#trying to only count the things that could reasonably be canon and I’m pretty sure those aren’t lol

[aislinrayne]

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱] [𝔖𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Lockwood wants Reader to go to the hospital. Reader does not want to go to the hospital. A mysterious visitor arrives...

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: M

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Language, alluded medical trauma, Reader has a past, dealing with fear via anger, allusions to unfortunate and untimely demise, canon typical violence... pretty sure that covers it!

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Two chapters in one week?? Who am I. There's only been a few major changes to this one since the original release as I was actually pretty happy with it, so I didn't want to make you wait any longer than was 100% necessary. Shorter word count on this one too since the next two are already monsters

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.66k

⇠ 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯

  “For the last time, I am not going to the fucking hospital!” she spits, the final threads of her restraint turning to spider’s silk and breaking under the weight of the fear hiding behind her anger.  Lockwood’s narrowed eyes glare daggers at her across the thinking cloth.  He scoffs as he leans back, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

  He swears he can see steam pouring from her ears.  She swears he’s an argumentative prick.

  Their… ‘disagreement’ has been slowly building over the course of several hours, culminating in an explosion of epic proportions in the kitchen around lunch time.  She insists she’s fine, that she barely even has a headache left over from the incident the night before.  He insists she’s irritable, and is clearly having difficulties focusing.  George – who had spent the previous night in his old room after losing track of time researching an upcoming case – chimes in to mention that isn’t exactly out of the ordinary, and the look she gives him in response could probably peel paint.

  He mutters something under his breath about picking something up from Arif’s as he flees the room, grabbing his coat from the floor in front of its designated hook and opening their front door just as Lucy reaches the top step.  She quirks an eyebrow and opens her mouth to question his urgent departure, but he vehemently shakes his head to silence her.  Grabbing her by the wrist, he drags her behind him as he flees the scene of what he is certain will soon to be a crime.

  The first one to break the terse silence of their glaring contest is Lockwood.

  “Look, I’m not trying to be an arse-”

  “Since when do you have to try?” she interjects bitterly, pushing away from where she’d been leaning against the counter and raising her arms to rake her fingers through her hair.  He grits his teeth, trying to bite back a scathing rebuttal.  Her fingers lace behind her head and she stares at the ceiling as if begging for strength.  She paces back and forth in front of the kitchen sink like a caged animal, and his heart aches at the sight.  Even if he disregards whatever past she’s unwilling to disclose and only considers what he knows about the strength and nature of her talent, it’s understandable why she isn’t keen to be surrounded by the painful echoes of lives lost in a multitude of traumatic ways.

  That being said; some things are worth facing discomfort for, and her long-term safety will always be at the top of that list to him.  He takes a deep breath, schooling his expression into something more neutral before trying another approach.

  “I understand you don’t like hospitals, and I respect that you have your reasons,” he assents, “so what about a clinic?  Something small practice, with no ghost-locked patients?”  He uncrosses his arms and raises his palms in a placating manner, silently imploring her to be reasonable.

  She fixes him with a suspicious glare and he worries he’s accidentally stumbled upon a landmine, but it isn’t long before she visibly deflates, dropping her arms and staring intently at her now fidgeting hands instead of meeting his gaze.  While it wouldn’t remove the discomfort of the dull lights and surgical cleanliness, nor the chill she still gets from being around doctors in general, not having to be around ghost-locked residents would help a considerable amount…

  “Fine,” she eventually mumbles, more misery and reluctance packed into one syllable than he’d ever heard before.  She wants nothing more than to hide and wait for the problem to go away, but when he looks at her with those eyes – soft, pleading, filled with distress – she can’t say no to a half-decent compromise.  No matter how desperately she wants to. “but only on one condition.”

  “Anything,” he replies instantly.  He’s too relieved to be embarrassed by his immediate willingness to do whatever she’d ask of him, or by the breathless quality of his voice.

  She picks at the skin around her fingernails as she gets lost in a maze of tumultuous thoughts.  Showing any sign of weakness isn’t exactly easy for her.  Vulnerability is terrifying, and the concept of actually relying on someone else is as intimidating as it is foreign.

  Familiar with this pattern by now, Lockwood takes the time to gently rotate his neck and release some of the tension he’d built up.  He gives her the space she needs to muster the courage necessary to coax her thoughts into words.

  When she does speak again, it’s so quiet he almost can’t hear her.

  “Come with me,” she begs, her voice hardly more than a whisper.  It’s such a contrast to the bravado and indignant fury from earlier that it almost steals his breath away.

  He has to fight every fibre of his being as it screams to cross the table and hold her, to protect her from anything and everything that has ever made her feel the need to make herself small.  Suddenly he’s filled with hatred towards faceless memories he’s never even heard as more than fearful cries echoing through the house on the nights she wakes from night terrors she never speaks of come the light of day.

  It takes a moment for him to remember how to use his voice again.

  Anywhere, he wants to say.  “Of course,” he says instead; as though it were a fact, some kind of indisputable truth.  As though there was never any other way he could answer.  If he were to be completely honest with himself, there wasn’t.  He would do anything to have a front row seat to every glimpse of vulnerability showing through the cracks of her perfectly constructed mask. 

  

He’s distracted from his lovesick internal monologue by the sound of an urgent knocking on their front door.  

  The noise startles her. She jumps, lifting her head to meet his eyes.  She raises a challenging eyebrow at him.  It’s a look he knows is accusing him of arranging a meeting with a client today and forgetting about it.  He shrugs, replying with a series of nods and puzzled looks that he hopes conveys his understanding of her reasons for doubting him, but he genuinely doesn’t know who it could be.  He pushes himself out of his seat to go greet their guest.  

  The sound of her quiet footsteps on the linoleum tells him she’s not far behind, likely planning to eavesdrop from out of sight in case it happens to be trouble knocking.  Considering their track record, that’s probably a good call.

  His hand grasps the door handle– but something stops him from opening it immediately.  A strange shiver down his spine urges him to look through the peephole.  The first thing he sees is the top of a balding head, the portly man attached to it coming into view a few seconds later as he steps back to wait and wring his hands.  The man looks harmless enough.  Lockwood shakes off his unease, slides the locks back, and swings the door open theatrically.

  “Good afternoon, sir.  Anthony Lockwood of Lockwood and Co., at your service.  Do you have an appointment today?” he asks, extending his hand and donning his megawatt smile despite knowing damn well the startled little man did not.  

  The man in question stares with too-big eyes from behind too-small spectacles, and for a moment Lockwood can almost see a terrified mouse standing frozen on his welcome mat instead.    The man gasps and lurches forward, quickly stuffing a clammy and trembling hand into the one offered to him.

  “Oh, yes!  Yes, very good.  My name is Oscar Hughes, pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the mouse/man proclaims, shaking the offered hand vigorously, “I don’t have an appointment, but I do have some information that I think will pique your interest.”  

  The name lights a spark of recognition at the back of his mind, but Lockwood can’t quite put his finger on why, leaving him standing in awkward silence for a split second longer than he’s comfortable with.

  “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but are you the same Oscar Hughes who owns the Lighthouse Theatre?” asks the woman behind him, and Anthony has the urge to either give her a raise or sweep her off her feet.  He makes a mental note to check their wages budget.  Oscar dips his head in confirmation, glancing down the street behind him with what seems to be concern.  

  “It appears I’ve been quite rude.  Terribly sorry, Mr. Hughes, why don’t you come in so we can talk in private?” Lockwood accepts the man’s cue and steps aside to allow him entry, returning to the picture of professionalism with zero hesitation.  He can almost feel the girl behind him fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him.  It’s only once he realises that the shorter man hasn’t moved that he sees the cane in his right hand, bowing under the strain of supporting the majority of his weight.  Internally scolding himself for becoming so distracted, Anthony offers Oscar his arm to cross the raised threshold.  

  As her boss helps the fidgety man into their foyer, she offers him a reassuring smile and extends her hand to take his jacket.  He bows his head repeatedly in thanks, firing off a few rapid sentiments of gratitude before allowing himself to be led into the sitting room to discuss the case.

  Lockwood takes a seat in the armchair, gesturing to the loveseat to convey his want for their potential client to sit across from him.  Oscar hesitates for a split second before shuffling over and dropping onto the well worn cushions.

  “Now, that’s much more comfortable.  All that’s missing now is some tea and biscuits; would you mind, love?” his voice is soft, the pet name slipping past his lips before he has a chance to think about it.  There’s a pause, the slight twitch of his brow the only significant outward sign of his immediate panic.  Thankfully, she takes it in stride and exits the room with a quiet affirmation and an air of purpose.

  He doesn’t see the blood rushing to her cheeks, or notice her relief at being given an excuse to exit stage right to compose herself.  He does find the lack of ribbing slightly unusual, but he figures she’s probably trying not to embarrass him in front of their client.  That theory is swiftly dismissed when he remembers she would definitely jump at the opportunity to do precisely that.

  He’ll have time to worry more about the implications of that when there isn’t a potentially high-profile client sitting less than five feet away from him, he reminds himself.  

  Clearing his throat, Lockwood leans back into his seat, crossing his legs and fixing the cuffs of his sleeves in one smooth motion.  

  “Excellent!  While we wait, Mr. Hughes, I believe you’d mentioned having some information that might interest me?”

  “Right, to the point, then.  You may have heard of the tragic case of Alexandra Wright?” he stares at the younger man expectantly, waiting for confirmation as if the whole of Marylebone hadn’t been following the case for years.

  Alexandra Wright had been a young local stage actress at the start of a very promising career when she’d suddenly disappeared without a trace.  She’d been playing Titania in a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in Mr. Hughes' own theatre on the last evening anyone had seen or heard from her.  She’d declined her Oberon, Matthew Moffat’s invitation to have a celebratory drink with the cast on the eve of their final performance, opting instead to go home for a quiet evening with her feline companion and a bottle of wine.  

  Unfortunately she’d never made it back to her flat.  Death wasn’t exactly uncommon even in those days, but it was the mystery of it all that made it so hard for the town to move on.

  Occasionally there would be whispers of spottings; the grocer down the way who closed late one night would swear he’d seen her hurrying along from ghost lamp to ghost lamp, or Mrs. Peterson who swore her granddaughter had told her of seeing a ghost perfectly matching Alexandra’s description.

  Despite the small town rumblings and rumours, no legitimate reports of a Visitor matching her description had been seen since her unusual disappearance.

  Until now, if one were to believe the claims of Mr. Hughes.

  Apparently, the ghost of Ms. Wright had been Visiting an alley adjacent to the theatre, leaving those unlucky enough to have to pass through even before curfew with a persistent sense of dread.  Those with Talent who lived in the flats above the alley reported seeing her wailing as she tried to drag herself away from the invisible echo of the assailants responsible for her untimely demise.

  His associate had returned part way through Oscar’s account, and when she steps away after handing their guest his cup she looks downright nauseas.

  Lockwood can’t resist the urge to reach out and run the back of his fingers comfortingly up and down the back of her arm.  She turns her head to give him a grateful little smile, and surprises him by moving to perch on the armrest of his chair instead of taking one of the other empty seats in the room.  He’s never been more unsure about what to do with his hands.

  “As you can imagine, these rumours haven’t exactly encouraged paying customers to come knocking,”  Hughes laughs dryly, his eyes portraying an edge neither of them had thought him particularly capable of.

  “My team and I will investigate tomorrow evening, and I assure you we will do so with the utmost discretion,”  Lockwood flashes him his signature grin, easily gathering the underlying meaning behind the man’s words as he leans back 

  “Oh, well, you see…  Time is of the essence, if I dare be so bold.  I was hoping you’d be willing to take a look this evening.”

  Lockwood considers him for a moment.  On one hand, he’s certain Lucy would tan his hide if she caught wind of him taking on a case of this magnitude without her.  On the other, there are so many similarities between the cases of Alexandra Wright and Annabel Ward that even after all these years he finds himself eager to solve it without sticking her in the middle of it all.

  And George…  Well, with his Talent now gone, George preferred to avoid being in the field whenever possible.  The likelihood of a scolding from him was much lower than it would have been when they were young.  Hell, Flo would probably even thank him for keeping the man out of it–

  A hand resting featherlight on his shoulder pulls him from his thoughts.

  When he turns to look at her, her eyes are already on him, and they’re glittering with excitement.  She knows as well as he does what solving this mystery could do for Lockwood & Co., and for him.  He’d told her about Fairfax and Ward when they had started becoming closer to friends than colleagues.  About the crushing frustration and disappointment that had hounded him for years after, urging him to make impulsive and reckless decisions to try and regain what he felt had been stolen from him.

  Frustration at a system supposedly put in place to protect Agents being manipulated to treat them as tools and nothing more, disappointment at having the crown jewel accomplishment of the legacy he’d been trying so hard to build torn from his hands mere moments after earning it. ‘Do it,’ her eyes seem to urge, ‘say yes.’  His heart soars.

  Emboldened by her touch and eager to right a wrong once done upon him, ignoring a strange sense of dread as that familiar feeling of invincibility settles over him, he fixes his eyes on their client once more.

  “All right, Mr. Hughes.  We begin at sunset.”

𝔑𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 ⇢

taglist (if your name is in bold, it wouldn't let me tag you!):

❁ @shakespearseclipse ❁ @tessas4 ❁ @chloejaniceeee ❁ @ettadear ❁

❁ @kassandra1000 ❁ @stardust611 ❁ @ell0ra-br3kk3r ❁

❁ @hellojameshowyadoin ❁ @Sarahhelpimsinking ❁ @soapshipper ❁

❁ @myownpainintheass ❁ @furblrwurblr ❁ @sleep-i-ness ❁

❁ @uku-lelevillain ❁

[lucyandthepen]

last eden - i . | lmh

part i, ii, iii

only one thing has ever mattered to you, in this lifetime, and in all others : mark lee — even if he doesn't know yet, and even if he may never remember.

pairing: mark x reader verse: canon/idol!verse, soulmates trope rating: T warnings: none, possibly some mild language, like... one very tame mention of making love ig word count: 4.3k

A/N: yeah i have a lot of these fics that i'm repurposing that i desperately want to post so i can continue them so please look the other way at my random over enthusiasm i beg !! my only long-standing mark fic is actually gorgeous, and while we do love a good raunchy piece, i love mark way too much to keep it to just that. this was my first ever fic on my old blog, and i'm quite attached to the idea despite the fact that it's actually very difficult for me to write. i changed the name because i actually love this song by maktub (anything he puts out is gold to me), which i think generally fits the vibe of the story, so give it a listen if you're interested! so i hope you all enjoy this idol!verse soulmates fic! (help a gal out by reblogging, liking, and leaving a few kind words if you're so inclined!)

“This isn’t really your best idea.” 

You know this. You’re fully aware of the possible and endless risks as well as the minimal benefits. But you have to go. The thing that Heehyeon, your roommate, doesn’t fully understand is that this could be your one and only shot, and it could mean life or death. And you know that sounds pretty dramatic, but it really is. you don’t really have all the details (when, where, how, the important stuff) but that doesn’t matter to you right now. 

What really matters is that today is NCT’s comeback stage at M! Countdown, and you have to be there. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t one of those things you have to go to because your a die-hard fan and you just have to support the group and do all those fan chants and lie to your mom about going to the library when you’re really staying over outside a company building for hours just to wave those silly, expensive light sticks that look like they came out of the factory a bit funny. Sure, NCT’s music was nice (enough), but that isn’t really the reason why you told your mom not to come over this weekend because you would be out on a company team building retreat (as if they actually do that). More than anything, you knew you had to take this chance to see him. 

When you don’t respond, Heehyeon presses on with a firmer tone, as if she’s determined to convince you even though you both know nothing is really going to stop you at this point.

“Listen to me, _____________. You are going to a tightly-packed music show with at least a hundred other fans, and you are going to stand in the middle of that dense crowd and — and what? Stare up at him. That’s it. He’s not going to see you; that stage is so high up he’ll probably only catch a look at your forehead, and that’s if you make it up front. And since we both know you’re neither the tallest nor the luckiest person in the world, you know the odds are against you. You’re probably going to get pushed to the back, or stampeded, and it’s going to be messy, and you’re going to push, and they’re going to push you back, and your make-up is going to fall apart, or whatever. Is this really worth it?”

“I told you,” you try to sound patient, but the idea of being buffeted away from the stage by a large wave of sweaty bodies causes more discomfort than you had originally anticipated thanks to her colorful and supremely unhelpful description. “If being near the stage doesn’t work out, I’ll wait out back, near the exit, and —“

“Oh yeah, and ambush him. Because you’ll be the only one there, and because that’s totally safe.” She drops the slightly (well, pretty) judgmental tone when she sees your bottom lip quiver. “I’m not… I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to reach out to him. But this doesn’t sound like the best way, _____________. Security is so tight there, and NCT’s security is even more wary. Even if you do manage to get close, what in the world are you going to say?” 

“I— I’ll figure it out once I’m there.” You purse your lips; surely I love you; we’re meant to be together wouldn’t be that hard on your end, but the more important question is: did it sound sane? You didn’t express this doubt, though. Doing so would give your roommate more ammunition to turn back at you; you’d play it by ear when you actually got around to making eye contact with him (if that ever happened at all). And — well, maybe you wouldn’t have to say anything. Maybe, just maybe, this time, he’d remember you.

At that thought, you feel an initial wave of laughter, closely followed by a second, much more painful wave of nausea. Of all the absurd things you could think of, that was probably the most ridiculous. 

“This isn’t a good idea,” she recapitulates, shaking her head. “You know what they do to people who stalk idols and say they’re really going to get married to them, or whatever. You know what they’d call you.”

“But I’m not crazy like that,” you argue.

“I know that, but they don’t know anything about you! You’d be labeled a sasaeng. They’ll probably think you’re one of those girls that sneak into their dorms and sniff their underwear before selling them on the dark side of Taobao through a weird Chinese proxy or something.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You ball your fists at your side, feeling a little betrayed. Heehyeon, of all people, should be able to understand why you had to do this, even if it was ludicrous. She had remembered you, reached out to you before you could even place her. She’d heard your story, understood that you had been waiting years for this moment, even stopped you on other occasions when you were about to do the same thing you were planning now, saying it wasn’t the right time. “I don’t have any other way of contacting him. I don’t even know if this is going to work, but you know I have to try, and I feel like this is the right time. I have to see him. I have to — I have to be with him. I don’t need your blessing to go, you know.”

There’s a palpable tension hanging over you now, and Heehyeon’s expression has gone mostly unreadable, save for that twinge of worry still present in her gaze. The soft sound of regular, heavy exhales punctuate every few seconds that pass, and you realize a little later that it’s your breathing, which has turned a bit heavy from the energy spent sort-of yelling at your roommate. 

“I know that,” she finally sighs. “I know that, _____________. I just wish you used a different way. Like, a safer, less crazy one.”

“I would use one if there were one.” You frown. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, like attack him. I would never do that.”

She doesn’t say much anymore, opting to watch you instead as you stuff a few more essential things in your bag. A hat. A fan. a bottle of water. Heehyeon had tried to coerce you to buy one of those cheering kits with those slogans, but you didn’t want to waste your money on it, and, truthfully, you didn’t want his name hanging on your walls like some sick reminder in case he rejected you.

“What did you tell your manager?” She asks in a clear attempt to lighten the mood. 

“I told her I was sick. You know she never really asks as long as I find someone to substitute for me,” you sling your bag over your shoulder, standing straighter. “How do I look?” 

“Pretty damn healthy,” she notes. “But also kind of crazy.” 

“I’ll see you tonight, Heehyeon,” you roll your eyes as you make your way out of the room. Before you close the door, she makes one last quick remark.

“Not if I see you on the evening news first!”

You have to take two buses to get to Sangamsan-ro. Even though the traffic is generally mild, the buses make too many stops and wait too long for old ladies with their fruit baskets and newspapers to get on. The wait is making you anxious, and you think about getting an orange to abate your growing hunger, but you’re also so nervous that you’re sure you’re going to spew it all out onto the bus floor anyway. So, you content yourself with listening to music and fiddling with your fingers in your lap. 

All you have in your phone is NCT’s music. The files were so large that you’d had to delete everything else you used to listen to and a handful of pictures too (mostly selfies that would have never seen the light of day, anyway) just to get them to fit. You used to only listen to the Korean versions, but you’d found all these little nuances in how Mark raps his lines depending on the language, so you’d started listening to the English and Japanese releases too, even though you can’t understand a lick of anything but ‘baby.’ Most of the time, you skip over to the relevant (see: Mark-filled) parts, already having memorized their timestamps to a kind of sick degree. 

It was kind of dumb, and sort of selfish, but you had never really identified yourself as an NCT fan anyway. If you had been an active part of the groups following, people would have probably called you an akgae. You were really only concerned with one member, and it was that member’s voice that filled your ears when you’d plugged your earbuds in and put the volume up.

The first time you’d seen him was in your last year of college. One of your college friends had asked you to accompany them to a Nature Republic outlet downtown. Despite your general lack of interest in make-up at that point in time, you’d gone because she’d promised to buy you a corndog. What you’d gotten instead was a large standee of a handsome guy smiling at you and holding out a pot of aloe vera gel. 

You knew his eyes. Even though his features changed a million times in your memory, you could never mistake his eyes for anyone else’s — soft, warm, brown eyes that you’d stared into for truly an eternity. His were eyes you could never forget, were never allowed to forget. You could remember the millions of times they’d smiled up at you in those past lives you were haunted with, twinkled with mischief and laughter in your presence, borne deep into yours on hot summer nights as you made love. Of all the uncertain things in all of the lives you remembered living, these eyes acted as your anchor. 

You’d almost forgotten you were there with a friend until she’d called out to you, telling you to step inside the shop. Trying to sound disinterested despite the fact that your heart was pounding, you asked who the guy in the standee was. Mark, she’d called him. Mark of NCT. He was an idol, a rapper in one of those up and coming groups that was starting to gain a lot of attention within the general public because of their ‘cool, chic concepts.’ At that information, your heart had fallen into a pool of acid in your stomach. 

Other times were hard, but not this hard. Most of the factors that had kept you or torn you apart were much larger in scale — war, famine, other natural disasters. This, out of all the other times, seemed to be the most difficult; he wasn’t an ordinary man anymore, but a god among men — a god you couldn’t be allowed to approach. You had ditched your friend the moment she’d gotten her change back at the counter, citing a sudden time of the month as the root cause, and dashed out and back to school, sparing only one last glance at the standee. 

You’d been waiting for him for years, carefully looking for any sign of him in the people around you, but you had grown tired and had come to believe that maybe, in this life, you had been set free — that he didn’t exist, and the curse would be over. However, as you pored over each and every teaser, music video, advertisement, and blurry, noise-heavy radio interview you could find even a sliver of his face in, you realized that the curse had come back, and in a much larger force than you could ever imagine. 

You’d stared at your desk for the longest time that day; the sun had dipped out of sight already when you’d sighed yourself out of your trance. It had never been this difficult. Having the Memory was mostly the worst thing ever, but its usual perk was that you could pick him out a little easier, and he was never too far away — nobody you ever knew in your first life ever was. They just kept coming up again and again, running around in little circles throughout time and space, and you recognized them in a way you’ve come to grow familiar with. It’s a tug, sort of like a tickle in your stomach, and you knew then that he was close by. The signal only stopped when you found him, and it usually wasn’t that hard. From there, you were responsible for weaving the same kind of story — one in which you would fall in love, be happy for a period of time, and then… well. 

Heehyeon has the Memory, too. She’d remembered you from a previous life, too, and picked you out of a packed line at a coffee shop, striking up one of the most awkward conversations you’d ever had the displeasure of being a part of because she hadn’t been sure if you remembered her. It was only when she mentioned that you seemed like someone she could be good friends with and that you also seemed like you just happened to like your coffee black with two sugars did you realize that her sudden onslaught of friendliness was a sign she might be like you: unable to forget. She’d actually once asked you if you’d tried just letting him go, and you’d responded with a resolute no. At this point, it was too hard to call him a lost cause, even if he really seemed it. How could you stop loving someone you know you’ve loved for millennia? 

He’s extremely handsome in this life, you’ve noted. Girls were falling all over him, which only made things ten times harder. A couple of years back, some rumors of him dating a labelmate had come up. Heehyeon had talked you through that long night of you clutching tissues in a fist and sobbing about how you didn’t want this anymore, how it was never fair, how every single time you had to find him was just growing more and more difficult until it seemed to reach an impossible arc. But, mostly, you’d cried because you hated the possibility — probably the confirmation — that he didn’t remember you at all. 

You didn’t really expect him to, but you always hoped. Every life, you would approach him, and he would be a clean slate. It was a tiring process, one you wished you weren’t constantly responsible for. Some days, you resented him; how could he live his life carefree, without even the notion that you two were meant to be together? Most days, though, you just longed for him. Him, and a happy ending. 

You let out a sigh as the track changes. His voice greets you again; over time, you’ve noticed it sounding even cooler, more impactful. He’s doing well for himself. And here you are, attempting to make yourself stand out in a pool of fans he probably can’t even see clearly. Nice.

You get to listen to about half of the newly released album before you realize you’re nearing your stop. Sidestepping a couple of baskets of oranges, you make it to the door and dash out. Heehyeon had drawn you a crude map to CJ E&M, and you’d been skeptical of it at first, but you realize now you would have gotten lost and missed the stage long before you got there if you had gone in blind. You’d make sure to thank her when you got back. If you did actually come back in one piece. 

Heehyeon also hadn’t been joking; the line outside looks like it would fill a whole section of Jamsil. You’d heard of the dedication of some of these fans, but you’d never seen it like this, nor had you ever actually been a part of it. Kids were really up at three in the morning in support of NCT. Many of them are probably here specifically in support of Mark, you think. Sure enough, the people you line up behind are holding holographic slogans with the print “Mark-yah!” You swallow hard, trying not to regret your decision not to partake in that. 

It feels like hours before you get even close to the door of the building. The chatter has died down a little, but not by much; even with less people ahead of you, the noise pollution increases in tandem with the excitement in the atmosphere. You’re not excited, though. You’re sick to your stomach, wishing you hadn’t come alone and wondering if you were going to regret this. Probably. Luckily, a couple of teenagers behind you strike up a casual conversation starting with “ah, it’s getting more humid now,” and you take turns complaining about what the weather would probably be like later on in the day before you start talking about NCT. They’re both Jaehyun fans, and you think about whether or not you remember meeting him in a past life. Nothing really rings a bell.

When you tell them you’re here for Mark, they giggle. 

“We know,” they chime. “You’re wearing blue.” 

“It’s his favorite color,” you say, a little defensively. 

“Everyone knows that. Everyone here wearing that ocean blue is a Mark fan. Didn’t he say so once?” They dissolve into laughter again, but you say nothing. Maybe he had said that recently. Then again, his favorite color has always been blue — the color of the sky and the sea he seems to love so much. 

The line grows shorter and shorter, and your ankles feel like they’re starting to swell. You’ve been standing for a good two hours now, and you regret not having bought one of those NCT membership cards that get you up to the front of the line. It’s really no surprise that you, the two Jaehyun fans, and the others in the line behind you are all squished in the back, just like Heehyeon had said you would be. It takes a good twenty minutes before the lights dim down and the stage lights start up, and you hear the buzz that increases in volume right before it becomes a collective deafening shriek from the crowd. The light sticks go up, and you’re momentarily blinded by the large stars that blink NCT in some weird logo form before you get your bearings again. By that time, the members have begun trooping onto the stage in a single file, and you forget your swollen ankles as you tiptoe and crane your head for a better view. 

He’s there, your mind screams. He’s right there. You’ve got a whole crowd in front of you, but he’s right there. 

The Jaehyun fans are losing their mind too; he’s talking, asking them how they found the album and encouraging them to keep supporting it. Typical idol stuff, you assume, but the fans go wild in an attempt to reassure him that they will. They all speak in a line, and you note Mark will be last. When the mic is handed over to him, the fans start screaming again. You feel like you want to yell as well, except you’re not sure if you’ll say something actually coherent that other people will hear. Instead, you tiptoe a little higher, fixing your pretty bad eyesight on his face and perking your ears up. 

“You’re all here so early,” he starts. “How long have you been waiting for us?” 

A flurry of numbers fly across the room. He smiles in this genuinely affectionate way even though his eyes can’t focus on a single person in the dark, and your heart stutters at the sight.

“Do your mothers know you’re here?” He’s teasing now. “You can’t tell them that NCT is the reason you’re not sleeping well, you know. Everyone, make sure that you eat breakfast and rest well before school today, okay?” 

While the crowd screams in response, you let out a little whimper. It’s a weak, pathetic sound, but it essentially sums up how you feel, seeing him like this from so far away. 

The pre-recording starts, but you barely catch anything. You’re too small for this kind of life, and you get so tired of tiptoeing that you actually do try to push your way through the crowd. Of course, this is fruitless, and you end up squatting by the back wall of the room, sipping on your water conservatively and listening to the Jaehyun fans do the chant religiously. 

NCT performs the song two more times before they’re saying their goodbyes. You muster up the energy to stand again and make a beeline for the exit before everyone else can smash their way through. The sun is almost up now; beads of sweat form on the nape of your neck as you round the building, trying to find the indicated spot that Heehyeon had marked as the back exit of CJ E&M. You worry about how you’re in the wrong place for about ten minutes until you see the two Jaehyun fans turning the corner quickly, obviously with the same goal as you: to catch NCT as they leave the building. 

In no time, the fans have gathered at the spot again, and it seems like they’ve multiplied tenfold; the chants are louder and there are girls with gigantic cameras trying to shove you away from the spot. Security from the company camps out in front of you, their gazes shifting from the door to the crowd and back again. 

People around you roar the moment the doorknob turns. Nine of them file out, now in regular clothing, surrounded by their own security. You feel a surge of force behind you, trying to push forward, and someone’s camera lens hits you hard in the side of the face. You barely have time to cry out in surprise, caught in what would have been a scream of pain, when you see him. 

In the growing light, Mark looks like a king. No — like a god, actually. Everything on his face shines even when minimal sunlight strikes it; his teeth help, too, brightening his face as his mouth hangs open in an easy laugh. He’s talking to Doyoung and has to face him, his sharp jawline being the first thing anyone can see from that perspective, and it’s that angle that creates all these alarms in your head. 

For some reason, you’ve blocked out the noise around you. Even the pain from the camera lens attack isn’t bothering you as much anymore; you feel like you’re in an aquarium, and all the screams are on the other side of the glass. Your vision tunnels; all you can see is him. 

You’d promised Heehyeon you wouldn’t do anything stupid. Again and again, she’d asked you and drilled you and reminded you that you weren’t supposed to do anything that would get you into trouble. Even with those promises you’d made, she’d still doubted you. Later, when you’d tell her this story, she’d roll her eyes and yell I told you so!, because, well, she did tell you. And, when you’d look at it in retrospect, you’d see that you should have listened. 

Right now, though, you’re walking. Somehow, the camera lens that had attacked you had turned its gaze onto much more important targets; the guard stationed in front of you grunted in pain and reflexively retracted his hand after the lens made contact with it. It wasn’t a long movement, but it was enough for you to be pushed forward by the crowd. Enough to get your feet moving. 

Other fans had stopped trying to break through; though many were still hysterical, most were trying to take pictures of the members as they climbed into the van. One by one, they were disappearing before your eyes. No, you thought to yourself. Your chest tightened. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think that the noise behind you has gotten much louder. Not now. He hasn’t seen me yet. Not yet, please. 

You don’t realize that your feet have picked up the pace, and you’ve broken into a short sprint before the building security could catch you. It’s too late; he can’t leave his post, and he only has to hope that NCT’s staff are well-equipped to fend off a running girl. They are, but they’re too busy helping the members that they’re caught unaware — just long enough for you to be within an arm’s reach of them. 

Mark is almost in the van; he’s caught off-guard, too, and he doesn’t realize that something’s not right until you’re already there. Security grabs his arm and tries to tug him out of your reach and into the van at the same time that a strong hand grapples at the back of your shirt. Doyoung, who had been by Mark’s side, tries to use his arms to shield you from his friend when he realizes who you are targeting, yelling out something you can’t really understand. 

It’s a ten-second long struggle of limbs in which you hear your own “Let go of me!” harmonize perfectly with Mark’s frantic “What the —?” Somehow, though, you’re able to fight through Doyoung’s arms and grip Mark’s wrist with a sweaty palm. The contact causes him to turn back reflexively, eyes wide in shock. 

His eyes. God, please, won’t he recognize me? Your fingers close around his wrist a little more tightly. Your mouth is dry, and your throat is on fire. You’re wasting precious time. You only manage out a weak, “Please, Mark, it’s me,” before he’s twisting his wrist away. The arm that gripped your shirt moves to lock around your waist, and you’re hauled, empty-handed, away from the van. Awareness you’d lost slowly trickles back into you. The crowd isn’t screaming at the members now; they’re screaming at you. They’re angry. As you’re dragged away, you vaguely note that the Jaehyun fans you were with are fuming behind the security guards still keeping them in place. 

The security guard that carried you off like a rag doll plants you in front of him, and he lets go of your waist but still keeps his grip tight around both your forearms, which have been twisted behind you. You have no choice but to watch from afar as the members drag Mark into the van, looks of concern etched across their faces. They ask him if he’s hurt, and he shakes his head. Right before the door closes, he quickly glances back at you. Your heart sinks for the second time today as you see something in his eyes you’d never seen before. 

Fear. Mark is afraid of you.

[cinnbar-bun]

Dio w/ an S/O who Celebrates Ramadan

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~750

Notes: Muslim!GN!Reader. So yeah, obvy talking about religious beliefs and practices- if those make you uncomfortable please feel free to skip <3

A gift for my friend @over--heaven enjoy my darling!!!

We all know Dio, our proud and very devoted brother, mashallah. 

Okay, okay, being serious. Dio definitely did read up about different cultures and religions during his time in Cairo. Catching up has never been so informational, and Dio views these reading sessions as a way to formulate a plan. 

Yes he has canonically read the Quran (in the OVA) no I’m not arguing with this leave me alone!!!

Especially since he was in Cairo, he was exposed to Muslim culture not only through his reading, but quite literally outside his doorstep. He didn’t make many appearances outside (duh, vampire) but on the occasions he did, he was taken by the customs and celebrations by some of his neighbors. 

Well, the people here certainly know how to have a nice time compared to England. 

I would say he’s participated in many events or Muslim customs, maybe not out of sheer devotion or anything, but mostly due to entertainment and intrigue. He tends to people watch and view how some of the Muslims pray or how they behave with one another. 

He is aware of what Ramadan is, and since he reads the Quran, I can imagine he’s got a pretty good grasp of Islam as well as the Arabic language in general. 

It is quite ironic that Dio of all people had a partner who was Muslim, but he honestly doesn’t mind. All humans are the same to him, so he doesn’t hold one higher than another.

So, when you begin to prepare for Ramadan, he’s understanding (somewhat, he’s still Dio and he still will be a menace as usual). He’s pretty curious how devoted and disciplined you’ll be. 

Makes an off-hand comment how he’d be willing to participate with you, just to experience it alongside you.

Might even pray beside you if he’s feeling up to it (although he gets tempted to do it more when he sees you doing it). 

His sleep and eating schedule is pretty messed up as a vampire, I assume, so I like to think he’d be doing the opposite and eating breakfast during iftar and dinner during suhoor. It’s a funny thought and whether or not you decide to follow his flipped schedule is up to you. He’s just gonna be Dio throughout. 

He’d occasionally get philosophical with you about your faith and feelings. He likes to hear your interpretations of your faith and compare it to his own/what he’s read. He’s not sure if Islam itself will help him achieve heaven, but the discussions he has with you are rather thoughtful. It’s very rare for him to take what others say to heart, but for some reason, he can’t help but be enthralled by your words (we all know the reason is because he loves you). 

He does like you feeding him dates and fruits when it is time to break your fast. Heck, he might even feed you back if he’s feeling up to it. 

Although that’s kind of what Dio does during the month. He likes to bother you or annoy you for attention, but often will return the favor by making it so you can rest easily and not bother with things like cooking or cleaning. The minions can handle those tasks, but you are needed beside him in the bed for cuddles (I mean, serving him faithfully, my bad). 

Part of his studying of the human condition just leads him to be appreciative of you and your place beside him. Dio tends to make a show of it that you should be grateful he’s spoiling you like this, but truthfully he’s got a soft spot for you that is reserved for only you. No one else gets the level of care Dio gives you. 

He’ll hold off on ‘tempting’ you much during this month. He originally was going to tease you to see if you could be tempted, but after he saw you were steadfast, he softened up and quit trying to mess with you so much. He still will, but prepare for him to be a lot gentler with you. 

Soft kisses on your forehead, him gently rubbing your hands in circles with his fingers, and lots of cuddling. Again, stuff he only does with you. 

All in all, Dio is considerably more giving, quiet, and reflective during the month of Ramadan with you. It’s a new level within your relationship that he wanted to humor you with but ultimately finds rewarding in many ways.

[laundrybiscuits]

Hah, thanks @beansthekid for giving me a chance to ramble a bit more!

I think there are many different and equally valid ways to interpret Eddie’s relationship with the Corroded Coffin crew; we really do not get very much canon material at all, which means it’s all very open to interpretation. However, I personally tend to read them as friendly acquaintances more than friends, because Eddie doesn't seem to treat them with any true closeness.

In the few scenes they share, Eddie sort of treats them like undifferentiated sidekicks/minions/audience. He seems basically fond of them, and I don't think his attitude comes from any sort of disrespect or dislike. Rather, I think it’s more about Eddie’s own comfort level: in general, I read Eddie as very skittish about relationships. He likes to keep people at a certain remove, and he likes to be in control of that distance.

We don't see him confiding in anyone or being intentionally vulnerable...right up until Steve and "guess I got a little jealous." Even with Chrissy, though he was definitely trying to present himself as friendly and harmless, he was absolutely putting on a little performance the entire time. He was taking on an entertainer role. He's willing to be seen as ridiculous, because that's the class-clown side of him, but it's not the same thing as letting down his guard. People laughing at him for his antics can't hurt him, at this point. Admitting he's fond enough of Dustin to make that a weakness, and being honest about feeling inadequate—that is vulnerability.

I do think it's plausible that that little jealousy confession was prompted in part by guilt over the whole broken-bottle thing. To be clear, I don't think Eddie's boatshed reaction was wildly out of line; at that point, he had zero information/context that would lead him to conclude that anyone out looking for him was on his side, much less Steve Harrington.

He was also scared out of his mind and literally shaking with adrenaline and fear, but he still didn’t actually hurt anyone. He could have shanked Steve and made a run for it, but I read him as someone who fundamentally does not want to hurt or scare people for real. He wants to make them uncomfortable, sure—or at the very least he doesn’t really care if they’re made uncomfortable by how he looks and acts. But actually being the villain of a story? That doesn’t fit with his values or his self-image.

So it would make sense if afterwards, he felt an outsized and misplaced sense of guilt about that little encounter, and let that spur him to offer up a little bit of honesty. It’s an intimacy he doesn’t extend to anyone else in the entire show.

I mean—hell, I am fully fixated on this little exchange:

Nancy: Hey, it’s Nancy.

Eddie: Wheeler, hey!

It would be way, way more natural to mirror her intro and call her Nancy, but instead he does this weird surname thing (and continues to call her by her surname) despite the fact that he already knows another Wheeler who is presumably also potentially tuned in. Why on earth would he do this. There are so many siblings in the group. The only way I can make sense of it is as a distancing mechanism that he leans on.

By the end, he does start addressing some people by their first names, some of the time. I haven’t done a full accounting, but I’m pretty sure it’s mostly just Dustin and Steve (not counting the “this is for you, Chrissy” moment).

But back to the Corroded Coffin lads: the biggest tell, for me, is that they had band practice without him. They knew he was missing, and either they knew he’d be a suspect/in trouble or they didn’t know him well enough to recognize his trailer on the news. They’re just kids, so it’s fairly reasonable that they wouldn’t be trying to take any action to find/help Eddie, but it seems unbearably callous that they’d just be having a normal band practice. I still don’t really know how to fold that into my understanding of their dynamics, but one possible interpretation is that they aren’t used to thinking of him as someone who ever really gets hurt, so they figure it’ll all just blow over somehow.

Eddie’s obviously taken on a leadership position in their little group. He’s the DM, he runs the show. But we don’t have a sense that he’s got a second-in-command or a trusted advisor that he confides in, much less someone he sees as a true peer in a give-and-take way.

Again, I don’t think any of this means he doesn’t like the Corroded Coffin boys. On the contrary, I think he probably cares about them very much in the same way he loves Dustin. My read on Eddie is that he sees himself as a protector who is in some way responsible for them and their well-being, cultivating an interdependent community that he doesn’t really get to partake in. His sense of self-worth lies in his ability to be a shield, standing between his lost little sheep and the wolves of Hawkins. He draws fire and takes the hits, and that’s a very lonely position to be in.

And then…Steve Harrington.

[acacia-may]

Acacia's Definitive Defense of Langris x Finesse

No one asked about this pairing, but I'm going to ramble about them anyway... especially since I realized I don't think I've ever actually written a proper post about them as this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year (A/N: Yikes! Sorry friends. I completely forgot I wrote this until today when I tried to find that post I was absolutely certain I had made about Langris x Finesse only to find it buried in my unposted drafts 😅🙈 But I'm posting it now to coincide with the ship ask game so it kind of works...? Maybe? I have no excuses...).

Anyways, dear goodness do I have thoughts about this ship. I’m not sure I can even wrangle them all, but I am going to try my best.

I’m sure it’s pretty clear from my blog that I have a deep love for my spatial mage boys and want good things for them which is one of the main reasons why I have a lot of concerns about the whole House Vaude soap opera. A friend of mine (irl) and I once discussed that plotline for literally 6 hours so I could go on and on about this for ages, but I have tried my best to be brief. That didn't really happen so I apologize in advance for all of the rambling.

I've tried to keep the focus of this post on Langris and Finesse's relationship, so please check out this post if you want to hear my many thoughts on the House Vaude succession drama as whole and in general. To keep things organized, I've divided this discussion into 2 main subsections for clarity under the cut!

(Warnings: Black Clover spoilers and discussion of some heavier topics such as childhood trauma and abuse. Arranged marriage is also mentioned)

Why I Think Langris and Finesse Genuinely Love Each Other (not necessarily in a romantic way but definitely in a selfless care and concern kind of way)

One of my most basic premises for my personal interpretation of Langris' character really comes down to the fact that I think what Langris actually wants more than anything else is unconditional love and to be accepted for who he is (rather than what he does/his accomplishments). He wants to have people who love him, a family—but he'd never admit this because he is convinced he'll never get it. He is convinced that love needs to be earned and he can't earn it, and his relationship with Lady Finesse is a perfect example of this, I think.

It hurts Langris that she is just the kindest person ever and she doesn't like/love him (or such is the reality in Langris' mind anyway given the fact that he has carried around that one time she complimented Finral as "she hates me" for literal years in the canon. But I digress). Langris doesn't like games he can't see a possibility of winning. He closes himself off from love and building meaningful relationships because he doesn't think he'll "win" people's love in the end. He's very cynical and jaded in this way, but more than that, he's wounded. It comes from a place of being denied love without strings attached, without conditions for his entire life and of being told his by his parents that love has to be earned and being convinced that he can't earn it, that nothing he does will ever be good enough and that he will never deserve the love he so desperately craves. And in that way, it comes from a fear of being hurt and rejected. When you care about someone, you give them the power to hurt you—and Langris doesn't want that kind of vulnerability. So I think he just completely counts himself out of the running when it comes to Finesse and defers to his brother—assuming (probably correctly) that she’d choose Finral if she was given a choice between the two of them.

All of that said, he can't quite stop himself from caring for her with a genuine love and respect (not necessarily in a romantic sense but he does care for her)—it’s just sealed off somewhere and not something he really thinks about or allows himself to feel (let alone label) until his brother "declaring war" on him brings all of that to the surface and he kind of has to reconcile how much he wants to be the Head of House Vaude (what he’s worked for his entire life) with how much he wants Lady Finesse to be happy. I love how in that scene there is actually a moment (at least in the anime) in which "the camera" turns and we're watching the scene unfold from Langris' eyes/perspective immediately before he gets involved and tells Finral to clean up his act.

(A/N: If you listen very carefully you can hear the sound of Langris' entire world falling apart...)

Okay, bad jokes aside, this is a huge moment for Langris. It takes him all of five seconds to decide that Lady Finesse's happiness is far more important to him than House Vaude, than his title, his future, his own dreams and aspirations that he has worked for literally his entire life and, ultimately, is more important than everything he has looked to for his own self-worth and fulfillment up unto that point (which causes him to have a bit of an existential crisis as he tries to figure out who he is without those things, without being the next Head of House Vaude, but I digress again). It is an incredible act of love to set aside what someone wants for themselves in order to make another person happy—to choose what is best for another person even at great personal sacrifice. Regardless of how you want to qualify that love (romantic or platonic), it does not diminish the gravity of Langris' sacrifice and the willingness he shows to choose Finesse's happiness over the things that are (seemingly) the most important to him in the world.

Up until this point, Langris is this incredibly goal-oriented character who is set on becoming the best, the strongest, and eventually the head of House Vaude which comes off as self-interested and a little ruthless in his willingness to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals, but suddenly, here he is, ready to give all of that up so that Lady Finesse can have the chance to be happy. It's almost like he is saying (honestly, far louder and clearer than any words possibly could), "I love you more than all of that."

Why else would he be helping his brother take over as heir to House Vaude when that actually seems to be something Langris wants for himself? (I know the poll I ran examined some different ideas and interpretations but that's always been my personal take on it). It’s almost like in that moment, Langris has realized that he can’t make Lady Finesse happy (even if he wants to), but he thinks that Finral can so he wants to make Finral into the best he can be for her.

Once Langris is reasonably sure that Finral is at a place that he can make Finesse happy and has become a man "worthy of her," I could definitely see him stepping aside so that his brother could take over their House and marry her—purely out of concern for Finesse’s happiness, and there is something incredibly selfless and very beautiful about that.

I think Finesse's side of things is much more practical. The fact of the matter is that Finesse is royalty in a medieval society where she will inevitably be married off for a political alliance and/or to produce children, and she has probably always known that she needs to marry out of duty/responsibility, so I can’t really see her as that much of a hopeless romantic given the circumstances. If she allows herself anything, it is the hope that she will get to spend her life with someone who does care for her and who she can be content with. I don't think throughout most of Finesse's life and certainly not throughout this whole arranged marriage business that anyone has ever really asked her what she wanted or ever really cared about her wishes before, but Langris seems to have a genuine interest in her wishes and her happiness more so than anyone else. And I think she does care for him (again, not necessarily in a romantic way but it is a genuine care and concern of at least friendship).

As I discussed in this post, when Langris has all that elf-business and the King threatens to dissolve the betrothal and punish the Vaudes, it is Finesse who comes to their defense rather than taking what is quite possibly her only chance at an "out." And it is an informed, free choice on her part. I love her line in the English dub that she "knows Lord Langris and has no misgivings about him" and therefore essentially begs her uncle not to "judge him too harshly." I think there is something very strong and very courageous in her decision to believe in the good in Langris even when he is at his worst, and her concern is truly and completely focused on what is best for him. I'm especially thinking of that moment when she begs him to stop before he does something he will regret. She's worried about him: his hurt and his guilt. She really wants what's best for him, and it's this love for him and this belief in him that really brings out the best in Langris.

My absolute favorite thing about this ship (besides how selfless they are towards each other) is really that Finesse has this way of bringing out this softer, gentler side of Langris that, I think, very few people have actually seen. Langris himself is so insistent on hiding this (probably a learned response from growing up in an environment where any hint of emotion and any sensitivity is viewed as a weakness), but really he has such a deep capacity for love and given the opportunity would be fiercely loyal.

Langris may not care about a lot of people, but the ones he chooses to care about he will love forever. He's just such a tsun about it, I think, so it can be very hard for anyone (and especially for those with preconceived notions of him as a snotty stick-in-the-mud) to see that he's really very sweet and awkward as heck about his feelings. Langris' love might be quiet—it's not very flashy and usually shows itself in doing little, everyday things for the people he loves—but still waters run very, very deep and he has shown that he would do just about anything to protect the people he loves most and make them happy, no matter what that means for himself. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that he would die for Finesse if it came down to it.

Ultimately, I can imagine a lot of different outcomes for this relationship (some of which never, ever cross over into that romantic place). I really just want them both to be happy whether that means they end up together or not, but yes, I could see them happy with each other in a romantic sense under very specific circumstances since they do have such a selfless love for each other (but I think that is probably a discussion for another time because this is already super, super long so I'm cutting myself off in favor of the next section...).

Why I personally think Langris rather than Finral is better suited for Finesse

As much I don't like pitting ships against each other, I don't think it's avoidable in this case since she is going to be in arranged marriage with one of them. To paraphrase a favorite musical of mine, it's not a matter of "if" but which one. And I think it's best for me to just start off by saying that while I do genuinely like and appreciate Finesse and Finral as a ship as well, I personally think that Langris and Finesse are better suited for one another in the long term.

I will admit upfront that this is in part because of my own personal experiences of having a chronic illness (and needless to say that is a personal bias that colors my opinions, so please just keep that in mind), but I think it's important to talk about the fact that Finesse is chronically ill because it's not something I've ever really seen discussed when talking about ships for her and I really think it should be taken into account. Like Finesse, I have been sick for most of my life, and I can really relate to the kind of difficulties and limitations that Finesse likely experiences due to being chronically ill and the realities of the less active and much more slower-paced life she would lead and, by proxy, the life anyone who married her would have to lead. Again, I am not saying that I don’t like or couldn’t imagine her & Finral together (I do genuinely like that ship too), but I almost think Langris is better suited for her in that he actually wants (or seems to want) the slower-paced life they’d probably have together. For instance, there are likely to be frequent situations that would arise in which Finesse is too ill or too tired to go out and her husband would then be “forced” to stay home with her. With Langris, I think, there would never really need to be much of that feeling of guilt on Finesse’s part or the fear that she is taking away something from Langris or being a burden, because Langris isn’t super sociable and would just want to stay home anyway. In fact, let’s be honest here, he’d probably, actually feel kind of relieved that he has gotten out of unwanted socializing. Whereas Finral is a much more lively and sociable person (rather than an "old soul" like Langris), and though Finral would never, ever want Finesse to feel like a burden or to feel guilty about being sick, I could imagine there is more of that feeling (at least from Finesse’s side) that he has given up a lot more to be with her since his active social life would drastically change as soon as they married.

There's also the matter of the panic Finral would probably have whenever Finesse was ill or having a flare of symptoms. Of course, Langris would be worried as well, but I think because of his personality, he is better able to shelve that and help in a crisis rather than Finral who gets really worked up and then just sort of shuts down. Obviously this is something that can be learned over time, but I just worry that it would be a constant source of stress for Finral which would ultimately make Finesse very worried about him and upset that he is upset on her account. I think Finesse would have a lot of fear that the life she could give a lively, busy, & social person like Finral would be holding him back in some way. The question there is really: will what Finral wants out of life ever gel with the limitations Finesse has to live with? Whereas I don't think that question is as much of an issue with Langris since he is an old soul and incredibly steady, very unlike his more restless, adventurous, and high-energy brother.

I think Langris and Finesse are alike in this way. Though they have many differences in their personalities (and a really nice balance there), they have a lot of similarities in worldview and their attitudes towards life and their life goals—being more traditional, formal, and proper ‘old souls.' Whereas I think she and Finral have more similarities in personality (despite him being much more lively), they’re both incredibly kind, gentle & easy-going people who aren’t particularly ambitious and often make decisions based on what will make other people happy and "keep the peace." But worldview wise he seems much more modern and less traditional than her which I could see causing some tensions since I think they want different things out of life, in a way. It’s almost more important to be alike in life goals/worldview than personality, I think.

I also think Finesse and Langris share common interests and genuinely enjoy each other's company (as we get these glimpses of in the anime where they're just having a quiet, comfortable tea parties together for instance). Even if it started off as an obligation to spend time together because of this arranged marriage they were going to be in, I like to think that eventually Langris and Finesse actually became fairly good friends and came to genuinely enjoy each other's company. I guess it’s a bit unfair to Finral to bring this up since we haven’t seen him spend a lot of time with Finesse so we can't say that they don’t enjoy each other’s company but I just don’t see them having the same shared interests that she would have with Langris.

There is a lot more I could say about these two and their relationship, but I think that's enough ramblings for now. If you read this all the way through to the end, bless you. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Cheers!! 💖

[much-the-millers-kid]

Is the WAA broke?

Those who have spent a semi-decent amount of time in the Ace Attorney Fandom knows that it's a common joke that the attorneys of the Wright Anything Agency don't get paid, but how accurate is that?

So, @inbarfink posted this wonderful analysis about how often the WAA gets paid (which I highly recommend you look at).  It is highly focused on the financial stability of the client and willingness to pay. However, I am still curious about some things.

First, inbarfink was not focused on which attorney got paid, and I want to know who is doing the best on average based on what we see in game (assuming they got paid individually and not some sort of collection pooling where the agency WAA gets paid and then Apollo and Athena are given regular salaries).

Also, how do cases where they’re likely to get paid correlate to how lucrative they are? As inbarfink explains, attorneys get paid whether they win or lose. However, I have never heard of attorneys being paid a flat rate for the case. More often, they document hours, and are paid on an hourly basis.

So cue me being a spreadsheet nerd and seeing what I can find out.

First: Who is the most likely to be paid?

As far as who is “Paid,” I’m just counting the “Lead” Attorney, unless it really is a full team effort. As an example, The Cosmic Turnabout has two Trial Days: one with Apollo and one with Phoenix. Given It was Apollo’s case initially and Phoenix was covering for Apollo due to injury, we’re assuming Apollo was the one to get paid; same for Trial of Dhurke Sahdmadi, where yes, Phoenix was behind the bench, but Apollo was the main one making arguments and is the one you play as.

I’m pretty sure the only “full team effort” is just the last case of Dual Destinies, which I’m leaving out for that, and because as Inbarfink explains, it is Phoenix defending one of his own employees due to a hostage situation. No one is getting paid for that.

The only other case not being included is The Trial of Zak Gramaraye, for the simple reason that Phoenix lost money. As Inbarfink points out, Phoenix is given a child and loses a badge, so they rightfully gave a score of -1. As accurate as this is, it kinda messes with the numbers and averages, so as an outlier, it is being left out.

After putting Inbarfink's Probability Ratings in a Google Sheet, I color-coded some things to help me notice some trends, and boy did I notice some things.

First of all, on the probability ratings, “Wright” fills up the majority of the lower end, and as they get higher, there’s more and more “Justice.” Not surprising, Apollo seems more likely to make sure he’s paid.

But also, Phoenix’s name is throughout the whole list. There’s only three cases that have a probability rating of 0.9 or higher, and Phoenix was lead on two of them. Granted, one of them is Turnabout Goodbyes, where Phoenix would possibly be the most likely to do it for free because it’s Miles, so that could be less Phoenix insisted on getting paid and more Miles refused to let Phoenix NOT be paid, although that’s debatable because while Larry didn’t pay, Phoenix did expect him to.

Still, the point stands that Phoenix isn’t quite the bleeding heart everyone makes him out to be.

Okay, so that’s first glance perceptions: What about what the numbers say? Who is the most consistently likely to be paid of WAA? The answer is…

*(drumroll)*

ATHENA! With an average probability rating of 0.7!

… Okay, that’s a little unfair to Phoenix and Apollo, given that Athena has only been “lead” on three cases that we’ve seen. She’s the newest; she hasn’t had the challenge of dealing with a Larry that’s going to try to get out of paying or being expected to defend another member of WAA like Phoenix and Apollo have. Although, she also hasn’t had a canon confirmation of payment, and 2 of her 3 cases were childhood best friend Juniper Woods so she may do a friend discount, so those bring her score down a bit anyway. Ah, the importance of sample size and knowing how the statistics come to be.

But yeah, as expected, Apollo is the next to be most consistently paid with an average probability rating of 0.68, and Wright trailing behind him at 0.44.

(Also, likely not super accurate because we only saw two of her cases, but Mia came in last with an average of 0.4).

That brings us to...

Who is making the most Bank? (aka: who is getting paid the most?)

We've seen who was most consistently paid, what about what those paydays were worth? Again, this is based on the time the cases took: Inbarfink covered the financial status of the clients in their likelihood to pay, so we're saying there is no change in rate for if someone has the wealth to pay it or not.

Now, admittedly, a really accurate depiction would look at all the time stamps at the beginning of each scene and count the hours that way. However, I don’t care enough to put that much effort into this (... at least for now; I may revisit this in the future and decide to go into more detail).

So for simplicity sake, I looked up how many “Time Units” a case took, with one unit being an Investigation or a Court Session. (ex. Tutorial Cases skip investigation and usually only have one court session, so they have one time unit, whereas a final case with three days of investigation and three  days in court would have six  time units.)

For the most part, this is relatively simple to figure out. Go through the wiki, count the number of investigation and trial days. Except, while doing this, I had a moment of “What the heck?” Because unless I am reading the Wiki wrong or there’s inaccurate information, there are no three-day trials after the first game.

Sure, the gameplay is longer because the games get more challenging. And yes, sometimes there is a day where something happens, but it is not officially time “On the Clock” as far as the case is concerned ... But I don't think there's and three-day trials after Rise from the Ashes.

For example, in Farewell, My Turnabout, Maya is kidnapped and Juan Corrida is killed on March 20. However, the investigation doesn’t begin until March 21. Also, there’s only two days in the courtroom, March 22 and 23, giving the case 4 Time Units: 2 investigation and 2 court. 

There are similar situations for a lot of cases where there is something going on where it is only 2 days officially, even if it plays like longer, especially for final cases of the game. Phoenix has a whole day at Hazakura Temple investigating Iris before anyone actually dies; the MASON System shows Phoenix’s follow-up investigation after Zak disappeared; Turnabout for Tomorrow shifts from Phoenix and Miles debating Athena’s innocence to all WAA and Blackquill going after the Phantom; Turnabout Revolution has the civil case with Apollo vs. Phoenix AND Apollo going up against both Nahyuta and Ga’ran. Something happens to make gameplay three days or multiple cases in one, but as far as payment goes, it’s one two-day case.

I could have sworn there were more three-day trials after the first game, but I guess maybe I was wrong.

Then, to get the “Pay Rate” I multiplied Inbarfink’s Probability Rating by the number of Time Units.

So here’s the interesting thing: Phoenix is the only member of WAA to have had 3-day trials. He only had three of them, but he’s the only one to have them. Also, two of those are also two of his three with a Probability of getting paid that’s higher than 0.75. If Phoenix budgets well (which I kinda want to assume he does given that last we saw he still had a Nokia brick), he might have gone at least the rest of the trilogy on Turnabout Samurai and Turnabout Goodbyes. I mean, on a scale of one to six, Phoenix is the only one with cases over four, and he has two of them.

Now, Apollo is still ahead when it comes to “how much do they get paid per case” on average. However, it is a much tighter race. 

Probability is ranked from 0-1, with Apollo at 0.68 and Phoenix at 0.44. Convert to the percent of what is possible (68% and 44%, respectively), and Apollo is in the lead by 24%.

However, the Pay Rate is ranked from 0 (not getting paid) to 6 (a score of 1 for definitely getting paid, times 6 Time Units). Apollo has an average Pay Rate of 2.04 out of 6 (34%) and Phoenix has an average Pay Rate of 1.94 out of 6 (32.3%). So as far as how much they’re getting paid on average, Phoenix is only behind Apollo by 1.7%.

Also, so far, Athena with her three cases, two of which didn’t have an investigation (that we saw at least), is still doing pretty okay with a Pay Rate of 1.73 (28.8%), and as far as Mia with her only two cases also not having investigations has a Pay Rate of 0.4 (6.7%), so… oof.

So there you go: Despite Phoenix's bleeding heart reputation, Mia is actually the broke bitch of the attorneys that have worked in that office. (Joking, obviously we only saw two of her cases so we don't have an accurate measure).

Apollo is the most likely to get consistently paid, and because of that he gets paid the most. However, while Phoenix has the most cases where he has a low expectation of getting paid, whether from someone trying to get out of paying or the goodness of his heart or just having too many other things on his mind, Phoenix also has some high clientele and he is the only one to end up with the on-the-wire three-day trials.

And of course, all this is based only on the cases we see in the games. Maybe if we get AA7, we'll see Athena or Apollo get their first three-day trial, or maybe being the only defense attorney in Kur'ain Apollo will have to do more pro bono work. We shall see.

Oh, and here's the full spreadsheet in game order, if anyone wants to make any other interesting observations.

Each Game and Lead Attorney was given their own color.

For the number color keys:

Probability Rating: Less than 0.25 is red, 0.25 to 0.5 is orange, 0.51 to 0.74 is yellow, and greater than 0.75 is green.

Investigation and Court Sessions: 0 is red, 1 is yellow, 2 is turquoise, and 3 is green.

Time Units: 1 is red, 2 is orange, 4 is turquoise, and 6 is green.

Pay Rate: Less than 1 is red, 1 to 2 is orange, 2 to 3 is yellow, 3 to 4 is purple, and greater than 4 is green.

[shijiujun]

Literally my one and only long post on TTEOTM ending:

Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu really gave stellar performances if they don’t win every award out there especially for Luo Yunxi who played every single nuanced version of sad, depressed, happy, sinister, vengeful, longing, pining and devotion out there like who else could?!

Also like the ending really left big question marks on Ye Qingyu and GYJW and YBC demon you know like???

---

CGI was damn amazing and production etc. was top-tier, but danggg will yall pls fix that ending?! Also a fun note that TTEOTM sold up to 13M RMB worth in merchandise DURING the airing period and broke some records I think 

---

BE or OE or HE and does it matter?

Yes appreciating BEs is one thing and BEs are certainly great for certain plots and shows, BUT-

We’ve seen this BE in xianxia and sometimes wuxia/historical as if writers are dumping set BEs in just for fun, it’s almost always the same formula and not every show requires the same treatment? At this point we’re all certain none of the xianxias maybe a bit of the wuxia/historical too are going to end well (Immortal Samsara, Novoland, One and Only although I’d say O&O was perhaps deserved) or we get OEs (Winner is Love, LYX’s previous xianxia), or we get the split-second HEs (omg where do I begin, Eternal Love, CLJ, Pillow Book, The Blue Whisper, omg the list goes on) - I’m almost expecting either full BE or the guy to die and then turn up when the female lead turns around on a street or at home or whatever hundreds of years later cuz he comes back but you may or may not see him on screen

TTJ for one, based on his character and personality, was trying so hard to make things work, to give and give and give to the people he loved and the people who gave to him - sure, the writer wrote it as a BE and i respect that, but they also wrote the HE i.e. it’s canon, and the show not giving us that for whatever reason is depressing because the moral of the story is TTJ suffered so fucking much and led such a tired life just for a few happy moments and still was the sacrificial lamb. Yes he was happy too or whatever, he understood the circumstances, but is it so hard to give the canon HE ending to it and giving him the ending he truly deserves for all that he’s done?!

Also it was a strangely cut ending for a BE/OE whatever that was, like three stitched frames that faded out into each other, like I don’t know what the editors were doing but oomph an undeserved ending is one thing, and undeserved AND weirdly cut ending is another thing

And yeah if we read it as him being in the clam then yes it’s a mild HE but leaning towards an OE, and if we count the audio drama snippet sure HE, but no that don’t count!!!!

I feel pretty calm after the initial confusion since we already knew it was likely going to be BE BUT this calm is at the expense of watching TTJ suffer 10,000 times in the past 40 episodes we’ve been desensitized for the last death like don’t tell me yall aren’t tired of this show as much as you love it I AM EXHAUSTED MENTALLY - the “ok” i feel probably isn’t because it’s really ok because if we chose, we’d probably think he deserves his rest and happiness after 500+ years of suffering with happy days he can probably count on one hand 

---

Read the novel for the HEs: This is literally the only thing that’ll save you unless Youku gives us a good video cut tomorrow or end of the week you know?! You’ll truly see what TTJ deserved and we know he didn’t deserve this because WE DON’t EVEN HAVE TO WRITE THE FIX-IT OURSELVES IT LITERALLY EXISTS?!?!?!

But TBF, personally, I have slightly different feelings on the novel because Susu didn’t seem to love him as much at the end as she did in the drama, the drama did that beautifully

---

TL;DR Tantai Jin deserved better, and the us who suffered with TTJ deserved better just on principle!!!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Brothers in Arms: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: You try one more time to get your dad to see how great of a man Spencer is but like before, it doesn’t go as well as you hope. Phoenix Arizona is dealing with a serial killer that is masquerading as gang members, but your team sees through the facade.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"We are all brothers under the skin, and I, for one, would be willing to skin humanity to prove it." - Ayn Rand

Summer is almost over which means the cooler temperatures are right around the corner. Virginia is cooling down in the month of September, but you get to go to Phoenix, Arizona for the case you're on. It's going to be a nice change of weather, and it's close enough to your parents that maybe you can visit them. They don't get along with Spencer, but maybe if you push him onto them, they will give up being stubborn and start to see him as someone you love.

Right now, you have to focus on the case at hand. Two officers were killed in action, and the news is on the Phoenix Police Department regarding the issue. Earlier in the evening, the Phoenix Police Force lost two of their own. Sergeant Manuel Rodriguez and Officer Thomas Kayser were killed in the line of duty.

"That's three officers in the past four days," Jordan addresses everyone. "After the first shooting, the Phoenix Police Department assumed gang involvement."

"That's a pretty reasonable assumption."

"True. Almost thirty percent of all officer slayings are gang-related."

"Technically it's closer to forty percent," Spencer corrects. "If a cop isn't killed during the commission of a crime, gang involvement is highly likely."

"Actually, their precinct commander believes it may be a serial and has asked for our help."

"What makes him doubt the gang theory?" Rossi asks.

"A couple of things. Last night's victims were killed exactly the same as the first, shot in the neck. That's something the press didn't release."

"Well, now, wait. There could still be a gang behind this. Killers working together could establish the same MO," Emily states.

"Commander Marks hasn't ruled it out, but there's another detail. The killer took their badges, which I'm guessing is some kind of trophy?"

Jordan is picking up a lot of things while at her time here, but you don't think she will last long by herself.

"Gang members don't usually take trophies. They don't need to. This is an unsub with something to prove, and he's got the entire city on edge. If they kill those who protect and serve, then no one feels safe."

The briefing is cut short so that you can get to Phoenix faster, and you're one of the first ones out of the room. Phoenix is only four and a half hours away from Las Vegas, and you might not be able to leave to go to them, but if they want to come down to you, then you'll give them that option.

After leaving them a detailed message, you gather your go bag and head to the plane where only Spencer is. The others still have twenty minutes to get to you, so you'll enjoy the alone time you both have.

"Hey, I let my parents know that we're going to Phoenix. If they come down, will you go to lunch or dinner with me? This is my last chance to make them like you."

"I don't know," Spencer says with uncertainty.

"Please? It would mean a lot to me."

Spencer has a light bulb go off in his head. If he agrees to lunch, then he can look more into the foster business your parents have. It's not snooping if it's casual conversation.

"Sure. I think we can make that work."

"Thank you."

The rest of the team comes aboard shortly, and before you know it, you're in the air. Hotch has Penelope on video chat so she can be part of this discussion without actually being here.

"Go ahead, Garcia."

"Okay, while you birds have been in the air, I got the 4-1-1 on the first shooting. Every Saturday night, Phoenix PD sets up a DUI checkpoint. Everyone knows it happens. Public awareness is part of the deterrent, so our unsub blows past said checkpoint at ninety miles per hour and is pursued by Officer Jason Kessinger. Kessinger pulls the car over and approaches the driver's side window where he is shot in the throat. He was a single parent with two daughters."

"So, the unsub planned ahead, used the DUI stop to set his trap and then lured the officer to his death. It could have been personal. The unsub might have had a problem with these particular officers or with law enforcement in general. He's sending a message."

"Criminals, gang members, academy washouts, security, and teenagers? The list of people who have a problem with police officers is a long one," Spencer says.

"The victims were shot in the neck so the unsub knew they'd be wearing body armor, and he used a DUI checkpoint. I mean, both incidents show an active understanding of police procedure which narrows it down to anybody who watches television."

"We need to cover victimology. Garcia, find out everything you can about the officers killed and see what they had in common besides their uniforms."

"Will do, but I should warn you, it will not be cake because I have been on the phone with these guys all morning, and pulling files from them has been like pulling molars."

"Is there a problem?"

"You know, aside from the obvious grief for their fallen comrades and their fear of being used as target practice, I get the distinct impression from their crabby behavior, they are none too pleased their boss is outsourcing this investigation to the FBI. Be prepared to hit a blue wall of resistance."

A blue wall of resistance is exactly what you got when you arrived at the police department. There are news reporters outside waiting for comments about what happened, but you bypass them to get inside. Commander Jason Marks is ready to greet you as soon as you walk in.

"Commander Marks, I'm SSA Hotchner. This is agent Todd, agents Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, Y/N, and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"I thank you all for coming. Although, I'd like to have a word if you don't mind." Hotch steps off to the side to talk to him, and the Commander turns to one of his men who is talking to a distraught woman. "Lieutenant Peter Evans will answer any questions the rest of you may have."

The Commander walks with Hotch to his office and Evans excuses himself to greet your team.

"Sorry, that was Officer Kayser's wife. They'd only been married a couple of months. She seems to think that the FBI is here to save the day. Is that what you're going to do, Agents?"

You raise your eyebrows at his attitude. He's cocky and skeptical. He doesn't want you here at all since he thinks he can handle it on his own. After all, these are his people and you're strangers. They're all so sure this is gang-related, but you have a job to do. He's ordered to help you in every way he can, so Emily and Derek head to the newest crime scene.

According to Evans, this side of town is Twelve's territory which is the gang that is prominent in this area. Evans thinks they're behind all of the shootings, but he acts like it doesn't matter because the gang is the easy way out.

The Twelves gang has a Captain who goes by the name of Playboy. One of the officers broke up a drug ring and shot his brother who was DOA. They thought Playboy would kill them all. It's a strong motivation, for sure, but the dashcam only showed one attacker. Usually, gang bangers bring more than one person as a backup in case something were to happen.

The only problem with that is the dash cam only showed one attacker, but the attacker showed his face on camera. The running theory is that he wanted to take both of the cops out at the house, but they broke protocol. One of the officers approached the house by himself, forcing the unsub to take them out separately. The officer could have waited inside the car and gained the element of surprise, but he wanted to take matters into his own hands.

The choice of neighborhoods was deliberate since the neighbors are used to hearing gunfire. Everyone will blame it on the gangs and so will the police. The worst thing about this is that everyone with force knows he's out there, and even with the extra backup, Phoenix PD is still going to have to do their jobs.

They could walk into an ambush every time they take a call, and that's the scary part. Penelope and the Phoenix PD techs have gone over the dashcam of the recent murder frame by frame, but there is no way to identify the shooter. The only thing you're getting is approximate height and weight. The unsub's face isn't the only way to identify him, though. You have to look at specific behavioral traits."

"These are the reasons you don't believe it's a gang?" Commander Marks asks when you explain this to him.

"The shooter established what we call a signature, something he did during the murders that wasn't actually necessary. Not part of his MO but identical in every attack."

"In this case, the unsub took the officer's badges. He's symbolically stripping them of their power and authority. This act is indicative of someone who is looking to gain self-esteem."

"Gang members and other assailants who work together kill for different reasons, but usually it's not to gain confidence because they already have it."

In the video, the unsub lingers by the body when taking the badges off the officer. Usually, it would take a few seconds to take that, but the unsub lingers longer than usual.

"Hotch, did you see that? Can we pause this?" Spencer asks the tech who is controlling the video. "Okay, now zoom in and press play. Taking the badge would have taken a few seconds. He's lingering."

"Doing what?" Marks asks.

"That's a good question."

Your phone rings when your dad sends you a message. He and your mom are available for lunch, and you have some time to step away from the job for an hour, at least. This might be the only time you can step away from the job.

"Hotch? My parents want to go to lunch with me. Can Spencer and I go for an hour?"

"Yes. Be ready to come back if we call you."

"Of course."

Spencer isn't too excited to go to lunch with your parents, but you're going to make sure they behave. Your mom isn't as bad as your dad is, but you can tell that she isn't too fond of you having a long-term boyfriend. All throughout your life, whenever you told them you were in a relationship, they either ran them off or became too involved to the point where they left.

"Please be nice to him," you whisper to your dad when you greet him.

Spencer shakes your dad's hand, but your dad isn't too friendly toward him. You four take a seat just as the waitress comes over with some bread. She takes the drinks orders and leaves, and you turn to your parents with a smile.

"Thank you for inviting us."

"I invited you," your dad says.

If this is how lunch is going to go, then you're going to leave right now. Spencer doesn't deserve the shit he's putting him through.

"Can we please be civilized here? We're all adults. I'm not a child anymore. Spencer isn't like my high school boyfriends."

"I know."

"So, are you in town for business?" your mother asks.

"Yes. We're on a case here"

"What do you do, Spencer? I mean, for the FBI. Aren't all agents supposed to be strong when they're in the field?"

Spencer is taken aback by the question, but before he has a chance to answer, you stick up for him.

"First of all, he is strong. He's one of the strongest people I know. Secondly, he does so much in the field for the team. He's also very smart, and I'm very proud of him because of it."

"Tell me something. While you're so busy reading books and studying, how do you expect to protect my baby girl?"

This was such a bad idea. You shouldn't have brought him here. In some twisted way, you thought you could get him to like Spencer, but it's clearly never going to happen. Your dad bullies him whenever they meet, and you can't subject Spencer to this anymore.

"Mom?" you sigh.

"I mean, he has a point," she shrugs.

"I can protect her," Spencer answers.

"Are you the kind of person to run into a burning fire for her? Or are you the one to stay on the sidelines and watch it happen?"

"Dad, please stop," you whisper to him.

"Do you know about her past?"

It's like he's not even listening to you.

"Can we not do this here, please?" you groan uncomfortably.

"I do, but I'd never hurt her like that."

"What if someone comes up and just grabs her off the streets? Would your tiny arms be able to protect her? What if you don't make it in time?"

"Okay, that's enough," you say a little too loudly. "If you don't stop right now, I'm taking Spencer and leaving. You will never see me again. Do you understand me?"

Your dad finally looks at you, and it's like the film has been lifted from his eyes. His eyes don't soften, but he hears the threat in your words.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Alright," your mom chuckles to try and break the tension. "How are you doing in Virginia?"

"I'm fine. Virginia is beautiful. You should really come to visit when you get a chance."

"You should really move back home," your dad comments. "We always need help on the farm."

"You have enough help with the kids you're fostering."

"They don't stay long enough to know what to do. They're only staying for a few weeks."

"I actually wanted to know more about that, sir," Spencer says. "I've been curious about your business since Y/N told me about it. If you don't mind me asking, how are they getting adopted so quickly?"

"What do you mean?"

"The average time it takes for a child to get adopted is six to eighteen months. That's mostly because of paperwork and legal aspects. You said they are gone in a few weeks, so how is that possible?"

"A lot of people want to adopt," your dad narrows his eyes at Spencer.

"Can we please move on to a different subject? I never intended for this lunch to be an interrogation." You turn to Spencer. "Those kids should be lucky they're going into a loving home."

Your dad's eye twitches at the word "loving", but you and Spencer miss it. For the rest of the lunch, the tension stayed an unwelcome guest. Right before dessert, Hotch called you to come back because there is a new crime scene. He gave you the address to go to instead of going back to the police department.

"I don't know why you're being so hard on him. Why are you being like this?" you ask as you and Spencer stand to leave.

"I'm sorry, baby."

You hug your mom first before going over to your dad. He squeezes a bit too tightly, so you pull away sooner than he'd like. He grabs your wrist and you gasp from how tight he's holding it.

"Ow, you're hurting me."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry."

As soon as he lets go, you see the outline of his fingers forms. He smooths your hair back and kisses your forehead. They both pay for you and Spencer and as you're leaving, you rub your wrist absentmindedly.

"He left a bruise on your wrist?" Spencer asks when he opens the car door for you.

"It was an accident. It's fine."

x

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[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: XXIV

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: You must deal with the Zenins in order to be able to recommend your classmates for well-deserved promotions.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.3k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: you all know what the next chapter is 😔

“You really think they’re ready for that kind of designation?” Todo said. You and him were sitting across from one another in some cafe or another, each sipping on your own drinks. You nodded.

“Gojo agrees. He’s the one who mentioned it, actually, and of course he would never force me to give a recommendation if I didn’t believe it was earned, but in my opinion, those seven have definitely earned it,” you said.

“The Zenins will have something to say about it,” Todo said.

“Since when have either of us ever cared about what the Zenins say?” you said, arching a brow at him. Todo chuckled, taking a bite out of the pastry he had ordered and chewing contemplatively.

“That’s true,” he said. “Alright, then. I’ll trust your judgment as always. When should we go?”

“Later,” you said. “The thought of going to headquarters right now is giving me a migraine. Besides, I have some errands to run and things to do in the meanwhile; I just wanted to check in with you and make sure that you were on board with the idea.”

“What would you have done if I wasn’t?” Todo said.

“I don’t really know. Gojo couldn’t give his recommendation as he’s a teacher, and Yuta’s overseas, so he couldn’t, either. I suppose we might’ve had to pay Mei Mei or tried to convince Nanami, but I’m pretty sure Nanami regrets giving us his recommendation, so I doubt he’d do it again,” you said.

“What, does he think we’re weak or something?” Todo said, clearly fired up at the perceived insult. Immediately, you shook your head.

“No, not at all. He acknowledges our strength — it’s just that he feels bad putting so much responsibility on the shoulders of two children, or at least that’s the vibe I was getting,” you said.

“That does make a bit more sense, but he’s being optimistic if he thinks childhood excludes us from the reality of this world,” he said.

“It’s his viewpoint, so I won’t try to argue for or against it,” you said. “Worst case, we would’ve called Kaito.”

Todo made a face. “Good thing it didn’t come to that.”

Kaito Hinode was Tullia’s cousin, and the reason she had even come to Japan in the first place. Although he was definitely handsome, and talented enough as a sorcerer, those two qualities were about all he had going for him. He was widely known throughout jujutsu society for being air-headed and scatterbrained, and he was reckless to boot, always somehow ending up in your family’s manor getting healed. Though he would definitely give his recommendation if you asked, the higher ups usually did not take him very seriously despite allowing him to be a Grade 1 sorcerer — in fact, the only reason it had been alright that he had been one of the ones to recommend you and Todo was because the other was the levelheaded Nanami, who even the higher ups had a begrudging respect for.

“Exactly,” you said. “It’s for the best that you agreed to it, especially because now it won’t just seem like favoritism or Gojo and I just promoting the people we like for no reason.”

“I don’t think the higher ups would’ve thought that either way. Like it or not, recommending your friends for Grade 1 status puts them in more danger, and you aren’t the kind of person that would do that unless you were absolutely sure they could handle it. Maybe they wouldn’t put it past Gojo, but everyone knows how much you love your friends,” Todo said.

“That’s true enough,” you said.

“What errands are you running today, then?” Todo said. You drew up a mental list of the things you had to do before you responded, already annoyed just at the thought of some of them.

“First, I have to visit the Zenin clan,” you said.

“What? Why would you ever put yourself through that?” he said. You gave him a look.

“You know that they have to be made aware of Maki and Megumi getting promoted, right? It’s better if I go than you, so don’t worry. I’m used to how they operate, so I’ll make sure there isn’t an issue with it. It’ll be more like a formal notice than a request for permission,” you said. Todo frowned.

“Just be careful, and don’t hesitate to call me for help if you need it. I’m not really doing anything much today, so I’ll be there in a flash if I hear that they’re bothering you,” he said.

“Thanks, Todo. It shouldn’t be a problem; the Zenins know to tread carefully around me. Naoya’s suspension was only lifted recently, and they’re all aware of the fact that I have the Kamos, L/Ns, and Gojos on my side,” you said. “It wouldn’t be to their advantage to outright hurt me. Now, I’m sure they’ll argue about what I’m going to tell them, but that’s to be expected.”

“I always forget that my rival is a child of nepotism,” Todo said. “Or maybe it’s that I purposefully try to not think about it. It’s the most boring thing about you, you know.”

“I don’t know if calling an inherited technique ‘nepotism’ is exactly right, but you could look at it that way, sure,” you said. “Anyways, after dealing with the Zenins, I’m going to go get some new curtains for my room. I’m bored with the ones I have right now.”

“I’d offer to help with that, too, but I doubt you’d want my help with interior design,” Todo said. “Even if I am really skilled at it.”

“Right, I think I’m good, but thanks for the offer,” you said. You actually didn’t doubt that Todo had an eye for interior design, as he seemed like the type who would, but you had this sense that your tastes differed in some ways, so it’d probably be for the best if you left him behind this time.

“Since you have so much to do, you should probably get going, huh?” he said. “Like I told you, I’ll keep my phone on. The instant you call, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Todo,” you said. “I promise that if I need something while I’m at the Zenin manor, you’ll be the third person I reach out to.”

“The third?” he said, scandalized. You placed your hands on his shoulders.

“The first would obviously be Gojo, and the second would be Noritoshi, both of whom would be much better suited to dealing with clan politics than you. If they’re both busy, then I’ll be certain to ring you,” you said. He knocked your hands away with a huff.

“I see how it is,” he said.

“Don’t be too offended. I like you better for not being born a clan heir,” you said.

“Your attempts to save face are not working,” he said.

“Maybe I should leave before I shove my foot further into my mouth, then,” you said. “See you around. I'll text you to come pick me up when it’s time to go to headquarters.”

“See you then, Y/N,” he said.

The Zenin mansion was a technically beautiful building. You had to admit this much, even though you hated the clan and everything they stood for — they had the aesthetic of a wealthy family down. They were not as extravagant as the Gojos, who had everything in excess, but neither were they as traditional and austere as the Kamos, who adhered to the thoughts and practices of their forebears rather strictly. It was something in between, a kind of class that was borne from a mixture of opulence and convention.

The gate did not squeal at all when you opened it, stepping into the courtyard of the massive home. Soft pink flowers dusted from a towering tree, the petals dancing in the breeze and giving an ethereal quality to the atmosphere. Somewhere, someone was playing the piano, and it was the most beautiful song you had ever heard, a mournful tune that floated out through an open window and tangled with the blossoms as they fell.

“Y/N L/N,” a stern voice said. You blinked, breaking out of your daze and finding yourself face to face with a man you knew to be Ogi Zenin — as in, the father of your best friend, Maki. “What business do you have here?”

“I come as a courtesy to the Zenins. However, my business is with Naobito, not you,” you said. Ogi did not seem like he was inclined to believe you, crossing his arms.

“Naobito is the head of the Zenin clan. He does not have the time nor the will to deal with a L/N grunt like you,” he said.

“L/N grunt?” you repeated. “It’s ironic of you to call me that when I’m a Grade 1 sorcerer, and the girl who brought someone back to life. In fact, I’d actually argue that I’m exactly the sort of person that Naobito would want to deal with.”

“Whether you’ve done all of that or not is irrelevant. You’re still a nobody in your clan, and nobodies don’t have the status required to meet with clan heads,” he said, moving to close the door on your face. “Is that all?”

“Wait!” you said. If you didn’t get this audience with Naobito, then you wouldn’t be able to recommend Maki and Megumi. It was one of those ridiculous rules that was stopping the promotion you were trying so desperately to give, and maybe Ogi understood why you were there, maybe that was why he was behaving in this way, but you refused to back down. The Zenins had ruined Maki’s life enough already, and you would not let them continue on in such a manner. “The piano. Take me to the person who is playing the piano.”

“The piano? Are you certain?” Ogi said, and now he seemed apprehensive in a way he had not before.

“Yes,” you said. “I know this piece; it is a difficult one, and yet they play it flawlessly. I want to give them my compliments.”

Ogi furrowed his brow, but he exhaled heavily, beckoning you in and bidding you follow him. You did so at once, not wanting to squander the opportunity you had been given. It was your hope that whoever was playing the piano would be a bit more agreeable than Ogi and would at least take you to Naobito, who you could then argue with until he accepted your words.

“Don’t think that this will go how you want it to,” Ogi warned as you reached the room where the music was originating from. “I know what you’re planning, but it won’t work.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you said. “You can just think of me as a music lover.”

Ogi slid the door open. “Tell that to him.”

The song abruptly stopped, and your eyebrows shot up involuntarily when you saw who had been playing. He looked confused, standing up as if to reprimand whoever had interrupted him, but when he saw you standing beside Ogi, a sly smirk formed on his face, his fox-like eyes gleaming.

“Well, well, well,” Naoya said, crossing his arms. “To what do I owe the pleasure of the L/N girl paying a visit to my study?”

“She wanted to pay you her compliments for your musical skill,” Ogi said, clearly amused at your obvious horror. This was, quite literally, the absolutely worst way things could have gone. You had been planning on avoiding Naoya for the entire visit, but yet here you were, standing at the doorway of his study, with him as your only hope at getting to meet Naobito Zenin.

“Is that so?” Naoya said, curling his index finger at you. “Well, you can hardly praise me from there, can you? Come inside, little L/N. You can leave us, uncle. I’d like to hear these compliments alone.”

“Certainly,” Ogi said, shutting the door behind you with a finality as you stepped inside with all the mechanical jerkiness of a wind-up toy. Naoya sat back down on the stool, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, peering up at you as if he were some kind of pillar of innocence.

“So, then? I’m excited. Did you really like my piano playing that much?” he said.

“You’re certainly better at piano than sorcery,” you said through gritted teeth. “Though that’s not really saying a lot.”

“You are so beautiful, and yet you say such crude things,” Naoya said, sighing and leaning back against the window. “It’s such a shame. I’d like you more if you kept your mouth shut more often.”

“I’m not exactly here to please you. I have to meet your father,” you said.

“And here I thought you were so fond of me for saving you after that snake curse almost killed you,” he said sardonically. “It’s not a surprise that you’re not here for me. I didn’t think you would be.”

All semblance of the gentler facade vanished without a trace, and he became the Naoya you were accustomed to — harsh, brash, arrogant, blunt, and rude. You scowled at him. He scowled back, though it was infuriatingly mocking instead of angry, like he found your irritation entertaining.

“You’re still proud of yourself for that?” you said.

“I consider it my greatest achievement,” he shot back. “I’ve thought about making that picture my home screen so I can be reminded of it every day.”

“You’re a freak,” you said.

“And you’re a girl,” he said.

“That’s not an insult, so I don’t know why you’ve framed it as one,” you said.

“The fact that you don’t realize it’s an insult only further proves your simplicity,” he said.

“Will you take me to meet your father or not?” you said. Naoya pretended to contemplate this, hemming and hawing like he hadn’t made a decision before you even asked the question.

“No,” he said. “After all, what’s in it for me? Unless you can offer me something worthwhile in exchange, that is, because if you can, then I’ll definitely oblige.”

“What do you want?” you said. For him to be making that kind of request suggested that he already had some kind of payment in mind, and furthermore, knowing Naoya, that payment wasn’t something you’d really want to give him.

“I want to marry you,” he said. “And no, it’s not because I like you, so don’t get the wrong idea in your head. On the whole, I think you’re far too stubborn and don’t accept your place in society, so you’d likely make a shitty wife, but at the end of the day, I want to be the next head of the Zenin clan, and for me to do that, to beat out the rest of my family for the title, I need something big by my side. Something like the backing of the L/Ns. Something like a wife who’s brought a man back to life.”

“Even if I would agree to that kind of an unfair exchange — which, by the way, I wouldn’t — who I marry isn’t up to me to decide. You must’ve forgotten, but I’m already engaged to Noritoshi, so I can’t just say yes to this kind of proposal and be done with the affair. I wouldn’t dare incur the wrath of the Kamos like that,” you said.

“The Zenins would protect you. You forget that the Kamos need the L/Ns in order to stay relevant, just like the L/Ns need the Kamos in order to elevate their status. You’re the key to it all, Y/N, the one who can shift the balance between the clans,” he said. It was the first time he had ever said your name. You hoped he would never say it again. Even if being referred to as the L/N girl was degrading, your name was your own, something that you were loath to share with someone like him.

“I’m not some kind of key,” you said. “I’m just an ordinary sorcerer. I don’t know why the clans are so invested in what I do or who I marry. Bringing someone back to life was a one-time thing, and even though I am so talented with Composition, it’s reliant on somebody else’s power, so I’d say it barely even counts. Besides, it’s not a guarantee that any children I have will inherit Dissection and Composition from me, so I don’t know why any of you think that that’s a certainty.”

“It’s not a certainty, but there’s definitely a high chance that they will,” Naoya said. “Look, those are my terms. Say you’ll marry me, and I’ll let you meet my father. It’s the only chance you’ll get to talk to him, so make a decision quickly and be done with it.”

“What do you think Gojo will say if he finds out about this?” you said. Mentioning Gojo’s name was a surefire way to get the clans off your back when they were irritating you too much — though they didn’t love him, they had to respect him, as he was the sole representative of the Gojo clan and also the strongest sorcerer of the time.

“He might not be pleased, but haven’t you noticed that despite being under his wing, you’re still engaged to Noritoshi? Do you think he’d do anything if that engagement was transferred to me, instead?” he said.

“Yes, because he knows I don’t like you,” you said. “Everyone knows it. You think the higher ups won’t be suspicious that you’re marrying a girl that got you suspended from sorcery? It won’t ensure your place as clan head. It’ll just make you look like an idiot.”

“Fine, then,” he said. “Don’t marry me. Do something else for me in return.”

“What?” you said, trying not to sound too eager. Almost anything was better than marriage to Naoya; though it was definitely a beneficial union for him, it was the opposite for you. If you had to marry someone in one of the Big Three clans, then you were perfectly happy with Noritoshi, who was content with letting you do as you pleased and actually treated you like an equal and friend instead of a servant.

“Come listen to me play the piano again someday,” he said. “And actually say something heartfelt about it when you do.”

You were sure that in the meantime, he’d try his very best to convince your parents to let you marry him instead of Noritoshi, citing this future meeting as proof that you liked him, too. But this was not a big deal for you — you’d protest vehemently if your parents tried to dissolve your engagement with Noritoshi, and if they went ahead with it regardless, then you really would run away to live with Gojo. Anyways, the L/Ns were a passive clan, so they likely wouldn’t go back on an agreement with the Kamos for fear of a retaliation that they could not handle.

“Sure,” you said. “You should probably practice a bit more if you want what I say to be kind, though.”

“You just want to have the last word,” Naoya observed. “I’m the best pianist in the Zenin clan.”

He was right, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Unfortunately, you had never heard someone play the piano with as much skill as him, so there wasn’t much to critique in that area, but you would rather die than say something nice to Naoya Zenin, so you didn’t mention that, either.

“Now that you’ve gotten your promise of payment, take me to your father,” you said. Naoya stood gamely, offering you his arm. You sneered at it in disgust, and he rolled his eyes before lowering it.

“I suppose that that would be expecting too much out of you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay three steps behind me. I don’t know what the L/Ns have taught you, but in the Zenin household, that’s what’s customary for women, and you’re no exception,” he said.

You suppressed the urge to imitate his smarmy words and way of speaking, deciding that there was no point in it when you had already just barely convinced him to give you an audience with his father. Instead, you made sure to stomp your feet as you stayed the ‘customary three paces’ behind him, sounding quite a bit like a petulant child but having no other way to express your disdain for the arrangement.

“Here we are,” Naoya said. “I’ll see you soon, little L/N.”

“Not too soon,” you said, shouldering past him so that you could make your way into the room where Naobito Zenin was reclining, downing something alcoholic that spilled past the corners of his mouth and dripped onto the floor. The scent of his drink filled the room, and for an entire minute, you stood in front of him and waited for him to put it down and notice your presence.

“Who let you in here?” he said after a bit, using the back of his hand to wipe at his face and gazing up at you groggily, blinking slowly and squinting like the light from the window behind you was too harsh. “Huh? Y/N L/N? How’d you come in?”

“That’s not what you should be concerned with. Rather, it is the purpose of my visit that is of import. Have you guessed it yet?” you said. Naobito coughed. You did not flinch.

“You want to promote that girl,” he said.

“Maki,” you said. “That’s correct. Today, in the evening, I will be one of the two sorcerers giving her and Megumi their initial recommendations. The rules dictate that you be made aware of both.”

“Megumi Fushiguro, eh? That’s fine. He has the Ten Shadows, so it’s a wonder it took so long for him to get the recommendations in the first place,” Naobito said.

“You’re going to try and stop me from recommending Maki though, aren’t you?” you guessed.

“How’d you find another Grade 1 willing to recommend her? She’s not particularly strong, so why would she get promoted in the first place?” he said.

“You weren’t there for the most recent exchange event, so I’ll forgive you for your ignorance, but the truth is that Maki’s gone toe to toe with a special grade curse already. Even if she didn’t win, just being able to fight back against something of that magnitude is clear evidence that she’s deserving of the status,” you said.

“She doesn’t even have a cursed technique,” Naobito said. You exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose to ward off your coming headache. This was why you hated dealing with the higher ups — they were the most ridiculously traditional people to ever exist on the face of the earth.

“I didn’t want to do this, but since you insist on being difficult, I’ll remind you: Maki is my best friend, and she is Satoru Gojo’s pupil. Consequently, she has the support of the L/Ns and the Gojos. Do you think that continuing to block her promotion will end up well for you? At the end of the day, no matter how self-sufficient the Zenins are, none of them can heal. You can isolate yourselves if you choose, but without the help of the L/Ns or Shoko Ieri, all of you will eventually die in the war against curses,” you said.

“And do you speak for the L/Ns, girl?” Naobito said. “They don’t even respect you. You think that some ‘administrative delay’ stopped them from coming during the exchange event? Don’t be ridiculous. The Kamo boy was injured, so there’s not a soul alive that would’ve stopped them from going to that school if they wanted to.”

“What?” you said, your blood going cold. Naobito wheezed out a laugh.

“You are naive, aren’t you? Your father was the one who said that the L/Ns wouldn’t come to help,” he said.

“Why would he do that?” you said. Naobito shrugged lazily, tossing the now empty pitcher at the wall. It shattered with a deafening crash, clay shards flying everywhere. To punctuate it, Naobito burped.

“I dunno. I’ve never understood the ways of you L/Ns. You’d have to ask him yourself,” he said.

“I don’t have the time to go to the manor just to talk to him,” you said. “I have things to do. Sorcerers to recommend.”

“You’re still going on about that?” Naobito said. “Fine. I give you my permission. Go ahead and recommend Maki. It’s not like you’ll be the one supervising her, anyways. I’ll ensure it’s only ever members of my clan that take her on the missions; see if she becomes a Grade 1 then!”

“She’ll prove you wrong,” you said. “Do you understand that? She’s stronger than you realize. She’ll become a Grade 1 sorcerer in spite of what you’re doing here.”

“You both make a foolish pair,” he said. “Two girls that think they can face the clans and win.”

“Maybe I’ll never be anything more than a puppet,” you allowed. “But not her. She’s the one who will break free from all of this. She’s the one who will take you down.”

“Maki Zenin has all the strength of a flyhead,” Naobito said.

“Then I wonder how weak that must make you,” you said with a bow. “Good day, sir. Thank you for your compliance. I will report to the higher ups at once.”

Todo pulled up to the department store you were shopping for curtains at in good time. He took your bags from you and put them in the trunk, and then he opened the door to the passenger seat before ensuring you were buckled up and your phone was connected to the Bluetooth radio so you could play music. Only then did he begin to drive towards the jujutsu headquarters, singing along to whatever songs you put on in his surprisingly melodic voice.

“By the way, Todo, are you really sure you’re okay with this?” you said. He paused mid-high-note, giving you a confused look.

“Of course I am! I want my brother to get the recognition he deserves,” he said. “And it’ll be fun to accompany him on his missions. Getting the chance to watch him continue to learn and improve, taking part in the improvement…it’ll be a rush for sure!”

“Huh? Wait, Todo, don’t you remember—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said, cutting you off. “There’s a chance I might not be the one who’s assigned as his supervisor. Well, let me tell you something here and now: Yuji Itadori and I are meant to be together! He is more than just my best friend, he is my brother, and that’s a bond you’ll never understand. Us being together on our missions…why, it’s just destiny!”

“Um, actually, it’s not. Like I was saying, don’t you remember that recommenders can’t also be supervisors? That’s why Nanami and Kaito weren’t able to supervise us on our missions, and why Naoya had to step in at one point — due to the lack of Grade 1 sorcerers as a whole. We won’t be able to accompany any of them on missions, at least not on ones directly related to their promotions,” you said.

Todo slammed on the brakes, which prompted several honks from the cars behind him that had obviously not been expecting the abrupt stop.

“What?”

Walking through jujutsu headquarters with Todo beside you reminded you of the summertime, of the many missions you had had to take in order to reach full Grade 1 status. It was nostalgic in a way, and then as you walked towards the main office, you remembered what it had been like when Nanami and Kaito had given you their recommendations. Elbowing Todo, who was still grieving the news that he couldn’t supervise Itadori, you grinned up at him.

“Can you believe it? Not so long ago, we were the ones getting recommended,” you said.

“The start of our rivalry, huh? Well, I guess that was the exchange event, but I’d argue that being recommended at the same time cemented it,” he said, cheering up slightly. You weren’t sure if the setting sun was making the memories softer, but for some reason, you felt particularly fond at the moment, thinking back to those times.

“Now we’re the ones giving recommendations,” you said. “It’s crazy how far we’ve come. It’s only been about a year or so since I even became a sorcerer, and now I’m a Grade 1. You know, before joining the school, I was really unhappy.”

“You were?” he said.

“Of course I was. I was considered the failure of my clan, a girl who couldn’t even heal a papercut. I spent my time locked away in my room, told that the only thing I could ever amount to was a dutiful wife for a clan head. But what kind of an existence is that? Becoming a sorcerer was the first time I did something for myself. I took control of my life, and look at where that’s landed me! I can use Composition now, I’ve even revived someone with it, and I’m a first class sorcerer, as well,” you said. “I didn’t realize how wonderful it could be to be my own person, but now I’m so glad I got that chance.”

“I’m glad, too,” Todo said. “After all, I’d never be as strong as I am now without your advice and our rivalry to push me forwards!”

“You know what? I don’t even want to know what you mean when you refer to the advice I give you. I think I’ll never understand it, but I’m fine with that,” you said, finally giving up for good on trying to comprehend Todo’s method. “Let’s go and deal with some dusty old men now, shall we?”

“After you,” he said, opening the door and motioning for you to enter. Once, you would’ve been apprehensive, but now you walked in with confidence, your chin held high and your back straight, your strides even and measured. You were meant to be there. You weren’t an imposter. You were deserving of your place in this society.

“Y/N L/N and Aoi Todo,” Principal Gakuganji said. “The two of you understand better than anyone what it means to be Grade 1 sorcerers. Yet you still believe you should go ahead with this?”

“Yes,” Todo said from beside you, no longer his goofy self but every bit the proud and strong sorcerer that one would expect someone of his appointment to be. “We believe we should.”

“The Zenins will never allow her to be promoted,” Principal Gakuganji said. You smiled politely at him, though your every word had daggers behind it when you spoke.

“I already received permission from Naobito Zenin, so that’s not a problem. They’re fine with us giving her and Megumi our recommendations,” you said. “You can’t argue with this, sir. You saw them at the event, and you heard about their performances against the special grade curse that hijacked the team challenge. All of them deserve the promotion.”

“Grade 1 sorcerers are top of the line. They are the peak of sorcery, bar the special grades of course. You understand that?” Principal Gakuganji stressed. You and Todo exchanged looks before nodding. “They are meant to be the leaders amongst other sorcerers. Think over that carefully, and then repeat what you just said to me.”

“There’s no need to think about it,” you said.

“Absolutely none,” Todo agreed.

“Maki Zenin,” you began. “Elakshi Sakhare. Tullia Ferraro. Panda.”

“Nobara Kugisaki. Megumi Fushiguro,” Todo added, “and my brother, Itadori Yuji.”

“These are the seven that I, by my name as Y/N L/N —”

“And I, by my name as Aoi Todo —”

“Recommend for grade 1 sorcerer status.”

[heyitsani]

When You Walk the Wire

@jaydick-week Day 1: Reverse Robins

Word Count: 10,776

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: Talk of Jason’s canonical death

Pairing: None

Summary: This hadn't been the plan when he had left under the cover of night with Richard at his side. He had only wanted to save the boy from his father's mission. He hadn't wanted anything more than that. He had lost Todd, he couldn't lose Richard as well.

But apparently, he hadn't lost Todd either and now he finds himself in a situation he's not sure is any better than the one he and Richard had left behind.

Notes: This piece also directly follows A Dream Ripping at the Seams where Damian takes Dick away from Bruce after Jason’s death so he never becomes Robin. It’s pretty crucial to read that one first but you do you.

This piece has not been edited at all. About 6K of this was written today so I’m done. I’ll edit it later.

You can also read this on AO3 here

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“Again,” the weapons master called out to Richard as he pushed himself up from the spot he had landed on the mat, on his back. Damian clenched his jaw at the tone the trainer had taken but he said nothing as Richard nodded and pushed to his feet. Richard said nothing as he picked up the staff he had been training with the past week, expected to be perfect with before the end of next week, and remained quiet as Richard once again took up the ready position.

His green eyes followed the quick movements of the teen, the twists and turns he made as he employed his acrobatic background to get himself through the fight. He watched Richard try over and over and over again, giving his absolute best to try and accomplish his end goal. But Damian knew the issue was likely due to the fact that the staff was taller than he was. If he had been a few inches taller, he would probably be formidable with the weapon. Much like Drake was currently. Damian could easily picture Richard giving the older man a run for his money with his weapon of choice. It was something Damian would love to see.

If it didn’t mean that it would likely only happen if his father knew where Richard was.

The thought chilled him worse than he wanted to admit. Everything he had done over the past couple of years had been to avoid that specific scenario and yet here he was thinking about what it would be like in the future if Drake and Richard were to spar against one another.

“Again,” the harsh voice called out again and Damian decided it was enough.

When he went to take a step to stop things, a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

He didn’t have to look to know his mother was behind him.

She was always there when he was about to do something she would disapprove of. Something that she would say would be grounds for her to renege on their deal. The deal that kept them out of the grasp of his father, or really out of Batman’s grasp.

He shrugged her hand off his shoulder but didn’t take that step like he had been planning. Instead, he forced his eyes to remain on Richard as he was knocked down over and over again. He kept his body relaxed and his hands loose, resisting the urge to tense and clench his hands each time Richard hit the mat with a grunt. Only Richard could stop things, even if Damian wanted to, so very desperately. This situation was the exact reason why he had taken Richard and run from Gotham, from Batman and his undying need for vengeance and justice. But they had still managed to land right where Richard was being trained and Damian was helpless to stop it. But Richard could because Damian had made sure he had that power. He had made sure that his mother, his grandfather had agreed to the terms that he would return to the League and Richard would be trained by them so long as Richard was allowed to say when he had had enough. To put an end to training when it pushed a line he was not comfortable with.

He had yet to do that.

And part of Damian died each time Richard came into their shared rooms bruised and trickling blood. Part of him wished he had the strength, or courage, to grab Richard and run again. But he couldn’t leave the real reason they had ended up under the thumb of Ra’s Al Guhl. He couldn’t leave Jason and he was in no state to leave with them if they ran that night. Or even in a few weeks.

Though there had been some improvement over the last six months in the blood lust of the man who had emerged from the Pit, the Pit Madness still lingered, and Jason struggled daily to push away the urge to slaughter all of them. All of them, except Richard. His mother and grandfather had discussed it over multiple meals and they both thought it was because the boy was young. Damian knew it was because Richard and Jason had been close, closer than Jason had been with anyone outside of Alfred. There was a purity to Richard that even the Madness couldn’t taint or take away. He knew when Jason saw Richard, he saw love and caring.

It had frightened him nearly out of his skin when Jason had emerged from the Pit, growling and glowing green with the magical waters. He had lunged for the first footman he could reach, killing him in seconds before he started trying to make his way through the others coming to restrain him. His grandfather had been content to sit back and watch his new monster kill as many of his soldiers as he could, his mother had been a little more annoyed at the loss at the young man’s hands. But it had all ceased when Jason looked toward the spot he and Richard had been standing. He had drawn his sword, shoved Richard behind his legs, and stood ready to fight off the man so the teen could get away. But Jason had just stopped.

And when they realized it wasn’t because he had recognized Damian, but because he had recognized Richard, everything stopped. Especially Jason. He had just frozen and stared at Richard as if caught in some kind of spell. It had been just what they needed to snap the restraints on him.

It had also been enough to catch Richard’s attention and for him to spring out from behind Damian, hurrying toward the resurrected teen. He had called out to Richard to stop, but the teen had ignored him and instead stopped a few feet in front of Jason.

“Dickie,” the teen had whispered in a hoarse imitation of the voice Damian had remembered, blinking slowly as he rocked forward slightly toward the teen.

Damian had inched closer, trying to remain undetected by Jason but wanting Richard close enough to grab so he could protect him. Richard had just stared at Jason, his shoulders relaxed and his breathing giving nothing away.

“Jay.”

The whole situation had been so strange. His grandfather had mused that he had never seen someone react to the Pit in such a violent way, despite Damian reminding him that they had never put someone who had been so brutally murdered into the waters before. And his mother had commented that it was so strange for Jason to have such a physically and emotionally strong reaction to Richard. Damian had just scowled and told them they better not expect Richard to put his life in danger just because he had some kind of hold over Todd. His grandfather had narrowed his eyes on Damian, likely about to tell him that he had no right to make statements like that while they lived under his protection, but his mother had stepped in and reminded them both that they were all after the same thing.

Todd’s recovery and Richard’s training.

“Again.”

“I actually believe that is enough for today,” his mother’s voice interrupted the lesson. And Damian was so thankful because Richard had asked him to stay to give him pointers on what he was doing wrong, but he had been moments from storming out of that room and never looking back. “Richard, we would like you to go see Jason if you are willing.”

Damian turned narrowed green eyes onto his mother and tried to decipher what exactly she was after right then. They rarely asked the teen to go see Todd, allowing him to go whenever he felt the urge or decide to go when Todd actually asked for him.

“Is he okay?” The teen asked, turning to face Talia with suspicion on his face. Damian was glad that despite being given no reason not to trust her, Richard still didn’t trust her. “Or did he ask for me?”

Talia waved a hand to the weapons master, who bowed and took Richard’s staff before walking to put the weapon away and leave the three of them alone in the room. “Jason is quite well, actually.” Damian felt a jolt of something run through him. Todd was never labeled as ‘well’ by his mother. “He did ask for you, but he’s been very calm and coherent today. We wanted to see what it was he wanted of you, but I’m afraid he wouldn’t tell us.”

Richard slid his eyes from Talia to Damian and Damian held his gaze, silently telling him it was his decision to make. Damian had told him he would never take away Richard’s right to choose what to do. That Richard always had a say. But every once in a while, the teen would seek his guidance and Damian gave his opinion as neutrally as he could. Even if it physically pained him to allow Richard to make choices that he later had to clean and dress to avoid infection. But decisions involving Todd had never led to injury, so he felt no concern allowing the teen to see him.

“Should we go now? Or can I clean up first?”

Talia glanced over his plain black training gear, white tape around his hands to protect his palms and allow him to keep a good grip on the staff, black soft sole shoes to ensure good footing. She shrugged a shoulder. “If you would like to change, that is up to you. Jason is in his rooms for the remainder of the day. But I would like to be present when you go see him.”

Richard seemed to consider the idea for a moment before shrugging himself. “We can go now. Dami can come with, right?”

His mother looked over at him and Damian silently dared her to say he couldn’t join them. She smirked at him before looking back to Richard. “Of course he can, my little snake.” Damian hated that nickname, something his grandfather had called Richard the first week they had been there because Richard had proven he could be silent as death in his movements.

Silent like a snake in the brush, his grandfather had said. His mother had latched onto it and refused to let it go. Richard never seemed to mind, but Damian still hated it. He her demon and Richard her snake. What a pair the two of them made. He wondered what Todd would be to her once she was finished sinking her claws into him.

Damian clasped his hands behind his back as the three of them walked, his mother and Richard side by side in front of him, through the halls toward the wing where Todd’s rooms were. He hadn’t been surprised to find them in the furthest wing from his grandfather and mother’s rooms, but was surprised when they were just a few halls away from where he and Richard resided. It had led to more than a few sleepless nights for Damian when Todd had a particularly bad day and Damian couldn’t relax enough to trust Richard’s safety to the footmen outside their rooms.

“Master Zadkiel tells me that your bow staff training is not going as smoothly as your training with the katana. Is there something about the staff that you find challenging?” His mother questioned as they made their way through the hall. Damian pressed his lips together, holding in the remark about how when he had struggled with a weapon, he was placed on the whipping post until he got the determination to properly train. But Damian would be dead and buried before Richard experienced the same kind of cruelty he had as a child.

Richard shrugged, hands loose at his sides. Damian could see the tension in his shoulders though. “It is much taller than I am. I can’t seem to find the balance between my own height and the height of the staff. I’ll find it soon.” He glanced over at Talia, who kept her eyes forward. “I know what’s expected of me.”

Damian’s hands tightened around each other.

“Indeed,” was all Talia said in response as they came to a stop in front of Todd’s rooms. She gave a firm knock before stepping back to stand next to Damian, leaving Richard closest to the door.

There was a growled, “what?” from the other side of the door and Damian glanced at his mother who didn’t change her expression.

“It’s me,” Richard called out in response. “And Damian and Talia,” he added, likely to avoid an angry Todd at unexpected visitors. The door was promptly pulled open, revealing Todd in his ever-increasing bulk. It had been least surprising thing that the Pit had taken away the lasting results of childhood hunger and malnourishment that Todd had suffered at the hand of his parents and turned him into the physical specimen he would have been without that childhood illness. Damian knew Todd would rival his own physique once he was done growing. They might even be matched in height, Todd possibly passing him in weight due to the broader expanse of his shoulders. Damian looked forward to that day, to see what kind of man Todd would grow into.

“I said I wanted to see Dickie, not you and the Demon.” Todd growled the words at Talia, his eyes narrowed but clear.

Damian stopped himself from speaking, instead he really looked at Todd. The green haze that was always in his gaze since the Pit was missing. His eyes were still slightly greener in color than they had been before his death, but they weren’t glowing. And that was an improvement. His body looked relaxed and his tone wasn’t angry, it was annoyed. It sounded just like Todd always had when Batman had told his partner he was benched.

“Jay, come on,” Richard spoke up, pressing a hand to Jason’s chest and pushing him so they could enter the room. Jason gave a grunt and did as Richard requested, moving away from the door to slump into one of two armchairs near the fire that was roaring in the fireplace. “How was today?” Richard asked, voice light and friendly as he dropped into the other chair.

Damian shut the door behind him but didn’t move further into the room the way his mother did. He watched her walk a circle around the large sitting room before coming to a stop by the fireplace, turning to watch Richard and Todd. He didn’t know what the point of her being here was, but it left him uneasy and on the defensive. Like so much she did these days.

“It was fine,” Todd grumbled, eyes bouncing from Damian to Talia a few times before looking back to Richard. “Tell me about training.”

Richard’s face scrunched a bit and Todd gave a laugh, causing Damian to drop his hands from behind his back to his sides. It was the first time he had heard Todd laugh since before his death. The last time he had heard it had been the day before he had run off to search for his birth mother. The teen had called him and Damian had made some comment about Batman that he couldn’t remember. Todd had laughed in response and Damian had smiled on the other end of the line. It was the last time he and Todd had spoken, really spoken.

“The staff is hard, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Of course you will,” Todd nodded. “Too bad Timmy isn’t here too. He’s the best with the staff. Bet he could get you swinging that thing like a pro.” The air in the room seemed to have vanished at those words. As far as Damian knew, Jason had never mentioned anything regarding home. Regarding Gotham. He had only spoken about things involving Richard and Damian, never mentioning any of the others. It had made him feel like Todd was a stranger they were getting to know for the first time. This comment was the first time Damian felt like the Todd he remembered was there in the room with them.

And the glance he took in Richard’s direction showed the same wonder etched on his face that Damian felt in his chest. It didn’t take a confirmation from anyone else that this was a turning point. Todd was sure to have moments of struggles in the coming weeks, months, and maybe even years, but he would continually improve.

It felt like hope and that felt dangerous.

It became common practice for Todd to join Damian as he watched Richard’s training from that point on. The teachers and doctors began to trust the teen more and more with freedom and Damian found that the presence of his younger adopted brother was more comforting than he had thought before the teen’s death.

“Why did you take him away from Bruce just to bring him here for Ra’s and his assassins to train him?” Todd asked as he and Damian sat under one of the trees on the grounds. Damian frowned, looking at him in confusion. Hadn’t he told Todd what had transpired before he had been placed in the Pit? After his death?

Letting out a huff of air, Damian looked back to Richard who was punching one of the punching bags hanging from the rafters. “Because I didn’t want Father to get him killed the way he got you killed,” Damian admitted. “And I didn’t bring him to Nanda Parbat, we were brought here.”

“Why?”

“Todd, we had this talk already. Do you not remember?”

“Oh,” the teen said, getting a faraway look on his face. “I guess not…”

Damian sighed. He knew this was just another side effect of the pit, but the forgetting was getting less and less so he had been told not to worry. “We were living in one of the villages at the bottom of the mountain. Mother came to us and said if we came to Nanda Parbat, she wouldn’t tell Father where we were. I didn’t trust that we could escape her eye or reach if we ran again, so I agreed.”

“That’s not everything.”

“No,” he shook his head, “it isn’t.” He looked at Todd and waited for the teen to look back to him. “She showed me you, before the Pit. You were…alive but not alive. And she told me of her plan to put you in the Pit. I tried to stop her because you were so angry when you died and the way you died--” Damian cut himself off from saying it when Jason paled a little. “It’s not a good combination for the magic of the Pit.”

Jason snorted. “That’s obvious. I came out a raging monster.”

“You came out angry because life was ripped from you violently,” Damian corrected him. Even though it had been quite the scene, he wouldn’t stand for Todd talking down on himself for something he had no control over. “You weren’t a monster, just under the thrall of the Pit.”  Damian would never forget how easily Todd had taken down the footmen who had trained for years to be that close to Ra’s and Talia, to be trusted enough to be near those waters. He hadn’t even struggled to cut them down and Damian still dreamt about what would have happened if Richard hadn’t been there and Todd hadn’t stopped at the sight of him. “I asked her not to do it, but she was going to do it no matter what. And I just couldn’t not be there to step in if she did something…I don’t even know what I expected her to do. I just wanted to protect you from her grasp because I know how she can be. I know how they all can be.”

There was silence from Todd and Damian frowned, looking back to Richard as he landed a hard kick to the bag before spinning and landing another. His form was becoming so much better as he began to trust himself and his natural talents. Since Ra’s had installed the gymnastics equipment in the training hall for him to get back to his roots. It had been an almost instant change. Damian had never seen someone improve so quickly before. All because his grandfather had shown a kindness.

“But why is he training?”

“To become stronger.” Damian parroted his mother’s words, words heavy with the anger they made him feel. “We made an agreement. Nothing would happen to you without my knowledge and Richard would train, but with the caveat that if he said enough then it would stop.”

“Talia wants to send us to the All Caste.” Damian sighed. He knew this. His mother had been mentioning it to him for weeks and Damian had denied her each and every time. He might not have authority over what happened with Todd the same way he did with Richard, but he still made his disagreement known. He also knew that if Todd was sent there without Richard, the young teen would follow with or without Damian’s blessing. “Damian?”

“I know what she wishes. I am the reason it hasn’t happened yet.”

“But they’re good.” Damian huffed. “Aren’t they?”

Turning to look at the teen, Damian frowned. “They stand on the right side, yes. But I have no power there. I cannot step in if something happens that I do not approve of. Richard will no longer have the small amount of control he has now. You would be completely at their mercy.”

“But training with them would likely be better than training with your grandfather’s goons.”

“Perhaps.”

Todd didn’t say anything further, but Damian could tell there was something else he desperately needed to get out. The longer they went on in the heavy silence the more it grated on Damian’s nerves. Though it had been over half a year since Todd had emerged from the Pit, Damian still found himself struggling with this version of the teen. This was obviously not the same person who had gone into the grave, Damian had known that would be the case. But he didn’t know this version. He didn’t know what to expect, wasn’t good with just letting things happen as they were meant to. He watched Richard just open his arms and accept the elder just as he was and acted as though no time had passed between them, but Damian just couldn’t seem to manage that.  

“What is it, Todd?” He asked, forcing himself to keep his voice even and not reveal his irritation.

Jason shrugged. “Maybe they would negotiate with you,” he said quietly. Damian looked at him, brows merging. “They’re not going to negotiate with someone like Talia al Ghul, right?” Damian nodded. “Well, they’d likely negotiate with someone like Batman’s blood born son.”

Damian scowled at that title, hating having it thrown back at him the same way he had thrown it at Tim when the other man had joined the family. He had worn it as a title to be proud of. Now he hid that fact from anyone who might let it get back to Batman just where Damian had found himself after over two years of hiding.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you want to go to the Chamber or All.”

“I don’t trust your mother with Dick. I trust your grandfather less with both of you.” His lips parted at the words, surprised that the teen concerned himself over anything to do with Damian. “You can hold your own against your mother, but Ra’s…” Todd let out a harsh breath through his nose. The teen shook his head and looked out toward where Richard had begun unwrapping his knuckles, breaths heaving from the workout. “He’ll ruin him. More than Bruce ever would have.”

Green eyes turned from the older teen to the younger one Damian had sacrificed everything in order to protect. Every day in the village he had been vigilant in order to keep Richard safe. He had done everything he could to make sure they flew under the radar. He had tried to keep both of them invisible and yet they had been found by Drake and then by his mother and grandfather. He had failed to protect Richard and in a moment of weakness for his family, he had given in to her demands in order to try and protect Todd too.

The thought of sending Todd and Richard to the Chamber of All to train with Ducra frightened him because it was a variable he, yet again, didn’t know. He had been honest when he told Todd he couldn’t control what happened if they went to the Caste. He had no influence and would be completely at their mercy. Todd and Richard could suffer because of that and Damian didn’t know what he would do if they were harmed in any way and he was powerless to do anything.

“I could,” he started, frowning as the idea formed, “go to the Chamber of All and see if they would grant me certain authority over your training. If going there is something you are absolutely certain you want.” He looked at Todd and found the teen watching him. Todd didn’t speak, only gave a firm nod and Damian returned it. “I’ll make the arrangements. I’ll have to go alone and while I am gone, I would like Richard to be released to your protection. Todd,” he clenched his jaw, “Jason, trusting him to anyone is a lot to ask of me after these years. You are the only person I will do that with. Do you understand?”

“I do. With my life, Damian. For him? Always.”

Damian wasn’t surprised to see the green glow ignite around Jason’s eyes

Damian stepped out of the temple and looked around at the darkening sky, breathing in the spicy scents all around him. He had been pleasantly surprised that he actually liked the environment of the Chamber of All. He liked the members of the Caste and though Ducra was a hardass, he liked her as well. He could see both Jason and Richard thriving in their training under the members here. And that worried him.

He had expressed his concerns with Ducra and why he had not allowed his mother to bring the two teens to them earlier and the woman had waved him off. She had been so dismissive of his worries that both would be taken advantage of and that Richard especially would be turned into a weapon he should not be. He admitted all his concerns and the woman had told him that wasn’t what they did. They trained individuals to be their very best, but they did not corrupt the way the League and his grandfather did. That, he couldn’t argue with.

So, he had agreed to bring the two to train under Ducra and out from under the thumb of his grandfather and mother.

Beep.

Damian frowned, reaching into his pocket to grab the phone he had with him always after Drake had given it to him the day he had shown up at Amala’s home in the village at the base of the mountain where Nanda Parbat sat. The angry red blinking informed him there was a message on the phone.

“Damian! Where the hell are you?! Pick up the damn phone!” Damian glared at the phone before opening the missed calls and noticed that he had missed 17 calls from the other man. Quickly flipping through the voice messages, he opened the most recent and listened. “Bruce is headed to Nanda Parbat! I’m with him, but damnit get out of there! He found out about Jason and is going to talk to Talia and Ra’s about it. Damnit Damian,” the man growled before the message clicked off yet again.

Damian felt frozen.

This was the nightmare he never could manage to prepare for. He had known it was just a matter of time before his father made his way to Nanda Parbat, but how could he prepare for something he didn’t know when it would happen? Or even how? And now he was hours away and who knew how close they had been when Drake had left that message. The time stamp said it was three hours prior, but without their location at the time of the call he had no way of knowing.

“Demon Heir,” an aged voice said behind him. Turning he found Durca standing there at the entrance of the temple. “I have way to bid you passage quickly. Seems you have need.”

Damian didn’t say anything about eavesdropping busybodies and instead nodded and stepped closer to her as she waved him over. He followed her back into the temple and tried not give into the panic that was filling his chest. He took even, measured breaths to keep himself under wraps as he watched Durca chant something with closed eyes, hands outstretched. And in a respectful amazement, Damian watched as a simmering wall appeared before her.

“Where-” He took a step forward and stared at the portal, stunned. He had read about this kind of magic but had never witnessed it. This was so far beyond what he had expected. “Where will it drop me?”

“Where you desire it to. Focus on that location and walk forward. Do not falter, Demon Heir.”

Damian’s jaw clenched and he gave the woman a nod. “I owe you.” The woman waved him off before giving the portal a pointed look. Damian stared at her for a moment longer than he had to spare, but then was stepping into the portal. The cool, wet feeling that rushed over him was a surprise and stole the breath out of him. The air around him felt like a misty winter morning at the peak of the Himalayas and what surrounded him reminded him an awful lot like an old television set unable to get a clear picture. It made his head fuzzy, the strange change from being on the actual Himalayas to being in this poor reception of them. And for a moment he lost the focus on his rooms in Nanda Parbat and his footing slipped, but before he could fall into an unknown, he clenched his fists and pictured the room he had grown up in and now shared with Richard.

“Dami!”

He fell to the floor, panting as the world came back to him. He hadn’t noticed the complete vacuum of sound in the portal until Richard’s voice called to him. The loud snap of a log on the fire made him flinch as he remained hands and knees pressed to the floor; head bowed as he tried to catch his breath. There was another person in the room with Richard and it forced him to raise his head, eyes locking on Jason’s form with sword drawn.

Damian’s nod had the teen sheathing the sword as Richard knelt next to him and helped him up.

“What happened?” Richard asked, voice edging panic. “One minute it was just Jay and I, the next you were on the floor. How did you get here?”

“Ducra,” he breathed, looking between Richard and Jason. “I’ll explain later. Get you bag.” He sent a look to Jason that made the teen’s features darken and rush from the room.

“Wait!” Richard called out to him, but Jason didn’t look back and simply did as Damian had told. “Dami, what is happening?”

Pushing up to his feet, Damian glanced around before moving to the bed and pushing it aside weakly. The trip through the portal had seemed to sap him of his energy and he didn’t have time to think about what that could mean if he had to face his father and Drake right then. Instead, he focused on prying up the floorboard he had stashed go-bags under for him and Richard. He tossed the young teen his bag before he shouldered his own. Quickly, he moved the floorboard and bed back into place before looking over Richard and said a silent thanks to whatever god was listening that the teen already had proper attire and shoes on.

“Come,” he instructed Richard to follow him as he went to the door. He paused only for a moment to grab both of their swords, slipping his own over his head and handing Richard his own. He waited as the teen pulled his on, but his eye caught something shimmering in the background. In the exact spot he had landed in the room not long before this moment.

The portal was still active.

A knock on the door alerted them that Jason had returned, and a plan formed in Damian’s mind as he considered the decision he was being faced with. “We have to go, I already heard the plane was preparing to land,” Jason said as he slipped inside.

Damian clenched his jaw. “Yes, you have to go. Both of you, through the portal.”

“What do you mean by that? What do you mean the both of us? What about you, Dami?” Richard asked, moving to stand right in front of him, tiny hand gripping the cloth of his shirt. Instead of looking down at him, Damian looked to Jason. And he found the teen standing there with a cool resolve on his face. He understood exactly what Damian was going to do. He understood what Damian was going to ask of him. And he accepted it. “Jay?”

“With my life,” Jason promised, fist pressed over his chest as he gave a deep bow. “But how do I know where this will take us?”

“Think about the Chamber of All, think of nothing else.” Jason looked at the shimmer in the air of the center of the room before looking back to Damian and nodding. Damian stared at him for a moment before blinking and looking down at Richard, who looked almost panicked. “You have to go with Jason, Richard. I can distract Father long enough for you two to go to the Chamber of All. Ducra will grant you sanctuary and Father will never be able to find you.”

“But what about you?” Richard’s voice was small, his face revealing the emotions swirling around inside him as if Damian were reading them in a book. “I won’t leave you.”

Damian shook his head and looked at the portal again. “You have to, Richard. I need to know you are safe and I can trust Jason to do that.” Richard’s hands tightened and Damian felt the material of his shirt strain. “I will come to you, once it is safe. I will come to you.” He looked back down at the teen. “But I need you to be safe. And I need you away from here. We will never make it off the mountain without him knowing. Not even with Drake’s assistance. I won’t let him take you from me.” He would have been more careful about the desperation that seeped into his tone with anyone other than Richard around, but he knew it would just be fuel for Jason to keep him safe.

And it seemed to be enough for Richard to really understand because he released Damian’s shirt before wrapping his arms around the older man tightly. Damian held onto him just as tightly for a moment before releasing him and looked back to Jason.

“Chamber of All. Do not think of anything else and do not release his hand.”

Jason gave a nod.

“I will send word when I can.” He pressed the phone Drake had given him into Jason’s hand. Another nod. “Keep each other safe.”

“Always,” Jason promised, and Richard echoed the sentiment.

And Damian believed it. So he took a step back and watched as Jason reached out for Richard’s hand, who was now looking at Damian from over his shoulder as their hands clasped tightly to the other. He gave Richard a small smile, trying to reassure him that everything would be okay. And Damian felt something ease slightly in his chest at the smile he received in return just as the pair of them stepped into the shimmering wall and vanished from his sight.

He stood there for a moment, wondering if he should just follow them through, before the shimmer seemed to fade from sight and Damian was left standing there alone. He took one more moment of deep breathing before he burst into action.

Quickly, he stripped out of his daily wear and pulled on the uniform of the Demon Heir that his mother had proudly gifted him when he and Richard had come to stay in his rooms. He pulled each strap of fabric into place before he tugged on the armor and the coat. He strapped his sword back on his back and made sure everything was in place.

He was just finishing stepping into his boots when a firm knock sounded on his door.

“Enter,” he called out, voice flat. He wasn’t surprised when his mother walked into the room with two guards flanking her. He stood tall, single eyebrow raised as he watched her look around for Richard.

“How did you know to hide him away?”

“You aren’t the only one with sources, Mother,” he told her. “I got them both out.”

Fury lit her features and Damian knew it was the right choice to send Jason away. She had planned to use Jason to rile Batman up and Damian had taken that chip out of her bag of tricks. “You had no right.”

“I had every right,” he responded. His voice went low, cold. His eyes narrowed on her as she stalked forward and stood in front of him. “They are mine to protect. I will never let you or him ruin them. They aren’t yours anymore.”

“We’ll see about that.” She paused, the fury bleeding away to the familiar cold demeanor he was used to. “At least you had enough sense to dress accordingly. Let us go greet your father.” She turned and headed back out of his room, the two guards waiting for him to follow before they left as well.

He remained silent as he walked a step behind his mother through the halls of the fortress. There were more footmen stationed here and there with the presence of Batman, but the halls were deserted otherwise. He took the walk to fortify himself against what he was about to face. He hadn’t seen his father since before he and Richard had left. He had barely spoken to Drake over the time from when the other man had found them and now. He knew it would be a shock to his system as much as it would be to theirs. But he had spent his childhood training to shut that side down. A few years with Richard had done his empathy good, but he was still the product of his childhood.

So he put up his walls and closed down the wells of emotions he had allowed to open in the presence of his son.

He became the Demon Heir.

“Ah Grandson,” his grandfather greeted from his chair in the room where he met all the guests that were not attacked the instant they came to Nanda Parbat. “I see you had the foresight to protect yours.” Damian said nothing as he stopped to stand in front of the man, looking up at him from the bottom of the dais. “I wish I could say I was surprised, but alas I am not. You will stand to my left,” he gestured to the left side of the throne.

The enforcers side.

He looked at his mother, who looked at her father with narrowed eyes, before he ascended the stairs and took up his spot. He could play the part. He could do this if it meant keeping Richard and Jason safe. He would do this because he would do anything to ensure their survival.

“How long have you planned this?” His grandfather quested when he came to a stop and turned to face the double doors that would eventually open to reveal their guests. “From the beginning.”

“I will always be prepared to keep them safe.”

“From me or him, I wonder.”

Damian blinked but didn’t outwardly show his answer. “Why not both?”

“Damian,” his mother hissed. He turned and looked at her over his grandfather’s head, standing to the right of the man. He didn’t reveal anything on his face but he let his eyes burn as he looked into hers.

He didn’t get the chance to say anything more as the sound of the large stone doors were pushed open and a group of footmen entered, followed by a familiar figured dressed in black and another in red and gold. There was a third figure behind them, a black suit Damian didn’t recognize, that drew his attention more than the visceral reaction Batman was having at the sight of Damian standing there.

“Damian!” His father shouted, drawing his eyes from the stranger to the man in the Batman suit.

“Father,” he said flatly. Batman stopped short and looked over at Red Robin, who stood a step behind and was staring at Damian.

Ra’s chose that moment to laugh and draw Batman’s gaze back to the front of the room. “Are the pieces falling into place, Detective?” Damian’s jaw clenched at the idea of his father realizing that Drake had known about them being here. But instead of focusing on that, his gaze went back to the stranger in the bat suit behind the two men. It looked similar to his father’s but instead of the cowl, the stranger was completely covered. If not for their distinct figure, he wouldn’t have known if the person was male or female. Or neither.

But he did know this stranger was dangerous.

The way they moved reminded him so much of a shadow and he wondered if his father had intentionally found someone who could take over his oldest child’s persona literally. They didn’t seemed to walk with the same force as their companions, but instead tip toed almost on air. No one else seemed to pay attention to them as they drifted back and stood in the darkness of the room, a place where the light could never touch.

“Where is my son?” Batman growled, eyes narrowed in his direction. Damian looked from the shadow to his father and stared. “Where is he?”

“And which son is it you refer to, Detective? The one stolen by death or stolen by blood?” Ra’s seemed entirely too amused by the situation. And Damian let him. He allowed his father’s temper to simmer and his grandfather to taunt him. Because his focus was going back to the shadow lurking in the room. The shadow that was slowly moving to slip out of the room.

“You will never find them here,” he called out at last, eyes on the shadow of a person and not on his Father. The stranger stopped and though Damian couldn’t see their eyes, he could tell they were looking right at him. So he stared back for a moment before looking at his father with narrowed eyes. “You will never find them.”

He was somewhat surprised to see the shadow remain where they were and not continue their exit from the room. Either this person knew him and knew he had no reason to lie, or they were good at reading people and could tell he was being honest. Whatever the reason, he allowed his focus to turn back to his father and brother.

“He was not yours to take,” his father growled, and Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But instead, he kept his face blank and said nothing. “Give them both to me now or I will tear this place apart to find them.”

Damian tilted his head. “You could try,” he countered. “And you would fail.”

“I would do more damage than you would want to incur.”

“You will fail because our son,” his mother finally spoke up, “sent them both away to a place only he is aware of.” She cut a look to Damian that he saw out of the corner of his eye but didn’t bother glancing over at her. He kept his gaze on his father and Drake, the latter who seemed to relax just slightly at the revelation. “So perhaps your latest addition of Lady Shiva’s daughter could join us up here instead of lurking in our shadows.”

That caused Damian to blink. He had heard whispers of this girl, of this wraith. Taught to be silent as the darkness that was always inevitable. She was skilled and formidable. Someone he would not want to go one-on-one with because he knew he would lose. He was good, had been trained by some of the best, but she was better.

Had Drake trusted her with Damian’s secret? Did she know why he had taken Richard in the dark of the night and never looked back? Did she understand?

Looking to brother, Damian stared at the white lenses of his mask and wished he could speak to the man alone. Even for just a moment. But Drake had his part to play and Damian would not risk Batman knowing of his partner’s involvement in Damian’s actions.

“Damian, son,” his father pleaded.

But Damian shook his head. “I will die before I let you near either of them ever again.”

“They are my sons!”

“And you are responsible for one of them dying at the hands of a madman who should have been put down like a rabid dog long ago,” he finally allowed his anger to bleed into his voice. He took a step forward and looked down at Batman from the top of the dais, hoping his presence was as intimidating as most always told him it was. “You train children to be soldiers and then replace them when they are too old to be the distraction you would want them to be. You send us to our deaths with little consideration for the other people in our lives and what it would mean for them to be left behind. I watched, too often, how you put Drake in danger to keep yourself out of it. I watched as we buried Todd and you looked to Richard to see if he would be a worthy replacement. I would die a thousand deaths before I allowed you anywhere near him.”

Damian descended the steps and came to a stop in front of his father, eye to eye and nose to nose. “He is my son. He will never be yours again.” His father let out a sharp breath from his nose and Damian just let his anger guide his actions. “I saw the mindless teen that Todd was before he was put in the waters. I watched as Todd was lowered into the Lazarus Pit and come out blind with rage and bloodlust. I was here when he killed man after man only to stop the moment he saw Richard. I was here every step of the way as he worked through that haze. I. Was. Here.” He narrowed his eyes on his father and took satisfaction as the man clenched his jaw. “You weren’t even there when he died. Why should you be here when he’s alive again?”

“He is mine,” Batman whispered, and Damian shook his head.

“No,” Damian backed up a step. “No. Neither of them will ever be yours ever again.”

He stood there, staring at his father and waiting for the man’s next move. He let his anger burn through his veins and knew that if it came down to a fight, it would be difficult but he could win against his father. He could win against Drake. He would not win against the stranger, but he had no quarrel with her, so he hoped she kept her distance. A fight is not how he wanted this to end, but to protect those two teens he would do whatever he had to.

He would always do whatever he had to.

“B,” Drake finally spoke up. “They aren’t here, there’s no reason for them to lie about that. Let’s just go.” But Batman was shaking his head and Damian was taking another step back, hand lifting to grip the sword strapped to his back. “Do you really want to fight your own son?” The voice of reason. But Damian knew how his father could be and even Drake could not always pull him back.

“He’s the Demon Heir, he is no son of mine.” The words stung but Damian was glad he had fortified himself before he saw his father. He had prepared for this situation to happen one day. He had been prepared to be cast aside by the man whose blood ran through his veins.

Ra’s’ laugh sounded, and Damian removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. “You are so blinded to the truth, Detective.”

“How am I blinded? Damian is here with you. He brought my son he stole away and brought him here. I’m not stupid enough to think you would allow them shelter without something in return. So what did you promise?” Batman looked to Damian again. “Did you promise to be his heir again? Did you give him Dick? Did you sell your soul to keep him safe from me?”

Damian looked at Drake, who had his hand on Batman’s shoulder and felt the request to remain silent. To just let the other man take care of it. To let his grandfather and mother take care of it. Silent was one thing he could do. Glancing back to his grandfather, who looked more amused than anything, and his mother, who looked bored, he let the chips fall where they pleased. He could bide his time and step in only where he was needed.

“My grandson is not my heir. He has not come here to take his birth right,” Ra’s explained. Damian pressed his lips together. “We found him and his young prodigy at the base of our mountain, living as commoners,” the word was said with such disgust that Damian felt his lip curl a bit. They had not lived in luxury, but they had been safe and happy. “We were content to let them remain as long as they did not hinder us any. Then Talia stumbled across the strangest thing. She found a familiar face wandering around the streets of Gotham. But he did not recognize anyone or anything. He said nothing, just followed basic instructions. So she brought him here and presented him to me.

“It was another six months before we finally decided to call upon my grandson in hopes that seeing him would bring forth the teen he once was,” Ra’s continued. Damian listened as he told about how Jason never reacted to anything until he was placed into the Pit and came out raging. Having experienced it in person, he let his grandfather’s words fade out. He didn’t want to know the embellishments the man put on the story to make it see more horrific or as though he had done a great charity by doing that to Jason.

Damian knew there had been a selfish reason. There was always a selfish one when it came to his grandfather and mother. He knew them well enough to know they always did things for their own benefit and never out of the kindness of their hearts.

“Why is Damian still here then?”

“Because I tried to stop them from putting Jason in the Pit,” Damian snapped back into the conversation. “But they were going to do it with or without me present. So I made a deal. I would remain in Nanda Parbat as long as Jason did. I would allow them to protect Richard and myself from your ever watchful eye and in return I would watch over Jason and Richard would train under my old masters.”

Batman’s face gave nothing away but Damian didn’t need to see it to know what was coming. “You are no better than what you accuse me of,” the words were cold, void of all emotion. “You would subject him to what you had endured?”

“No,” Damian shook his head. “No. I made sure Richard had a voice here. He made the decision. I told him what was offered and he chose to be near Jason. He had the facts laid out before him and he made his own decision. Just as I did before we left Gotham, I let him decide based on the facts.”

“And what facts were those?”

“That I had my childhood stolen by both my parents. That Drake tried so hard to please you that he has lost the boy he was when he first figured out you were Batman. That Jason died because he needed Bruce Wayne but got Batman instead. Those are the facts that I presented.” He knew his father couldn’t deny the truth in what he had said. There was no lie there.

“You can’t tell me that you didn’t sway him in leaving,” his father said. “He was happy in Gotham.”

With brows furrowed, Damian looked to Drake before looking back to his father. “Happy? He had just lost a brother! Jason had been in the ground for just a few months before you were looking to train him to replace the sibling he had been closest to. Do you have any idea how many nights I would find him crying in his room when I got home from patrol? Do you have any idea what his teachers were saying at the academy about his lack of focus and possible depression?”

Batman looked from Damian to Drake and then back again.

“You were so blinded by your own issues that you didn’t pause for a moment to see that you weren’t the only person who had lost Jason.” Damian took a deep breath and control the anger rising up in him again. This fight wasn’t worth it. Not anymore. “He’s not yours anymore, Father. If he ever was. He was given a choice and he made it. I simply stood behind him, ready to catch him if he stumbled.”

Silence fell over the group of them and Damian silently begged his father to understand. To look past his hurt pride and anger to see that he had made mistakes. That he couldn’t be allowed to continue the cycle of children being hurt. And Damian got it, he understood that Batman was what Bruce Wayne had needed in order to deal with the loss of his parents. It had been exactly what Bruce had needed. But they weren’t him. None of them were. And none of them needed their vigilante personas the way he did. Richard didn’t need one at all. And Damian hoped that Jason wouldn’t need one any longer either.

“B,” Drake tried again, voice soft.

“Where did you send them?”

“I won’t ever tell you. And the people they are with will protect them in ways that I never could.”

“And if they decide, one day, they want to return to Gotham?”

Damian swallowed. “Then I will follow them home again. But it will be their decision. Not mine. And never yours.”

He waited, for what he wasn’t sure. But he waited for his father to do or say something in return. He waited for the man to try and make another argument in his favor, but it never came. Instead he turned, cape flaring around him, and stormed back the way he came. The stranger followed him without a backward glance, but Drake remained in his spot.

Without permission from his mother or grandfather, Damian walked over to the other man. He stopped a foot away and watched Drake take a deep breath before reaching out and placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Damian offered, giving a small smile. “I appreciate the warning. I almost didn’t get it in time. But they are safe because of you.”

“No,” Drake shook his head. “They’re safe because of you.” He paused and looked past Damian to where his grandfather and mother remained. “Are you?”

“I am.”

Drake nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze before dropping it. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact.”

Damian said nothing as Drake turned and followed the path the other two had taken. He watched the doorway until the last of Drake’s red and gold had vanished from view before turning to look at his grandfather and mother.

“Now, where did you send them?” Ra’s asked, eyebrow raised.

Damian looked over to his mother and raised both his brows. He was curious if she would figure it out. She had known where he had gone earlier in the day. She had known what he had wanted to accomplish with the visit to Ducra. The moment she realized, Damian saw it in her eyes.

“Well played, Damian.” Was all she said.

Ra’s looked between them with narrowed eyes and Damian blinked slowly. “I sent them exactly where Mother has been wanting to send them.” There was a pause before understanding. “The All Caste agreed to my terms earlier and when I received the messages from Red Robin regarding Batman coming here, Ducra allowed me to portal to my rooms. I simply had the two of them walk back through it before it vanished.”

He fell silent as his grandfather considered his words and actions. He knew the man would likely be proud of his cunning, but irritated that he had done it without asking permission. Ra’s likely thought of Jason as his personal property and Damian had stolen from him. But in Damian’s mind, Jason was his just as much as Richard was. Perhaps not in the same respect, but his to protect.

“And you are meant to follow now? Or will you stay here and put that cunning into good use as my heir once again?”

Damian looked to his mother again before going back to his grandfather. “I will never be your heir. I will never be a pawn in yours or my father’s plots and plans ever again.”

“Then your wards will no longer be under my protection.”

“So be it.” Something darkened in his grandfather’s features and Damian straightened a bit more.

By the time Damian made it out of Nanda Parbat and down to the village where his mother had approached him before everything, he bleeding and only slightly bruised. With a gentle knock, he kept his hood pulled down over his brow and waited for the familiar face to answer the door. The moment Amala recognized him, she was pulling him into the shelter of her small house and shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Where is he? What happened to you?” She spoke quickly as she pulled his hood down and looked over the trail of blood down the side of his face from a cut near his brow.

Damian waved off her hands as she tried to examine him for more injuries and slumped into a chair at the table. “I need to get a message out but I do not know who to trust.”

Amala frowned deeply and looked at him, a now wet towel in hand to wipe away the blood on his face. “You trust me. That is who you trust.”

“I do, Amala. That is why I’m here. But I need to find someone who can transport me to somewhere very secret.” He winced as she pressed the cloth to his cut and then held it as she gestured for him to do. He watched her move about the room, grabbing a paper and a pen.

“You write what you need. I will get someone to send the fire message.” Damian thought about it. Fire messages were sent to individuals but he didn’t know if one could get through the wards at the Chamber of All. It was worth a try.

So he took the paper and scribbled on it in French. He told Richard to have Ducra open a portal for him to Amala’s home and to come to him. He stared at the note for a moment before folding it and handing it back to Amala.

“For Richard.” She gave a bow of her head and hurried out of her house, leaving Damian in the silence. He sat there for a moment, taking mental stock of his physical condition before deeming the bruises minimal and no broken bones. The footmen had been ordered to attack but none of them had gone as hard as they could have. He knew that his grandfather had only done it because Damian’s refusal was a hit to his pride and he couldn’t allow it to go unpunished. But he could have easily ordered Damian’s capture and Damian could have tried to fight his way out, but he wouldn’t likely have succeeded. He was strong, but he was only one man. But instead of that route, his grandfather had left him with a headache and some bruises.

Letting the hand holding the towel fall into his lap, Damian slouched forward and closed his eyes. He was tired. Emotionally and physically. And it was times like these that he missed Alfred. He missed the comfort foods he would make for Damian before sending up to bed to rest. He missed being cared for instead of always providing the care. He missed Jon. Hell, he even missed his father. Not Batman, never Batman. But there were memories of Bruce Wayne from his childhood that were fond memories. When they weren’t fighting crime. When they were family.

“Dami!” Looking up, Damian felt a heaviness ease at the sight of Richard and Jason storming through the portal that now sat in the middle of Amala’s home. “What happened? You’re bleeding!” The teen rushed forward and grabbed at Damian’s head, turning it to look at the cut.

“It is nothing,” Damian waved it off. “Grandfather was insulted in his home by my actions and had to do something. It’s a fraction of what he would have done to anyone else.”

Jason stared at him, eyes hard but knowing. “What of Bruce?”

Damian stared back at him for a moment. “I don’t think he’s given up, but he’s at least aware now. I made it very clear that neither of you were his to take.” He looked from Jason to Richard, who had begun chewing on his lip. “You’re mine. I will protect you from any threat, including him. Both of you,” he looked back to Jason.

“I don’t need your protection,” Jason scoffed, but Damian could see he appreciated it. He saw it in his eyes and the hard swallow of his throat. “Do Ra’s and Talia know where we went?”

Damian gave a nod. “After Father had left, I allowed them to figure it out. It was what Mother had wanted anyway. Perhaps not the way she had wanted, but that is not our problem. We’ll be safe there.”

Glancing toward the door when it opened, Damian gave Amala a nod of thanks when she took in Jason and Richard standing in front of him and the shimmering portal in the middle of her home. Richard wasted no time in rushing over to her and embracing her. They spoke in low tones and Damian watched for a moment before looking back to Jason.

“How bad are you hurt?”

“Just a few bruises. It really was the least harm he could have inflicted. It was a mercy and I am certain he will not allow me to forget it.” Jason’s face darkened and Damian didn’t bother to hide the warning look. They were among civilians. It took a few deep breaths, but Jason got it under control before Richard walked over with Amala to introduce her to Jason.

He watched the three of them and sighed, allowing himself to feel an ounce of relief at the fact that they were still together despite the earlier events. It was all he could have hoped for. It was better than he had ever allowed himself to hope for.

And when Richard glanced over at him from his spot with Amala and Jason, Damian returned the smile the teen sent his way.

[ahsokathegray]

I Bleed the Same || Nine

Pairing: Rexsoka

Summary: Ahsoka and Rex try and make sense of who and what they are after Order 66 occurs. Figuring out what to do with themselves, they remain together for a period of time before parting in their own directions.

Warnings: slow burn, mentions of Order 66, ptsd, injury, death, and future nsfw situations

Word Count: 3,157

A/N: please forgive me for a few months away from starting back with this fic after a two year hiatus. I got a job right out of college and had to move and adjust so life happened. but here I am, able to continue my beloved fic now. this chapter is long! thank you totj for providing me with more canon to build off of!

read on ao3! / series masterlist

When she awoke, there was only a dull throb left in her side. She’d withstood many a battle with injuries that were far worse off than this. Before raising her head up, she placed a firm hand against the affected area. From her sleeper she could see Rex’s hands clasped together under his head for support. 

It had to be time now.

Moments later, Rex shifted and reached out to feel for his helmet, then placed his hands on the edge of the sleeper and pulled his full weight upwards. 

He cleared his throat, “Local time’s about four in the morning. The city should be in a deep sleep still; we need to get a move on. I’m sure there’s a few folk who like to beat the bird and the worm.” Rex’s shoulders squared as he clicked his bucket into place.

She stepped out of her own hole in the floor and held onto the wall to regain balance. The walker being on its side was a bit disorienting. 

“We know what we’re looking for. We have to be quick and unseen,” she pressed emphasis on the latter, “Escaping once was enough, getting caught is not an option.”

Rex admired her newfound sense of self. Her determination and gall restored. Whether that was due to time, bacta, or sleep he did not know. It didn’t matter.

Ahsoka switched off the only small light they’d gotten to work and their eyes began adjusting to the dark. Small bits of the night sky peeked through minuscule holes in the old walker. She grabbed the gray cloak she’d draped over one of the seats and placed it over herself. 

The blood that had gotten on it in the midst of their crash had come out pretty well. 

Blood drew attention.

She spun around to face him, “You did add a cloak to the list, right? You’ll need one.”

Already ahead of her, Rex confirmed that he indeed had and took to reading aloud the rest of the list. Six things. They could do this.

Rex watched as she lifted the hood over top her montrals, making sure her more recognizable features were hidden. He looked down at his own attire. White and blue clone armor. Getting outside and mucking it up in the sediment should camouflage it enough. It was dark out, but anything helped.

R7 chirped questioningly at the pair, awaiting his own set orders. 

The young woman bent down to meet him and placed a loving hand on top of him, “R7 we need you to tend to the ship. Make sure it’s prepared to receive the parts so that we can go ahead and get it out of the way. Do you think you can do that for us?”

The colorful droid beeped enthusiastically at Ahsoka and made way for where their Y-wing was concealed. 

Light peered down at them as they stepped out from their walker. Jabiim was drizzling and the sea was angry in the distance; lightning striking it as the sky rumbled. 

The Captain stood behind her with one eyebrow perched higher up on his face. “He doesn’t need to be sitting idle near where we’re staying. If someone comes out here they’ll be drawn away from the walker,” she reasoned.

She never ceased to amaze him. Once upon a time, he was the one teaching her things. Now, here she was spitting back to him the very strategy he’d taught her. It was second nature now. He’d never forget the first lesson he gave to her as a newly anointed padawan: Experience outranks everything. Rex’s heart swelled. It had done just that. Experience, Skywalker’s tests for her against the clones, her time away from the Order. All of that experience gave her what she needed to survive. He hated that it ever had to be put to the test.

But he also couldn’t be more proud.

Rex went back behind them to make sure and cover any evidence that a Jedi and clone defect were calling this walker ‘home’. If someone were to come through, it would appear as if two regular, irrelevant individuals made quick shelter and left. Keeping her safe was his top priority. Keeping himself detached from the trauma and the tragedy that had just befallen him shouldn’t be his second.

“Ready?”

Ahsoka looked up at him under the cover of her hood, searching for him through his helmet.

“Let’s do this.”

With deecees in hand, he kept on her heels, flanking her in case he needed to start blasting away in either direction. Ahsoka led the way, following the Captain’s navigation. The city he’d found was only about six klicks to the west. They’d be in and out before anyone was the wiser.

~~~

They were right. The town was asleep. Ahsoka couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt rise up like bile in her throat. They’d be stealing from these poor people. She had to quell that feeling, as following through with this was necessary to their survival. What they needed wasn’t much. The people who woke up as robbery victims would recover from their losses of the night.

Nearing up on the edge of town, the pair paid closer attention to where they took their steps. One wrong move and the entire operation could go south. 

Ahsoka hopped over the barrier fence first, with Rex coming in right behind her. They found themselves in, what appeared to be, the middle of town; not quite in the residential area but not quite where the shops were. 

Looking over his shoulder so frequently would’ve given him whiplash on any regular mission. Sure, he was used to having to move quickly to avoid the infinite onslaught of clankers, but he figured he more so feared man now. And who knows what else. 

All they knew was that they knew nothing. What would become of the droid army? The Separatists?

But that was not the mission at hand. 

The young Togruta in front of him had them crouched behind some waste bins. She motioned to the left with hand signals and they took off to take cover by a bunch of speeders in a scrap heap. Her eyes widened and found his, despite not being able to see them. She mouthed what they both knew: “Mechanic shop”.

The ship parts that they needed were bound to be inside. Everything outside was long rusted over. The pair made a beeline for the shop’s back door.

Rex stood guard above her as she knelt into the mud. Ahsoka carefully took the covering off of a nearby control panel, placing it safely in her lap. A tiny red light in the upper right corner was blinking slowly. The goal was to get it to turn off. Deft fingers shuffled through a mess of different colored wires, trying to find the right one, untangling their state of disarray.

It was clear that whoever had installed the system did so haphazardly.

From the time she was assigned to Skywalker, Rex and his men had taught her how to disarm explosives. Disarming a security system was child’s play. She spotted the thin, yellow wire she was looking for and brought it up to her mouth, past her lips, and used her teeth to bite clean through it. The red light ceased its blinking. 

There. 

That was a first for Rex. Typically, her shorter lightsaber would’ve taken the job of snapping a wire in two, but she’d left them on that moon. This… 

Heat crept up his neck and nestled into his cheeks.

Ahsoka replaced the panel covering and gave him a curt nod, to which he returned. His beating chest was reverberating in his eardrums as he placed his back to hers. 

She pressed the button to open the door and waited. No alarms. No lights on the surveillance cameras. It was a success. Despite having done similar more times than were countable, she still held her breath. This time, after all, the situation was different. 

Once inside, Rex pressed the panel button to close the door. 

The interior was pretty much what they expected. Dried up mud on the duracrete floor. Some of it black, most of it red. It was all caked up around the door. She noticed how, in town, the mud was red, but further out towards the sea, where their shelter was, the ground was made up of black sediment. 

The sea. The tide. It had flooded at some point in the past. 

Ahsoka was thrust back into the task at hand as Rex began to make haste. He’d ventured further ahead to make sure no one was inside, before beginning to search the shelves for parts. 

She followed suit and began to search the vehicles under maintenance. Each speeder was checked twice and any contents in their compartments were rifled through. 

The two parts they needed were relatively small in size and would be easy to carry. 

Rex motioned with his hands for her to check the front of the store as he took over the searching of the vehicles. With knees bent, she hurried towards the front of the establishment. The windows were uncovered and left a clear view from the doorway to the rest of town. She quickly ducked behind the counter. 

Surely the shop owner had small, common parts up front for easy access. 

As her search continued with the opening of drawers, she started to detect a faint voice. The ends of her lekku brushed her knees and she jumped. She glanced back to see if she could place her sights on Rex, but he was blocked from her view by some of the shelves. 

Ahsoka continued to loot the drawers, opening each of them with caution.

The drawer furthest to the left slid open and it suddenly cast a faint glow into the room. The voice became louder, but had yet to become clear. 

With palms on the ground, Ahsoka moved to sit on her knees. There was a voice of a young woman. 

“…service… the city of… Theed…”

It was a small datapad that had been left on. Playing, was a broadcast just barely within range. 

Rex looked up upon hearing the noise, placing the ship part he’d found into the seat of a disassembled land speeder. His steps were calculated as he approached the front room. Both deecees were drawn and at the ready, gloved fingers prepared to apply pressure to the triggers.

He crossed the threshold into the front portion of the shop only to find Ahsoka intently listening to a broadcast. The shadow of her montrals was cast on the ceiling as she lent over the device. His shoulders fell as he relaxed, relief spreading through his tense muscles. He moved to kneel down next to her, setting his helmet on the floor beside him.

The voice continued, “…former Queen… Senator of Naboo… tomorrow evening… who wish to...”

It gave a few more weak crackling noises before fizzling out into nothing but static. The room returned to darkness. 

Deep blue eyes met his own, searching for answers; full of hope. She worried her lip, “Rex, we have to go to Naboo. Senator Amidala is there. She’s my friend, she’d know how to help us. It’s likely that Anakin would be with her… and we can’t risk sending a message.”

The Captain's usually stoic face softened at her and shook his head sighing, “I honestly didn’t think it would be this soon before we got any good news. I’ll take you there, sir. I found the capacitor for the ship. I’m sure the other part is here somewhere. We can take this datapad and R7 should have the ship in a good spot. Then we can go. Should take just over an hour and we could get to Naboo before tomorrow evening. Maybe get some answers and start making sense of all this mess.”

Despite the low light conditions, he caught a smile. The barely-there smile that was meant for her. The one he saw when she came up with a quick, clever remark against the General. The one she gave right after pulling off a move she’d once struggled with. The one he’d dearly missed seeing when she left.

The arm that rested over his knee was offered to her. She obliged and he brought them back to their feet. Upon standing, Ahsoka got a glimpse of a ship part sitting just on the counter, hidden behind several unopened packages. She grabbed it and it was the stabilizing coil they needed. She shot Rex her signature smirk. He gave her a soft smirk back before refastening his helmet. 

No civvies on this run, but that was at the bottom of their list anyway.

They made way for the back door, their findings securely in hand. Rex’s finger hovered near the button to open it, as he looked to her for approval.

“Wait, I want to… check something first.” The datapad went under her arm as she walked into the ‘fresher in the far right corner of the shop

What could she possibly need in the ‘fresher?

He followed her to where she’d disappeared and found her standing on top of the counter with a piece of the ceiling pushed back. Rex had absolutely zero guesses as to what was unfolding before him.

Ahsoka shifted her weight to one foot, and stood on the very tip of her shoe to gain some height, hand still blindly searching for something. 

Her face contorted before her eyes shot open and she muttered, “Gotcha.”

Following her arm out of the ceiling was someone’s modified blaster. 

“How could you have possibly known that was up there?”

“I didn’t. Just a trick I learned from Anakin.”

Of course. He should’ve guessed. The Togrutan girl gave him an attempt of a smile after mentioning Anakin and she nodded her head toward the door. Rex finally pressed the button, and returned into the drizzling night of Jabiim.

~~~

“It’ll be risky.”

“There’s so many things I need to ask her… it’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means getting one more piece of this puzzle solved. She’s Naboo’s Senator. She was on Coruscant. She’ll know something.”

They both knew traveling somewhere as high-profile as the Senator’s home planet was dangerous. Everything was dangerous now. But, if she was still alive, they might stand a chance to rally for their freedom behind her.

Rex didn’t even know if she even was a Senator anymore. If this new Empire retained some of what once was or if it had started over completely. They wouldn’t know anything further until they were able to play that broadcast closer to where its point of origin was, or at least until they were out of Jabiim’s interfering electrical storms. 

The sullen young woman sat leaned up against a wall in their walker, reaching her hand out into the rain, watching it splatter into her palm, and then shaking the water off. 

They were both soaked through. A change of clothes and a secondary cloak had been abandoned in their haste to make it off world. Those items were a luxury in times such as these, and easier to come by than ship parts. But they were still wet and freezing. He could manage somewhat with the temperature controlled body glove, but he kept watching Ahsoka shiver through his peripheral. 

“Come back inside, take that cloak off and put it back over the chair. Let it air dry a bit at least.”

She complied, lifting her arms above her and draping the heavy garment over the seat and wringing the water from it. 

Her shoulders fell slack when she finished and resumed her place on the floor. Arms were folded tightly across her chest and she struggled to find comfort, eyes continuously looking off in the direction of R7 and the ship. 

Rex took notice and cleared his throat, “He’s got in under control. Made good progress in our absence and is placing the two parts in the ship as we speak.”

He wanted to provide her some sense of solace. But he knew she was itching to get off this rock and head towards her friend. 

A sigh escaped her lips as she shifted, bringing her hand up to test the sensitivity of her wound. She winced just slightly. Her lashes covered her cheeks as she looked down at her torso. The Captain didn’t know if he should offer to give it one last look or not. At this point, she could do it herself. Hell, she’d just completed a supply run with him. 

Ahsoka, however, was the one to prompt it, “Let’s say we see how this bad boy is faring before taking off.”

There was no helmet on his face to shield any sort of blush or discomfort now. Now, she was both alert and well enough to notice. 

Rex nodded and moved from his seat on an old console to join where his Commander sat in the sleeper. He knelt down in front of her while she tugged the blue material of her tunic up her abdomen. 

Once more his eyes were graced with supple orange skin. 

Skin he would never deserve to set his gaze upon. 

The bacta patch was still secure, but they both knew taking it off wouldn’t hurt. It would no longer be infected or open at this point. Slowly, she removed it and cast it aside when it fully detached from the skin of her abdomen. 

Just as he’d thought. The area was still a bit pink, a bit tender; still slightly painful to her poking and prodding. 

She stole a glance at him through her lashes, finding his eyes trained on the former gash to her midsection. His expression was soft, crows feet hardly noticeable. It was impossible to read him on most occasions.

The man leaned in closer before he was satisfied, “Again, I’m no medic, but I have confidence you’ll make a full recovery, sir.” Ahsoka rolled her eyes at his use of his formal Captain’s speech. The left side of his face pulled upwards into a smile for her. 

“And what about you?” She teased, pushing the saturated tunic back down to appropriate length. She did not fail to miss how Rex had to practically pry his eyes away from her, settling his stare on the floor. 

“What about me, Commander?” Rex fiddled with the piece of armor covering his thigh, finally calm enough to meet her eyes again. 

Ahsoka shot him a warning brow at his use of her title before standing, “How’s your head feeling? I haven’t even asked.”

“Oh,” his hand found its way to where the bandage still sat, “This old thing? I’ll be okay.”

That did not content her, however, as she took to closing the gap between them to examine the chip removal site for herself.

~~~

A/N: I absolutely did not want this chapter to end here it was just so long already! I'll pick up at this exact spot next week! thank you again for those of you who have stuck around for this fic while I got my life sorted and organized. weekly updates will start now and be put out every friday. if you haven't yet watched Tales of the Jedi, it would be best to do so before the next chapter!

Taglist: @redsong

[firedragon1321]

I think Kingdom Hearts fandom is going through a “renaissance” into bad behaviors I haven’t seen in a while.

Kingdom Hearts shipping toxicity usually increases the longer we lack canon content. That’s not entirely unique to KH. Fandoms tend to spin their gears during downtime between installments, and a lot of that gear-spinning is shipping. But. Like. Kingdom Hearts shipping is so toxic, I’m slipping under.

I put this under a read more for length. And also a sprinkle of vent. Ship names are censored to keep this out of their tags.

Prologue

This is not meant to bash on any ship. It is simply chronicling what I saw in the past and now, and drawing a line between them. 

Regarding S0wwiku and S0k@i- I’m not trying to bash S0wwiku as a concept. It actually makes more sense to me than S0k@i, which smacks of someone behind the scenes forcing the characters together. I might even ship Sowwiku openly, if not for the bad behavior outlined here.

Regarding akuw0ku- That ship is my nOTP for reasons that will become apparent in this rant. If you ship it, I mean no ill-will towards you. But I personally can’t stomach it.

A Brief Prehistory

To understand what I’m seeing, we need to explore how we got there. The real birth of the mega-toxic shipping culture was back around Kingdom Hearts 2. There was a fandom around the original game and COM era, but from what I’ve seen, it wasn’t as noxious as it was today with the shipping. I’ve seen S0ka! and S0wwiku (which is my new censored spelling you’ve gotta deal with). But not much else. 

The reason is simple and clean- there wasn’t much else to talk about. The game only added four original characters (Sora, Riku, Kairi, and Ansem SOD, the last of whom was ignored when Riku wasn’t in the room). The introduction of the original Organization XIII was the spark for the toxic fandom of the mid-to-late 2000s. 

I’m not 100% sure on the history for the CoM era, but it wasn’t long. There were only about 1-2 years (depending on your country) between CoM and KHII. That’s just enough time to get bored with speculating on the purpose of the Organization before you’re introduced to the whole boy band.

There were four years between KHII and 358/2 Days. Four years. Of basically nothing (remasters don’t count, and Coded was Japan-exclusive at the time). Armed with tons of pretty guys and free time, the bad seeds were able to sprout.

Ship wars. Character bashing. Creepy behaviors.

The Living Nightmare

I once knew this girl in real life who shipped akuw0ku religiously. Once, I went to a cosplay party dressed (sort of) as Roxas. She was there with a roll of duct tape. She chased me and tried to tie me up with duct-tape (she didn’t). But the thing that sticks the most with me is she didn’t call me by name while she did this.

She called me Roxas.

Most people were not as loose with their behavior in real life as her. But they were all over Internet spaces. Where- unrestrained by real life- they spit out the most toxic garbage you’ve ever seen. Age might have been a factor in this era. A lot of what went down could only be accomplished by bored teenagers. But the absolute deluge of horror was something I haven’t seen before or since.

The ship bashing and the insistence on pairings being canon was at an all-time high. “Evidence” was often based on purposefully mistranslated or false info. I believe the lie that Nomura insisted there were no romantic pairings in the series was created as an attempt at damage control. But there was just no stopping it.

“Consoled” by the “evidence”, people felt free to write OOC garbage using the seme/uke dynamic. Once the seme and uke positions were set, the characters could not leave them. Any person who attempted to criticize any of this was dogpiled. If they were targeting a gay ship- and they often were- they were instantly labeled as homophobic regardless of explanation. 

Some people were. Make no mistake. But a lot of people weren’t. Some people (i.e.- me) were new to fandom and didn’t understand slash shipping as a concept. I said things that probably were homophobic without understanding (I was 14-ish). I probably shouldn’t have said those things. But every conversation eventually became a fight for my life. After a single rebuttal, I was always personally attacked. No-one noticed I was a fresh fish in the pond. No-one tried to explain to me.

“Don’t like don’t look” wasn’t used as good fandom advice or for safety. It was used as a weapon. This is why it took my years to accept it as valid advice.

The female characters got a lot less “love” than their male counterparts. When Xion was revealed, fans attacked her for the crimes of being a woman and “cockblocking” akuw0ku. All they had at the time was a picture and a name. Kairi faced such terrible abuse that there was legitimately a fic called “The Horrible Bloody Death of Kairi”, where Sora and Riku actually kill her. 

The reason was all down to shipping. Kairi/Xion existed to threaten or “de-canonize” the gay ships. So it was best if they didn’t exist at all.

I know Kairi- amongst most of the female cast- is poorly written. But the animal behavior of these people was still excessive. It wasn’t merely disliking a character. It was wanting them to suffer to the point of obsession. Never mind how their fans might feel about this behavior. I wonder if anyone who liked Kairi read or was messaged that wretched fic...

Shippers of this type were- in some places- a very vocal minority. But they ruled the roost. The rules were simple. The ship was law. What ship didn’t matter- it depended on what corner of the Internet you were in. The roles were set. The puppets played their parts. Move the puppets, object to the group, and you were incinerated like Vexen.

A Brief Dark Age

This nonsense continued through 358/2 Days up until around Dream Drop Distance. In 2012, it petered out. But from KHII to 3D, we got three games. 358/2 Days, Birth by Sleep, and 3D itself. But no properly numbered titles. No major releases.

358/2 Days/BBS was just enough of a drip-feed to keep the fandom beast alive, without really progressing Sora’s story. Terra and Ventus formed a new couple, but Aqua wasn’t as poorly treated as Kairi/Xion. People were maturing. Nature was healing. Once Sora’s story creaked forward with 3D, it came with tons of new lore to talk about. To obsess over. To focus on.

Something outside of shipping.

And then the dark age came. Not counting Re:Coded, we didn’t get a new game until 2019. I haven’t really monitored the fandom during this time. But they seemed to grow up a bit. With Kingdom Hearts 3, new ships- like Axel and Isa- rose up. But they never became cults. Seme/uke roles were lessened. Not gone, if they already existed. But definitely weaker.

We might be able to move on. Or so it seemed.

And Yet You Understand Nothing

We are in a new dark age. Sora’s story hasn’t progressed since 2019. We’ve gotten prequel upon mobile game. But time has yet to move forward. The last time I saw people get super excited was with the end of Union X. Dark Road also brought some chatter. But since Dark Road ended, we’ve just been waiting for KH4. It has no release date- just windows that will be moved several time. You know the game.

In the void, there’s nothing to talk about. Nothing but the old fallback. Nothing but shipping.

I’ve seen a return of the canon-grubbing cult. With nothing else to talk about but old content and shipping, it was only natural. Especially regarding S0wwiku.

Sora’s tag is about 95% S0wwiku right now. People in that tag want it canon so damn bad that they draw false conclusions, and bash female characters or rob them of their accomplishments. It’s the old game in a new era.

Some people- from what I understand- place their own experiences onto the characters. Which is fine. Okay. I get that. But the drive to be canon- to be right- is coming back in full force. I fear we could go back.

Ship wars. Character bashing. Creepy behaviors.

We can pretend we grew up, but these elements never really left us. In the void without new content, desperate for something to do, we cling to darkness. And darkness is the heart’s true essence...

Kingdom Hearts is Light- Advice for New Fans

I want to end this ramble with things I wish someone would have told me. If the evil really isn’t defeated, people will jump in blind. I want them to have a better, safer fandom experience than I did.

Gay ships are okay. They are someone else’s interpretation of the characters. They are allowed to have that opinion. You are not homophobic/a monster for not liking the ship, or having a different opinion.

If you don’t like something, don’t look at it. That’s not an attack. That’s for your safety. Click the back button. Close the tab. Block the person.

Your hatred of a ship or type of content will not make it disappear. Your comment will never make content you don’t like get deleted. Attacking the author of a fic with a pairing you hate will do nothing but hurt someone’s feelings.

Blocking is not cowardly. The block function exists to protect you. If a conversation is going south, or morphs into a personal attack, block them.

If you have a ship you really like, it doesn’t have to be “canon” or “right”. If the ship-cult is trying to insist that it is, be wary (they could be exaggerating in light-hearted fun). If they attack people with other opinions, cut ties or block.

A ship is not more important than other people’s feelings. Don’t attack people who ship something you don’t like. Don’t retaliate when people tell you to ship something you hate. Block them. On sight.

If you don’t like a character, think of their fans. There is a way to say you don’t like a character other than writing fics of that character being brutally murdered. 

On Tumblr, keep character or ship rebuttals out of their tag. Censor ship names or character names. This isn’t an “unalive” situation where using the full word is important.

Never, ever, ever bring the conversation out of the fandom and into personal attacks. For example, if someone says “I don’t like this ship”, your response shouldn’t be “kill yourself” or “you’re a bad person”. Your response should be ignoring them (if they are non-aggressive) or blocking them (if they are).

I’m going to make this section its own post, because I feel like it’s so important. We always believe that fans are seasoned veterans. We never account for people who just left the islands and are starting their adventure. It would be wrong to post this without addressing the facet of this issue that led it to scar me.

[imagineitdearies-old]

Hello! I’m sorry for sending this but I was wondering if you could explain how to be able to post anything really and for it to appear. I have tried to post stuff and it never appears but especially because I have my own little story in the works and don’t know how to post it in hops of someone reading it.

Thank you!

Hi! I assume you're asking about ao3? I have zerooo knowledge on anything tumblr-related, so without further ado here is

Imogen's Very Unofficial Guide to Posting on Ao3:

First and foremost, use tags thoroughly. Not an essay-length of them, of course, but covering things past the relationship, fandom, and warnings can go a long way toward you attracting the right readers. Like setting (modern/canon-divergence/omegaverse/post-episode #/etc), relationship dynamics (like top/bottom, which really matters in lucemond lol), any E rating descriptors worthy of note (if any), and of course general themes of the story (hurt/comfort/crack/dead dove: do not eat/etc.). This makes it a lot easier for people who would enjoy your story content to find you amidst everything else posted.

If you're new to tagging, I'd recommend finding a few popular fics that match the content/story of your fic to some extent and seeing how they tag. I also recommend this post if you're very new to tags and looking for a very detailed explanation of them.

Second, especially at the beginning, post regularly. If that means you have to write a couple of chapters up before you post the first, then do so. Readers like consistency. Building that trust at the start will help them stay faithful when Life stuff inevitably comes up. (Obviously this is only relevant if you are posting a multi-chapter fic.)

Third, and this one others may disagree with me on, but have an estimated chapter count as soon as you can. In my opinion, a reader is much more likely to try you out, even if you don't have many kudos/hits/comments yet, if you seem to have a plan. On the other hand, seeing a new story posted with 1/? chapters is not very tempting for most who have been burned before (unless they REALLY like your tags and summary).

Fourth, speaking of summaries, on ao3 a big reason people scroll past your fic 9even if you have tags they like/searched for) is if your summary is bad. Take time and make sure you write a good summary. I would again recommend you look at popular stories most similar to the one you're writing and their summaries. Scrolling through lucemond fics, for instance, there is a very popular format used: throw in a couple of lines from the first chapter as a hook, then on a new line add "Or" and a short sentence or two of explanation. (This is my preferred method, but there are plenty of others too!)

Fourth and last, and probably the hardest---your writing needs to be clean and easy to read. If you think you're already doing everything listed before this pretty well, the main issue may be bad grammar and sentence structure. That's more effort to fix, and often the only cure is writing more and reading more (particularly reading more published fiction). But if you're in a hurry, I know a lot of writers enlist the help of beta readers to catch the big stuff before posting. I don't have any personal experience with using a beta, though, so I have no advice on how to find one unfortunately.

ALTERNATIVELY: Just wait until it's 3 in the morning or you're entirely smashed (or both!) to post it, sleep in until 2pm, and if you wake up and there's no engagement, just delete it and pretend it never happened/try again later 😂 I've done this at least twice over the years.

[cophene]

024 || ☆ ⁺ « HE'S MY BABY.

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pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : with virtually nothing left in their credit account, a gang of space thieves turn to the richest man in the galaxy to give them  a job worth millions. too bad those never come easy, even with stand abilities and pretty-faced crew notes : sci-fi au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 3.2k+

★˚⋆ CANNOLO AND MISTA WERE OUTSIDE OF Sector A, speaking in low tones with each other. They looked up as you passed, cutting their conversation short

“You’re not dead,” Mista drawled, but you heard the undercurrent of relief in his voice.

You showed him the hard drive before enclosing it back in a card and stowing it away. “I told you I’d get what we needed from Polpo.” You turned to Cannolo. “I’m assuming Zero had a plan in place for us to get out of the penitentiary?”

Cannolo raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re all done here? I’m not gonna be able to let you back in here if you forgot your undies.”

“I don’t have time to flack around, Cannolo.”

“Fine. Don’t get pressed. I’ll notify Zero. He’ll send over a report that I’ll show to Inspector Abbacchio. It will contain directions to have your crew transferred to a different penitentiary. If you can get in touch with your pilot, that would be the time to intercept the ship.”

“And how long will that take?”

“Not long. You should be out by tonight. Abbacchio hates to keep people waiting.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Mista said, following Cannolo back to your cells. “Don’t you have a bunch of holopads stored away in Party Rock, Cap?”

“None of them work here,” you said. “All of their signals get jammed. The only holopads that can gain signals are ones assigned to GA officers and guards.”

Fugo had a code he’d created with Coco Jumbo to get in contact with the turtle once you’d learned Polnareff’s whereabouts and was ready to escape. Your main priority right now was to retrieve JoJo from Gwess and pinch a holopad from one of the GA’s.

The hardest part was over. You just had to get back to your ship and find Polnareff and the Arrow.

“Be on your best behaviour,” Cannolo said as you parted ways at the cafeteria. “You don’t want to give Abbacchio any more reason to be suspicious before you leave.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t need to warn us. Just get your message to Zero.”

You and Mista took a seat at one of the tables in the cafeteria. You could tell Mista wanted to ask about what had happened with Polpo, but you weren’t in the mood to enlighten him. You felt off-kilter. Thrown off of your game. The last thing you needed was Polpo, a literal stranger, telling you you weren’t yourself. What did that flacker know? You shouldn’t have been letting it affect you. Who cared who you were so long as Zero’s job was done?

Several minutes passed. Mista ate his mashed potatoes while you tapped out an impatient beat with your foot. Where were Fugo and Trish? They should have been back here with JoJo by now.

“You should go check on ‘em, Cap,” Mista said. “You’re getting on my nerves.”

“This shouldn’t be taking them so long. I only told them to do one thing. And I sent both of them.”

Mista looked up at your harsh tone. “Woah, no need to get on their asses about it. You know nobles. They’re always formal as flack and spend hours making chitchat.”

“They should know better by now,” you said. “Makes me wonder if they even learned anything on this damn crew.”

“Are you . . . alright? You’re really snippy all of a sudden.”

“Why? Do I not seem myself?” you couldn’t help asking.

“Well, kinda, I mean—”

“Are you going to be able to steal a holopad or am I going to have to do that myself too?”

“Captain, relax. I’m just trying to say—”

“Are you going to get it or not? You might as well tell me now so I can get it on the way.”

Mista clenched his jaw. “Yeah, I can get it.”

“Do that.” You pushed away from the table. “I’ll find JoJo myself.”

You were getting irrationally pissed off and you couldn’t say why. It was probably the air in this penitentiary. The sooner you got out of here, the better.

You asked around for Gwess’ cell. Even from your vague descriptions, everyone seemed to know who you were talking about. You found it without too much trouble and nearly got ploughed over by Fugo going in the opposite direction. 

You caught his sleeve. “Hey, I’ve been waiting for you. Where’s Trish? Did you get JoJo?”

Fugo’s face was flushed and he had to close his eyes and take a breath before he answered, “Forget about JoJo. He told us to go on without him and we should.”

“What are you talking about? Where is he? Why couldn’t you get him?”

“I’m assuming you got what you needed from Polpo, right? Then we should go. We tried to reason with Gwess but she refused to listen. No amount of reasoning is going to get through to her. We should make plans to escape instead of wasting time on her.” Fugo’s pragmatism was always ruthless. You didn’t fault him for it but this was another crewmember you were talking about.

“I’ll go talk to her,” you said. “Meet up with Mista, he’ll tell you what to do.”

“Captain, Gwess isn’t going to listen to you. She’s only going to waste your time. She didn’t hear a word I said to her!”

“JoJo is a crewmember. I’m not going to leave him behind.”

“But he isn’t! He’s done nothing to earn our trust! If Trish can’t convince Gwess, you won’t be able to either!”

Fugo was yelling now, his face growing red. You stared at him. 

“Shouldn’t everyone get a chance, Fugo?”

“No, they shouldn’t.”

“What are you trying to tell me, then? Who is JoJo? What do you know that I don’t?”

“I just know that you can’t trust him.”

“Are you trying to say that he’s a spy?”

“No, just that—” Fugo worked his jaw. “Maybe you don’t know the whole story.”

“If you do, you have an obligation to tell me.” Fugo couldn’t meet your gaze. “I hate to tell you this, but if you’re doing this because you’re feeling petty or something like that—”

“You insult me, Captain.”

“What else am I supposed to think? You won’t tell me what’s wrong. The easiest conclusion to make is that you’re jealous of JoJo and want to leave him behind. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Fugo’s eyes flashed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t have time for this.” You shouldered past Fugo. “Go back and meet with Mista. We’re leaving as soon as I get JoJo back.”

“Captain, can’t you trust me?”

There was something in Fugo’s voice when he said it. You paused.

“I do. But what am I supposed to do when you won’t tell me anything?”

“I would never do anything to hurt you, Captain. You know that, right?”

You didn’t say anything. You wanted to think the answer was obvious, but was it really? 

Fugo clenched his jaw. The two of you parted ways, and you told yourself you were just being silly, that JoJo was perfectly trustworthy and even if he wasn't, it wasn't as though you couldn't defend yourself against him.

When you got to Gwess’ cell. Gwess was smooshed into the corner, giggling at something cupped in her lap. It looked like she'd been there for a while.

Trish rose to her feet, relieved. She looked on the verge of tears. 

“Captain, I don’t know what to do. She won’t listen to anything I say!”

You looked around, wondering if you were missing something. “Whereis JoJo?”

Trish’s lip trembled. “That’s the thing.”

You suppressed a sigh and turned to Gwess, who was now talking in a gushy, syrupy voice to whatever was in her hand.

“Gwess, I don’t have time to flack around. Where’s my rookie?”

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing in the galaxy? Can you chirp? I’ll give you a cookie if you chirp.” Gwess patted the thing in her hand with a finger. “Come on. I know you can do it.”

“Gwess, where is JoJo?”

Gwess’ head swivelled towards you. “I have no idea.”

“We gave you your stupid bird. Now give us our rookie.”

“I guess you’ll just have to find him,” she singsonged.

Your jaw ticked. Without warning, you snatched whatever Gwess was holding out her hands.

“Careful with that!” she shrieked. “Put my baby down!”

“Not until you tell us where JoJo is. A deal’s a deal!”

“Do you mind going a little easier on me? Your grip is pretty firm.”

You glanced at Trish in alarm. She shook her head and you slowly brought down your hand.

Gwess had been holding a little bird, yellow and a little bedraggled. You brought it closer to your face and peered into its beak.

“Hello, Captain,” said JoJo.

“What happened?” you exclaimed, trying to force the beak open wider. “Why are you tiny?”

“Give him back!” Gwess cried. She lunged for you. “That’s my little baby!”

Trish hooked her around the middle and swung her back. You were faintly surprised at her strength. “We said you could have the bird, not JoJo! Is this your Stand ability?”

“Mommy will get you back!” Gwess wailed. “Just chirp for Mommy!”

“Chirp,” JoJo deadpanned and Gwess nearly lost it then and there.

“Call off your Stand, Gwess. How much do you want? Zero could probably get you out of this penitentiary if you wanted.” 

You backed against the wall of the cell, wondering how Gwess had even been able to stuff JoJo into the bird—skin?—carcass? You shuddered. There was no way you were getting your fingers in there to pull him out. 

“You alright?” you asked him. Bird skin aside, JoJo was remarkably unfazed. A little tired, but pretty composed, considering.

“Gwess’ Stand ability only shrank me,” JoJo replied. “I think she wants to keep me as her pet.”

“Give him back!” Gwess wailed, struggling against Trish. “He’s my baby! You promised!”

“We promised you a bird,” you said. “And you got it.”

“But what cute things can a bird say?” Gwess asked. “I need a pet that can say cute things to me like ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m hungry’. Can you say that for Mommy?” she said to JoJo.

“I’m not hungry, but I do want to get out of this bird suit,” JoJo said.

“That’s not cute,” Gwess said. “Why don’t you say ‘I love you’ instead?”

You rolled your eyes. “Gwess, we gotta get out of here. Make JoJo big again and I’ll put in a word with Zero to get you something for helping us out.”

“Well, why don’t you give me my baby?”

Trish’s grip shifted from around Gwess’ torso to her neck. “Give us JoJo. We’re very busy people and we’ve spent enough time humouring you, Gwess.”

“I’m not going to let you take my baby,” she said stubbornly.

“Gwess,” JoJo called, his voice carrying despite his size. “I can give you a pet if that’s what you want. One even cuter than I am.”

“And how are you going to do that?” you said.

“I’ll need to be my original size first.”

JoJo sounded like he was bullshitting but Gwess appeared to be considering it.

“If you let me at least try, I’ll tell you I love you,” JoJo cajoled.

Stars burst in Gwess’ eyes. “Will you really?” 

“I will.”

You and Trish looked at each other. She reluctantly let go of Gwess while you set JoJo on Gwess’ cot. Immediately, Gwess knelt in front of her cot, staring at JoJo expectantly. You would’ve thought he was about to reveal the secrets of the universe.

JoJo took in a huge breath. You would at least give him kudos for wearing the bird carcass like a fitted tux. “Gwess,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “I love you!”

You winced. Trish chomped down her lip. Gwess let out a happy shriek, grabbing up JoJo and rubbing him against her cheek. “Oh, I love you too! Who’s a cute birdie? You are! You are!”

You were going to be sick. “Alright, enough. Now make him big again.”

“Oh, but he’s so cute—”

“Gwess, I’m about to fire an elector through your skull. Call off your Stand ability.”

With a huff, Gwess summoned her Stand. Something small and shrivelled appeared seemingly inside of the suit with JoJo and hauled him out, much to your disgust. It pushed him over the cot and he was his regular size before he hit the floor.

You reflected that there were much, much worse things Gwess could have done besides stuff JoJo in a bird suit. You supposed you could count yourself lucky.

Gwess looked faintly misty eyed. “You were so much cuter when you were small.”

“I’m flattered,” JoJo said, smiling. He looked at you and Trish. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you to step outside before I make Gwess her new pet.”

“Why?” Trish asked suspiciously.

“It’ll just be easier if you do. I appreciate you coming out here to save me. I promise I’ll come out.”

“That’s not what this is about—”

“Captain,” JoJo said, still smiling. His voice hardened. “I told you to go on without me and you didn’t. I’ve already wasted enough of your time. I suggest you do as I say. I hate repeating myself.”

Trish stiffened. You rolled your eyes.

“Fine. But I’ve got questions for you, JoJo.”

You and Trish slipped out of Gwess’ cell. You had no idea how JoJo was going to give a different bird to Gwess. It reminded you a lot of the roulette wheel debacle. JoJo had managed to pull through then too, and you still had no idea how.

Even though the honeycomb screen covering each cell was holographic, they were still opaque and sound proof. You got as close to it as you could, straining to make out even the smallest bit of sound. 

“Why are you so caught up on him, Captain?”

“I’m not. He’s a crewmate. I can’t leave him behind. I don’t want to have another argument about this, Fugo already gave me hell for it.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little . . . off?”

“That’s rich, coming from us.”

“It’s just that . . . well . . .”

You looked away from the honeycomb screen to find Trish gnawing on her fingernail. She took great pains to keep her hands manicured. You’d never seen her do that before.

“What?”

Trish pulled her finger from her mouth. “No. It’s nothing. I guess I just don’t know him well enough, that’s all.”

Yes, that was it, you thought. No one on the crew knew JoJo well enough. He was a good kid. You just needed more time to get to know him. He had days where the rest of your crew had years.

The honeycomb screen dissipated and JoJo stepped through, but not before a loud shriek slipped through from the other side.

“Someone’s happy,” you said.

JoJo shrugged. He slipped his hands into his pockets and started walking. The patrol bots were starting to escort people back to their sectors.

“JoJo.”

He didn’t stop.

“JoJo.”

He paused. “Captain.”

“What’s your Stand ability? Tell me really.”

“I heal people. I told you that.”

“But how? How does healing people change a roulette ball’s position? How does it get a new bird for Gwess?”

JoJo turned to look at you then. You hesitated.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just want to know.”

JoJo blinked. “My Stand ability allows me to create living tissue. Regenerate it. That’s how I’m able to heal injuries. The roulette ball is admittedly just a sleight of hand. I found a beetle scuttling around the ground and infused it with new tissue. I wasn’t sure if it would be able to move the ball at all, but that’s how I moved the ball into a different slot. As for Gwess’ bird, it wasn’t completely dead. I just used the tissues it had to give it new life.”

“So you can’t revive anything that’s already dead?” Trish asked.

“No. I don’t think anything can.”

There was nothing wrong with what JoJo had said. But still—

Something clamped down on your arm. You looked up, ready to cuss them out, only to quail at the sight of one of the patrol bots. It scanned your face then blinked red.

[ PRISONER FE038 YOU ARE WANTED FOR TRANSFER. YOU ARE EXPECTED TO COMPLY OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES. ]

The bot grabbed your wrists and attached a glowing pair of mag cuffs to them. You didn’t have time to check on Trish or JoJo before it was hauling you off like an errant puppy. You stumbled along after it, only just managing to regain your footing so you could at least look dignified during your escort.

This would be the escort Cannolo had been talking about. You hoped Mista had gotten his hands on a holopad and that Narancia was aware of the escape plan. You hoped he was alright. In all of the commotion, you hadn’t had time to worry about his eye. Maybe there was some way JoJo would be able to repair it?

The patrol bot had a little too much fun tossing you bodily forward. You knocked into a sturdy pair of legs and nearly bashed your nose in.

Asswipe was busy securing Mista and Fugo for transport. His pretty face was blank, nowhere near as annoyed as you would have expected.

“Captain, glad you could join us,” he said. He helped you to your feet, double checking your mag cuffs before moving off to JoJo and Trish. Once he was satisfied, he waved his hand, and the mag cuffs of you and your crew snapped together to form a linked chain with you at the head.

“How are you doing?” Asswipe asked you, walking beside you as he led you out of the sector and down a nondescript hallway. You waited for a barb but it didn’t come.

“Could be better,” you said grudgingly. Asswipe tended to lose his edge when your crew was in custody. It was part of the reason why it was so easy to escape. You were still wary of him, though. All of the teasing and bad mouthing aside, it was hard to read him. You still didn’t know why he was still on your crew’s case when his amazing inspector skills would be so much better used elsewhere.

“Sit at the back of the ship,” Abbacchio said, looking straight ahead. “There’s a maintenance door nearby that you should be able to use. You should know what to do from there.”

“What?”

“No talking,” Asswipe barked. “Face forward and keep your hands in front of you.”

You did as he said. You hoped that whoever was behind you had also heard that because that would be the second time Asswipe had said something out of turn. Either he was starting to lose his marbles or—

Or nothing. You couldn’t really think of any scenario where Inspector Asswipe would ever want to help your crew. That wasn’t what mortal enemies did.

You snorted quietly to yourself. Crazy Asswipe was an Asswipe you could get used to.

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[violetsareblue-selfships]

Caught Staring

F/Os: Raiden Ei + Yae Miko | Word Count: 1015 | Warnings/Tags: gay (idk - this is pretty fluffy lol); pre-canon (so last names are used to refer to them rather than first names :3)

A/N: Mm, I really am too behind on posting stories (i have so many help me) so here’s an EiMiko x Me one (it’s our first meeting actually :3) Hope you enjoy!

On first glance, it's a perfectly ordinary day. The sun is warm and there's a faint breeze that made it all too easy to decide to spend the day reading outside. Occasionally, someone will greet April and they'll chat a bit before going about their days.

In short, it's a perfect day.

So, why is she surprised when she hears the sound of the prettiest laughter she's ever heard? Actually, it's two distinct laughs, but both of them are beautiful.

In an effort to put a face to those laughs, April looks up from her book and looks around. As she does, she recognizes the two walking by. How could she not? The Electro Archon is such a distinctive figure that it's impossible to not know her if someone lives in Inazuma.

April lets out a little sigh. They really are beautiful… It's far from the first time she's thought something along these lines, but they wouldn't look twice at her. What would an archon and a kitsune want from some ordinary person like her?

Well, ordinary is not quite a good descriptor, but April certainly holds no status here. Meaning she's ordinary enough in their eyes.

But, oh, only if she could manage to catch their attention. Someone else would certainly ask for a wish to be granted or maybe even ask for a vision, but April's already got one of her own and she has no grand wishes to ask of an archon.

However, who wouldn't want the attention of two stunning ladies? Even a sliver of their attention would leave her giddy for days, she's sure.

"You there~!" A voice calls and April looks around, confused. "Yes, you." April almost gasps when she realizes who's trying to get her attention. "There we go. Why don't you come on over here, hmm?"

Who is April to ignore an invitation like that? Not when Yae Miko is the one calling her over. April nods and shuts her book, quickly getting up and heading over. She bows her head a little once she stops in front of them, her manners guiding her to not offend them in some way.

"Now, now, there's no need for that, darling." Yae says teasingly, chuckling as pink blossoms over April's face. "Let us look at you."

April actually does gasp this time, but she lifts her head as instructed to meet eyes with Yae.

"Good." Yae purrs, smirking when April's blush grows darker. "Who knew it was such a pretty thing staring at us, Ei?"

"Miko…" Raiden says admonishingly, though there's still fondness to her expression.

"Mm…" Yae hums. "I suppose I'll stop teasing her… For now. Though, it does make me curious… Just why were you looking at us, little one?"

Her appraising look sends butterflies through April and she shivers a little. "I just couldn't help but admire you both. You're both incredibly beautiful." She admits even as Yae smirks at her again.

"Oh? How sweet. Is that the only reason? You don't happen to want something, do you?" Yae asks with a raised eyebrow.

April quickly shakes her head. "No? Hmm… This would be your chance to ask, you know?"

"I'm aware." April says softly, the firmness of it causing Yae to laugh.

"Miko, a word?" Raiden says and April watches impassively as the two gather close to whisper to each other. If she were a different type of person, she'd use her shapeshifting powers to enhance her hearing in some way to listen in, but eavesdropping has never been her thing.

So, she waits for them to turn back to her, a little surprised when Raiden is the one to speak to her this time. "We would like to ask you something. Though, please, do not feel pressured to say yes just because of our status, alright?"

April nods and when Raiden smiles at her, it feels like the breath has been stolen from her, or maybe a more apt comparison would be it feels like she's been struck by lightning.

"How would you feel about going on a date with us?" Raiden asks and April's eyes widen. That certainly wasn't what she was expecting her to ask.

"Huh?! You'd really want to… with me??" April asks softly, more stunned that the two that she's been admiring in silence all this time would give her a chance without her even asking for it.

"Mhm. You really are quite pretty." Raiden says and April feels like she could faint. An actual archon is calling her pretty.

"And wouldn't it be such a shame let you slip from our grasp?" Yae asks, smiling a little softer when April looks at her. "After all, we don't bump into someone as pretty as you often."

April smiles at their compliments, looking so adorable to the two that it proves why they've asked this. "I would love to."

"Wonderful." Yae says with a grin. "We can plan details later, but!" She meets eyes with Raiden, who gives a single nod. "You're more than welcome to walk with us now."

"Are you headed somewhere in particular?" April asks curious, not about to say no to spending more time with them.

"Not really." Raiden says, "We're headed vaguely in the direction of the beaches near Ritou, but we couldn't miss out on such lovely weather."

"That sounds lovely. I'll walk with you then." April says, blushing a little when it causes both of them to smile warmly at her.

Her heart stutters when the two of them separate where their arms had been linked, each offering an arm to her. April's sure that her face is bright red as she links her arms with theirs, overwhelmed as she is with the attention.

"Cute…" She hears Yae murmur.

The conversation slowly goes back to what Yae and Raiden had been talking about before. April's more than happy to be there talking with them, especially once they start trying to get to know her.

She's extremely excited for the date they'll go on later. If it's anything like this, it's going to be amazing.

[aceredshirt13]

On what occasions does Ryunosuke Naruhodo get paid?

(inspired by this post)

THE GREAT ACE ATTORNEY: ADVENTURES

Case 1-1

Defendant: Ryunosuke Naruhodo

Does Ryunosuke get paid? Unless the economy worked much differently in the Meiji period, Ryunosuke unfortunately cannot pay himself.

Case 1-2

Defendant: Also Ryunosuke Naruhodo

Does Ryunosuke get paid? There wasn’t a trial, so he couldn’t pay himself even if he could pay himself.

Case 1-3

Defendant: Magnus McGilded

Does Ryunosuke get paid? Nope, because in canon he blatantly refused to take any money from him due to McGilded’s obvious murder energy.

Case 1-4

Defendant: Soseki Natsume

Does Ryunosuke get paid? I’m pretty sure Soseki has about five shillings to his name, and none of them are going to Ryunosuke. He’d probably try to pay him a tiny bit, though, and Ryu would refuse.

Case 1-5

Defendant: Gina Lestrade

Does Ryunosuke get paid? Even if she weren’t a homeless teen stealing to stay alive, there’s no way in hell Ryunosuke would charge her a cent. She’s long since been absorbed into the Baker Street family unit. No escape.

THE GREAT ACE ATTORNEY 2: RESOLVE

Case 2-1

Defendant: Rei Membami

Does Ryutaro Susato get paid? Given that Ryutaro is neither a real lawyer nor a real person, there is no way any payment could be legally given - and since Rei is Susato’s closest friend, Susato wouldn’t take it even if she could.

Case 2-2

Defendant: Soseki Natsume again

Does Ryunosuke get paid? If anything, Soseki has even less money than he did previously. So I seriously doubt it. Maybe he pays him back for both trials once he becomes a successful author?

Case 2-3

Defendant: Albert Harebrayne

Does Ryunosuke get paid? Oh, he absolutely does. Yes, Ryu may have said that he didn't need a monetary reward after Albert said he'd have given him all the grant money if he could, but Albert was so so grateful to him that I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to repay him again later (beyond gifting him the little scientific journal he was published in as a memento). And even if Albert's insistence is turned down once again, well... let’s just say Ryu will be getting a significant check in the mail, whether he wants to or not, from a certain wealthy - and very grateful - prosecutor.

Cases 2-4 and 2-5

Defendant: Barok van Zieks

Does Ryunosuke get paid? Once again, very wealthy prosecutor, very handsome check. And it definitely helps when the defense attorney in question literally uncovers and unravels everything you thought you believed about your family and the world at large, positive and negative. I feel like that deserves a handsome check.

BONUS CASES

Escapade 8 - In The Bailey

Defendant: Herlock Sholmes

Does Ryunosuke get paid? Knowing Herlock, almost certainly not. But Herlock appears to be giving him room and board free of charge, so that’s honestly probably enough to cover this fever dream of an accidental parakeet assault case.

DLC Case 1 - Japan Side

Defendant: Kazuma Asogi

Does Kazuma get paid? Kazuma is following in his partner’s footsteps by also not being able to pay himself. Even if this trial wasn’t a farce.

DLC Case 2 - London Side

Defendant: Iris Wilson

Does Herlock get paid? He better fucking not. I know how Herlock is about trying to get money, sometimes even from Iris, but given that almost the entire thing was his fault (despite his, and Iris’s, actually very sweet intentions) and the fact that technically the charges were dropped, I’m gonna say that he isn’t getting monetary compensation from her. At most, Iris might perhaps pay him in tea.

In conclusion, thank God Ryunosuke and Susato had a stipend and a place to live rent-free, because otherwise they’d have starved to death before Barok could put any money in their bank account. (Or perhaps they’d have been more willing to take McGilded’s money, despite the murder energy.)