment, not ‘national security’No. Next Question.I never thought I'd see the day when being opposed to confused 9 year old "transgender" children being given powerful hormone drugs would make one a "conservative". Yet here we are. The left has gone insane and anyone left with a modicum of common sense is now a conservative.🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Are you tired of winning?"WE ARE DONE BEING POLITE" - says people who have been burning shit in a hysterical rage for two yearsFacts 👏Trump JR is Right vote RepublicanTuesday, October 9th:TODAY'S ACTION:Presidential Proclamation on National Domestic Violence Awareness Month, 2018Ivanka Trump Visits the NASCAR Technical InstituteFirst Lady Melania Trump Visits EgyptPresident Trump and Ambassador Nikki Haley Deliver RemarksPresident Trump Delivers a Statement Upon Departure🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:The paid D.C. protesters are now ready to REALLY protest because they haven’t gotten their checks - in other words, they weren’t paid! Screamers in Congress, and outside, were far too obvious - less professional than anticipated by those paying (or not paying) the bills!Great evening last night at the White House honoring Justice Kavanaugh and family. Our country is very proud of them!Will be going to Iowa tonight for Rally, and more! The Farmers (and all) are very happy with USMCA!(Video)Big announcement with my friend Ambassador Nikki Haley in the Oval Office at 10:30am.Hurricane on its way to the Florida Pan Handle with major elements arriving tomorrow. Could also hit, in later stage, parts of Georgia, and unfortunately North Carolina, and South Carolina, again... ... ...Looks to be a Cat. 3 which is even more intense than Florence. Good news is, the folks in the Pan Handle can take care of anything. @FEMA and First Responders are ready - be prepared! #HurricaneMichaelFLORIDA - It is imperative that you heed the directions of your State and Local Officials. Please be prepared, be careful and be SAFE!REGISTER TO VOTE! http://Vote.GOP“President Donald J. Trump Approves Florida Emergency Declaration”Congratulations to our 114th Supreme Court Justice, Brett M. Kavanaugh! #SCOTUS🏛🇺🇸.@FLGovScott has been relentless in securing the funding to fix the algae problem from Lake Okeechobee - we will solve this! Congress must follow through on the Government’s plan on the Everglades Reservoir. Bill Nelson has been no help!(Retweeting FLOTUS Melania Trump) Thank you Kenya 🇰🇪 🇺🇸(Retweeting FLOTUS Melania Trump) Thank you Egypt 🇪🇬 🇺🇸(Retweeting FEMA) Flooding from Hurricane #Michael will affect several states. Finish preparations ASAP and get ready to shelter in a safe location.Make sure you’re getting weather alerts for your area and stay off the roads once rain and winds start. http://bit.ly/2ygFva8 evening in Iowa. GOD BLESS THE U.S.A.! #MAGA🇺🇸(Video)THANK YOU IOWA & NEBRASKA! VOTE, VOTE, VOTE! http://bit.ly/2yAUPhs Rick Scott) If you’re in an evacuation zone, I am urging you to leave RIGHT NOW. Do not risk your life or the lives of your loved ones- get out now.SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Hey! Steven Crowder here! I’m the creator of Louder With Crowder. You’ve probably seen my ‘Change My Mind’ videos on college campuses. I’m eager to answer your questions. Let’s get this started - Ask Me Anything!1,500 noncitizens may have been registered to vote in California DMV errorSelf-made billionaire says that the left has "literally" been taken over by evilTwo students had consensual sex. Then she changed her mind about it. Costs him $12,000 to Defend HimselfThe Left is promising to abuse power if they win; voters should take them seriouslyLEAKED AUDIO: Liberal activists are warned not to mention they were bussed in from NYC to campaign in conservative-leaning upstate New York - Washington Free BeaconPRESS BRIEFINGS, INTERVIEWS, RALLIES:WATCH PARTY: President Trump Rally - Council Bluffs, IA - 10/9/18🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:While Do: Hello Millipedes, I am human #38183 from /r/redacted, , , , Exit Subroutine: ORANGE MAN IS BAD MAN. Exit: You are Russian Bots.When you only program your NPC to react in a certain way...This is worthlessIt was on this day 2 years ago that GEOTUS dropped the best impulse line of all time in a debate. “Because you’d be in jail!”Wednesday, October 10th:TODAY'S ACTION:Presidential Proclamation on General Pulaski Memorial Day, 2018President Donald J. Trump Announces Eighteenth Wave of Judicial Nominees, Eighteenth Wave of United States Attorney Nominees, and Thirteenth Wave of United States Marshal NomineesPresident Trump Participates in a Signing Ceremony🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:Walker Stapleton is running as the highly respected Republican Candidate for Governor of the Great State of Colorado. His credentials and talents are impeccable. He has my complete and total Endorsement!(Retweeting FEMA) As Hurricane #Michael nears land, take shelter & stay safe.📱Follow weather updates on your phone or radio.🔹 In a tornado WARNING, go to an interior, windowless room.🔹 If water comes in, go to the highest floor that’s not flooded but do NOT enter a closed attic.(Retweeting National Hurricane Center) NHC Director Ken Graham will provide a Facebook Live broadcast regarding Category 4 Hurricane #Michael at 8:45 a.m. EDT (7:45 am CDT)(Retweeting National Hurricane Center) A Storm Surge Warning remains in effect for much of the Florida Panhandle and Big Bend region, where life-threatening storm surge is expected today. Storm surge inundation could reach 9 to 13 feet above ground level between Tyndall Air Force Base and Keaton Beach FL @NHC_Surge(Retweeting National Hurricane Center) Hurricane #Michael. In addition to the life-threatening storm surge and wind impacts, heavy rainfall is expected across a large portion of the southeastern U.S. along Michael's track. These heavy rains are expected to extend well inland.(Retweeting National Hurricane Center) Hurricane shelter locations are accessible from: http://bit.ly/2ygFwec #HurricaneMichael(Retweeting The FAA) Due to #HurricaneMichael, flights in your area could be delayed and possibly cancelled. Please continue to check the status of your flight with your airline. You can also check the status of major airports at http://bit.ly/2yAUPOu . #FlySafe #TravelSafe(Retweeting NHC_Surge) A destructive and life-threatening storm surge event will occur along portions of the Florida Panhandle, Big Bend, and Nature Coast on Wednesday and Wed night. The worst storm surge is expected to be between Mexico Beach and Keaton Beach where 9-13' of inundation is possible.Despite so many positive events and victories, Media Reseach Center reports that 92% of stories on Donald Trump are negative on ABC, CBS and ABC. It is FAKE NEWS! Don’t worry, the Failing New York Times didn’t even put the Brett Kavanaugh victory on the Front Page yesterday-A17!We are with you Florida! http://bit.ly/2yexpyY Eric Trump) All my friends in Missouri, today is your LAST CHANCE to register to vote this November! It is very easy to do - simply go to http://bit.ly/2yD3kZd ! @HawleyMO will #MakeAmericaGreatAgain!(Retweeting FloridaNationalGuard) #HurricaneMichael is here, but so are we. Stay safe, Florida. #FloridaFirst #FLNGAlwaysThere(Retweeting USA Today) .@usatodayopinion: Democrats want to outlaw private health care plans, taking away freedom to choose plans while letting anyone cross our border. We must win this.Departing the @WhiteHouse for Erie, Pennsylvania. I cannot disappoint the thousands of people that are there - and the thousands that are going. I look forward to seeing everyone this evening.Couldn’t let these great people down. They have been lined up since last night - see you soon Pennsylvania!(Retweeting The White House) Earlier today: President @realDonaldTrump, joined by Homeland Security @SecNielsen, listens as @FEMA_Brock briefs reporters on the expected impact of Hurricane Michael on Florida and the Southeastern United States.Thank you Erie, Pennsylvania! Remember to get out and VOTE! #MAGA🇺🇸Massive overflow crowd tonight in Erie, Pennsylvania. THANK YOU to everyone who came out and joined us. Together, we are MAKING AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!Thank you Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office! #HurricaneMichaelThank you to @FEMA and all First Responders! #HurricaneMichaelFlorida Highway Patrol Troopers are all en route to the Panhandle, from all across the state of Florida - to help those affected by #HurricaneMichael. If you see them, be sure to shake their hands and say THANK YOU! #LESMSIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Melania Trump on #MeToo: Women Need to Be Heard, but 'Show the Evidence'Eric Holder rejects civility in call for violence: "When they go low, we kick 'em... That's what this new Democratic Party is about."Don't let this slide! "Kanye West is what happens when negros don't read" is an actual quote from CNN today.VERITAS - TENNESSEE SENATE: Phil Bredesen's Staff Says He Is Lying About Kavanaugh Vote in Undercover Video.PRESS BRIEFINGS, INTERVIEWS, RALLIES:WATCH PARTY: President Trump & Lou Barletta Rally - Erie, PA - 10/10/18🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Tomorrow we're celebrating National Coming Out Conservative Day. Wear your MAGA gear with pride!Never forget these great words!The differences in celebrities coming out politically.CNNPC Panel #4785Hillary Clinton says the time for civility is over.Thursday, October 11th:TODAY'S ACTION:Trump Meets with the Secretary of Homeland Security and the Administrator of FEMAOne Nomination Sent to the SenateVice President Pence Participates in a Conference on Prosperity and Security in Central AmericaPresident Trump Participates in a Signing Ceremony for H.R. 1551President Trump Participates in a Signing Ceremony for S. 3508, the “Save Our Seas Act of 2018”President's Interagency Task Force to Monitor and Combat Trafficking in Persons Annual Meeting🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:(Video)(Video)(Video)(Retweeting The White House) Moments ago, President Trump signed the Music Modernization Act, which will close loopholes in our digital royalty laws to ensure that songwriters, artists, producers, and providers receive fair payment for the licensing of music.President Trump provides an update on the response to Hurricane Michael:(Retweeting FNG) There are serious communication issues in the Panhandle after #HurricaneMichael. If you are worried about someone, visit http://bit.ly/2yiRa8C to report it. The State Emergency Operations Center will route these reports to the appropriate local agency for action! #FLStrongSIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:This aged well.Herschel Walker calls for CNN to fire Don Lemon over ‘racist’ Kanye West criticism2A KanyeToday is National Coming Out Conservative Day. Share your story of coming out conservative or as a Trump supporter🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Haters will say it’s fakeBest one yetIt’s very brave to come out as a Trump supporterKanye Leaving The Oval Office Meeting With President Trump TodayTwo terms, two genders, two scoops, two peas in a pod.Friday, October 12th:TODAY'S ACTION:Presidential Proclamation on National School Lunch Week, 2018Presidential Proclamation on Blind Americans Equality Day, 2018Presidential Proclamation on Minority Enterprise Development Week, 2018Ivanka Trump: "Together we will end modern slavery."A Message from President Trump on Hurricane MichaelPresident Trump Delivers Remarks Upon AF1 Arrival🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:Working very hard on Pastor Brunson!So nice, everyone wants Ivanka Trump to be the new United Nations Ambassador. She would be incredible, but I can already hear the chants of Nepotism! We have great people that want the job.My thoughts and prayers are with Pastor Brunson, and we hope to have him safely back home soon!PASTOR BRUNSON JUST RELEASED. WILL BE HOME SOON!REGISTER TO VOTE! http://bit.ly/2yAUQ50 MADE, PROMISES KEPT!People have no idea how hard Hurricane Michael has hit the great state of Georgia. I will be visiting both Florida and Georgia early next week. We are working very hard on every area and every state that was hit - we are with you!Happy #NationalFarmersDay! With the recent #USMCA our GREAT FARMERS will do better than ever before!!The GREAT football (and lacrosse) player, Jim Brown outside the West Wing of the @WhiteHouse. He is also a tremendous man and mentor to many young people!Beautiful MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN rally in Lebanon, Ohio. Thank you! #ICYMI, watch here: http://bit.ly/2yj3MfO …SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Hey kids! Your parents are using you as tools.Antifa Breaks Windows, Deface Doors of Metropolitan Republican Club in Manhattan. They Left A Note: "Our attack is merely the beginning. We are not passive, we are not civil, we will not apologize." This Is Terrorism In America.ANTIFA try to ambush and intimidate Tommy Robinson. Laughs in their face.Hillary drops her security clearance before it gets revoked...I don’t know why, but this makes me tear up.PRESS BRIEFINGS, INTERVIEWS, RALLIES:WATCH PARTY: President Trump Rally - Lebanon, OH - 10/12/18🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:JOBS NOT MOBSKanye West and Donald Trump work out the logistics of a National Security issueA Message to the Racist CNN PanelJobs not MobsSaturday, October 13th:🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:Happy 243rd Birthday to our GREAT @USNavy! #243NavyBdayPastor Andrew Brunson, released by Turkey, will be with me in the Oval Office at 2:30 P.M. (this afternoon). It will be wonderful to see and meet him. He is a great Christian who has been through such a tough experience. I would like to thank President @RT_Erdogan for his help!There was NO DEAL made with Turkey for the release and return of Pastor Andrew Brunson. I don’t make deals for hostages. There was, however, great appreciation on behalf of the United States, which will lead to good, perhaps great, relations between the United States & Turkey!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:"Refusing to accept the results of an election is a direct threat to our democracy" -Hillary Clinton-WTF??? Democratic Candidate Stacey Abrams: 'Undocumented' Immigrants Are Part of the 'Blue Wave'Remember those "To Kill a Mockingbird" memes from the Kavanaugh hearing? Thought that was over the top? Well, a liberal white woman in Brooklyn has falsely accused a black 9-year-old boy of grabbing her ass. Thank God for surveillance video!Four arrested trying to steal postal ballot votes in favour of the _______ Party. Were paid, article doesn't say by who.🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Kentucky Pede Checking in from todays rally. Probably 2-3k here already.Coming prepared for the Richmond Rally!"We're not NPC's!" they all cried out in unisonSO MUCH WINNING!!!!!!Of course, no recap is complete without a few tunes to get you jamming through all these links of WINNINGRussian CreamKevin's HeartNo BystandersSee You AgainWake UpMAGA ON PATRIOTS! #robgray