#(or out of my own body I suppose since that's the primary culprit)

[kirby-the-gorb]

[hopeymchope]

How would you rank the 18 Class Trials from THH, DR2, and V3 from worst to best?

This is... virtually impossible for me, lol. Comparing the trials from each game to each other?

How about I just rank them within each game? That'll make it a little easier for me to deal with...

DR1

6) 5th. It's driven by lies and ultimately rushed to its end before the characters can draw any solid (pointless/meaningless) conclusions. So of course it's last for this game, and it’s probably last for the entire series as well. If there are any saving graces to this trial, it’s the surprise when your closest ally is willing to let our protagonist die... and that this trial contains the fake/bad ending route.

5) 3rd. Although the main culprit is pretty obvious from the jump, it requires some surprising twists to explain how everything got to be the way it turned out. But did I always find those twists plausible? Errrrm... not really. 

4) 2nd. Pretty good trial that's hurt for me by the fact that there'd barely be any need for a trial at all if a certain third party didn't dick around with the evidence for no reason. Also, the dual nature of Toko is an incredibly predictable reveal. Without those two aspects dragging it down, though, this could easily go higher.

3) 1st. Sure, the major hint given and, subsequently, the eventual culprit are pretty obvious, but this one establishes so much about how the trials work and how much the details you observe will matter that it’s still pretty fun that first time around. The initial surprise of the first victim makes for a great way to keep you invested in the trial experience. This trial is damn near iconic now, so it feels almost mandatory to respect it.

2) 6th. DR1 still has the best "final trial,” easily. SO MANY great reveals, and they all totally work for me. Nothing rings false or disappointing, and it also features Makoto finally coming into his own and taking the lead. I nearly labeled this my top pick for DR1, but...

1) 4th. It's easily the most emotionally dramatic/satisfying for me, and there’s something weirdly inspirational for me about Hina’s incredibly harsh stance during it. This one GOT ME IN THE FEELS, and in part that was because I saw so little of it coming. After the more predictable elements of the first and third trials, this felt like the writing was firing on all cylinders. 

DR2

6) 2nd. You have to accept a couple leaps of logic to make this trial keep flowing, and the fact that trial is ultimately reliant on someone noticing a candy that’s very small and hard to see while the person is also in a stressful situation and they are groggy from being drugged/asleep and it necessitates the person retaining this seemingly useless detail inside their brain .... that’s always bugged me.  The “escape route” conversation even retroactively raises questions about the first trial. Oof. On the upside, the reveals it brought us about Fuyuhiko and Peko were incredibly important, satisfying, and legit surprising turns. And it’s pretty cool how it’s basically a two-for-one combo trial because you have to solve the Twilight Syndrome case before you solve the current case. 

5) 3rd. Other people have pointed out the leaps of logic and missing pieces of this trial, but at the same time, the candlelight hanging is so intense and the ultimate reveal of the culprit is such a brutal turn that I have to give it some props. The culprit’s primary plan is ultimately one of the most ingenious in the series, IMO, and definitely one of the most twisted/fucked-up, which earns it some points. 

4) 4th. This is probably the single murder case in the franchise that I understood the absolute least about when entering the trial, for better or worse. On the one hand, that made it really fun to see the mystery gradually unfurl, but on the other hand, it made it tough for me to provide the right answers at certain points in the trial, leaving me fumbling. A big part of those issues was how it was initially hard for me to wrap my head around the nature of the funhouse via the provided 2D graphics... but once I eventually got there, I had to respect the creativity that went into devising such a “weapon.” Also, it can be hard to tolerate Komaeda in this trial. He’s even more of a know-it-all-but-reveal-none-of-it jackass than ever before, and his turn towards overt cruelty towards the others (and Hajime in particular) left me raging. The culprit reveal is good, but the motive does beg the question of why he didn’t just come forward from the jump.

3) 6th. There are a lot of great reveals in the final trial that totally reframe how you see the characters, and some of them are deliciously twisted. There’s also a ton of great dialogue provided, and in retrospect, it’s actually sort of neat to have one endgame mastermind reveal in this franchise that doesn’t involve the “They were hiding among us this whole time” trope. All that plus the surprise return of our surviving heroes from the first game! However, this is also where they officially reveal a core element of DR2 and its setting that I've never liked. This knocks the trial down a few pegs for me. Of course, by the time you reach the trial, I'm sure 99% of players have already figured that particular "twist" out. There’s adequate evidence to predict it in the first freaking chapter, and I know this because I DID predict it in the first chapter of my initial playthrough... which further hurts the supposed “reveal” of the island’s true nature when it comes around. 

2) 1st. Probably my favorite of the “first trials,” there are lot of components that go into this one. There’s a combination of two premeditated killers plus one spur-of-the-moment accidental victim, there’s a satisfying (though admittedly maybe too easy) reveal of the killer being one of the most unpleasant people to be around during the first chapter, and I really dig how audio became a very important component of the mystery due to the total blackout. This is also the part of the game where we learn just how twisted Komaeda really is, which is HUGE both in terms of its immediate shock factor for a total newcomer and in terms of its impact on the game as a whole. Of course, since it’s a “first trial,” it can’t be too complicated... but they still manage to confuse so many of us with “MEAT ON THE BONE” :P

1) 5th. Again, I will almost always give the most emotionally intense one the top slot. The “traitor reveal” is obviously THAT MOMENT in DR2. I also love how this one used the strange internal logic established early in the game RE: Komaeda’s luck to develop the eventual solution. And forcing us to make use of evidence gathered in multiple locations outside of the immediate site of the body/murder? That more complexity of that type that I see relevant to a trial, the more I appreciate it, and this one has loads of that stuff. Although I guess the investigation isn’t technically part of the trial itself... but it’s still very relevant to it. 

DRV3

6) 4th. I found this whole trial to be just... extremely predictable. Maybe it’s because I was so far into the series that I’d gotten used to its tricks by this point, but this was the most predictable trial for me since the first one in the first game. The whole looping/rollover map setup of the VR? Obvious. The murder weapon? Obvious. Our culprit’s ongoing confusion at everything discussed? Obvious. There were only a couple of points I didn’t have already figured out when I walked into the trial room, and those turned out to be basically irrelevant (such as the bottle of poison). The eventual motive is at least a surprise, but I also found it hard to accept that this culprit would really kill people over it. Overall: Super lame. 

5) 3rd. Another double murder trial, and once again one murder overshadows the other. The séance murder is definitely clever. Sure, you know the culprit pretty early on, but the methodology is the good part. However, the real fascinating one for me is the art lab “locked room” murder. Going into the trial, I couldn’t fathom how they were going to explain that one, and I found the answer both smart and satisfying. It’s funny to imagine how many times the culprit had to try that stunt with the lock before it actually worked, heh. This is probably the best of the three “double murder” mysteries in the series, but the trial isn’t as emotionally affecting as the 3rd trial in DR2 to me. Moreover, the trial loses points for the most infuriating Hangman’s Gambit of the series and especially for the motive reveal. When the killer’s motive can be boiled down to “they’re basically just a psycho serial killer,” it’s not very interesting.

4) 6th. The first part of the trial, which deals with re-assessing the first case? It’s pretty damn on-point. That leads to the mastermind reveal, which... isn’t great, really. It’s not a terribly interesting character to make the mastermind, they have no interesting motives or characterization to unevil, and they’re ultimately just a pawn behind another, off-screen group of masterminds. But then things get uproariously funny to me. The metatextual stuff is just so goddamn ridiculous. It’s frustrating and annoying how much of our not-mastermind’s explanation is clearly full of lies and half-truths that we’ll never have complete answers on, but that’s also part of what makes it all fascinating. We get to swap protagonists like four times! There’s a fake-out Game Over! These are really cool things. But it all leads down the road of our protagonist arguing that fiction does affect reality (yes, good), that fictional people can still matter (definitely) and that... fictional lives are equal in value to real ones? Uhhhhh slow down there, champ. That only works for YOUR universe, where fictional people can be made out of living, breathing individuals. But in light of the metatextual stuff you’re surrounded by, you kinda sound silly AF right now?

3)  2nd. Look, this is still incredibly irritating to me. Also, if you go down the alternate “lying” route at one point, you are forced to accept that these piranhas were somehow trained to only eat dead things, which is just... so deeply dumb.  But what is good is the entire ropeway conceit (which is a very significant part of the trial!) and the idea of the partition inside the tank. This was a murder with an elaborate, intelligent plan that is very well-executed. And the motive reveal? It’s one of the best in the series! I respect that stuff. (If I had the right to toss the execution in as part of the soup, I’d say that it’s also one of the series’ best. Let’s call it the icing on the cake.)

2) 1st. The writing that made this trial work is undeniably clever. The way the narration told us exactly what was happening without really telling us what was happening? It was a masterstroke of both great writing and perfect localization coming together. When it becomes clear during the trial what is about to happen, it’s a huge shock. The transition to another protagonist with the lights flickering out and back on is beautiful. Even the core concept of a protagonist who was willing to step up and try to kill the mastermind immediately is just deeply interesting. And obviously this one made my emotions run high. HOWEVER! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Kaede Akamatsu was a more interesting, unique, and compelling protagonist than Shuichi Saihara ever was. Ultimately, the protagonist-swap, no matter how well-written, was a mistake because they shifted us from a unique character with an interesting new perspective to a character who is, in many ways, “Makoto Naegi with even less self-esteem.” Yes, I know he has aspects that make him distinct as his own person, but there’s still just too much there that feels like we’ve done it before, and he never fully escapes from that. It feels like a massive waste and a huge missed opportunity to ditch Kaede like this. Now, if they had just done the protagonist swap in reverse — making us start out with Shuichi before flipping things over to Kaede — we could’ve had ourselves something amazing here.

1) 5th. I know I decided that I couldn’t rank all among each other, but if I did do that, I feel confident that the 5th trial in DRV3 would rank very high indeed. You go into the trial unable to even determine who the victim was due to the fact that two people are missing and there was nothing left of the body that spoke to an identity. Going into it, you naturally figure that one of the two missing parties has to be the victim and the other one is probably the culprit. But even with just two friggin’ suspects, the amount of turnabouts in the case that made me rethink all my assumptions was insane. Sure, the explanation for how the person inside the Exisal can maintain “character” is pretty damn thin, but once you get past that, I don’t think there’s a single false note in the trial. It even breaks unprecedented ground by continuing into another Non-Stop Debate after everyone has already voted. And of course, it culminates with a lot of intense emotion. Even the execution is emotionally satisfying! ..... although I’m not sure if I should count the execution as part of the trial, but hey, still. As far as Dangan trials go, the fifth one in DRV3 is basically a masterpiece.

[1littleshippergirl1]

The First Day

With his worn out backpack over his shoulders, the straps digging into Harry’s skin with how much things he’d stuffed inside, he made his way into the building. There was a large Welcome Back banner over the front entrance. The colorful walls were something he’d greatly missed. The summer holidays weren’t nearly as fun for him, not when he was forced in his cupboard when he wasn’t working on his chores. Harry disliked his outdoor chores the most because not only would the heat be unbearable at times, but the faint noise of kids his age shrieking happily whilst they played would reach his ears, reminding him of how he couldn’t have fun like that.

But it didn’t matter now.

Now they were back in school and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had to let him out. He was in Year Four and felt very grown up. He’d even grown an inch or two since last year so that meant he didn't need to use the foot stool to use the water fountain anymore. He was thoroughly glad because his height was one of the many reasons Dudley and his friends made fun of him. But it wasn’t his fault he was so much shorter. Maybe his parents had been short, too.

Harry was lost within his own thoughts. He didn’t see a foot coming out of nowhere. Consequently, he tripped and let out a squeak of alarm. He face planted right on the marble tile. Behind him, there was some laughter. Harry’s face scrunched up in pain, slowly sitting back up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the culprit: Piers. Piers was one of Dudley’s friends who often came around and was extra mean to Harry for no reason.

“Better watch your step, Potter,” Piers jeered.

Dudley came into Harry's vision next. “Good one,” he laughed like it was supposed to be clever.

Harry pulled his knee up close, grimacing. It was skinned already, bleeding a little, too. He glared up at them with as much intensity as an eight year old could muster. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Dudley and Piers made faces, imitating his words in exaggerated voices.

“That isn’t very nice! Oooh!”

“Stop it!” Harry didn’t like being mocked.

“Stop it!” They repeated in sync. “Stop it!”

Piers snuck a mischievous glance over at Dudley, snatching Harry’s glasses right off his face.

Harry jumped to his feet. “Give those back!”

“Give those back!” Piers mocked him.

“I mean it! They’re mine !” Harry’s heart quickened. He hoped Piers would give them back before the bell would ring. He couldn’t go through the rest of the day without them.

“Now, now, where are you manners?” Piers teased. “Didn’t anybody teach you some?’

“Nah,” Dudley chimed in, “he’s an orphan. He didn’t have anybody to teach him.”

They laughed.

Harry did not.

Piers turned to Dudley, grinning wickedly. “What should I do with ‘em?”

“Break them!” Dudley burst out gleefully.

“No!” Harry erupted.

“Mum and Dad won’t get him another,” Dudley told Piers.

“Please, Piers, don’t do it!”

“What’s in it for me?” Piers twirled the glasses in his hand.

“I don’t know,” Harry looked desperate. He’d be willing to do just about anything so he could see properly again. “What do you want?”

“Gimme your lunch,” Piers ordered.

Harry’s body slumped. “My lunch? But what am I gonna eat?”

Piers shrugged, holding his hands behind his back and trying to pull off a sad look on his face. “I guess you don’t want your glasses after all.... ”

He started to walk away. “No, wait!” Harry said quickly. He clumsily rummaged through his backpack through his blurry vision, coming across the plain brown sack he had his lunch in. “Here.”

Piers’ eyes widened greedily. He tossed the glasses to the side, eagerly digging through to see what goodies were inside. He threw out whatever he wasn’t interested in eating, which ended up being a plain turkey sandwich and a tiny bottle of water. “What’s the big idea?” He demanded. “Where’s all the good stuff?”

“He can’t have any,” Dudley jeered. “Freaks don't get sweets.”

Harry finally found his glasses. He got up and while he kept his eyes to the floor, he said bravely, “I’m not a freak.”

“Yeah you are!” Dudley insisted. “Mum and Dad says so!”

“You mean say so,” Harry quietly corrected.

Dudley didn’t like that all much. He shoved Harry to the ground, much to the amusement of the gathering crowd. They laughed at him when he went crashing to the floor on his back. It sent pain up his spine. “Freak!” His cousin shouted.

It got the other kids to chant as well. “Freak! Freak! Freaky boy!”

Harry hurryingly grabbed his backpack and his lunch items that Piers threw to the floor, pushing past the crowd as he went to his classroom. The laughter became distant after a while, but it still hurt nonetheless.

///

Harry went inside the colorful classroom. There were posters all over the walls, some were for measurements, others were for maps and reminders for how to make a sentence with the right punctuation or if one needed to know how to not make a run-on sentence. He stood near the door, glancing around. The desks were close to each other and oh! They had lids that lifted up where you could put your things inside!

“Hello there,” A pretty lady with soft looking light brown hair and a sweet smile came over to him. She had on a bright yellow dress and her hair was curly and bouncy on her shoulders. “I’m Miss Kelli. What’s your name?”

“Harry Potter,” Harry said shyly.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Harry,” Miss Kelli smiled. ‘Why don’t you take a seat? We’ll get started shortly. You can sit anywhere you like.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded and surveyed the room. Most of the seats were empty except for one desk that was next to the large window that faced the playground. A boy was sitting there all alone. His clothes were worn, like somebody had already had them before he did. His hair was dark brown, almost black like Harry’s own hair and he seemed to be frowning. Maybe he was upset because no one was sitting with him?

He went right over to him with a beaming smile on his face. The boy looked up. He didn’t say anything, he only stared. “Hi I’m Harry!” Harry extended his hand but the boy did not shake it. “What’s your name?”

The boy still didn’t speak.

“Did you hear me?” Harry tilted his head. Maybe he needed to be louder. “I said my name is Harry. What’s-”

“I heard you,” the boy said, annoyed.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say anything, then?”

“I didn’t want to,” The boy said coolly.

“You don’t have to be mean,” Harry frowned. “I was only asking.”

“Well don’t ,” The boy glared at him as if he caused all the problems in the world. Kinda like how Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did.

“What’s going on here?” Miss Kelli came by, looking down at them, namely the boy, sternly. “Are you two getting along?”

Harry didn’t want the boy to get in trouble on the first day, even if he was a grouch. “We’re fine, Miss Kelli, honest.”

“You didn’t sound fine,” she wasn’t convinced. “Tom, you sounded upset. What’s wrong?”

So that’s what the boy’s name was.

Tom crossed his arms, another scowling coming out. “I’m fine,” he ground out.

“Tom, we don’t talk to people like that,” Miss Kelli said patiently. She pointed to a poster to the left of them, it was all about how to express yourself in a positive and helpful manner. “Do you see that over there? When you’re feeling angry, you need to take a deep breath and try to focus on something else. You don’t take it out on other people, okay?”

Tom huffed out a puff of air. “Fine.”

Miss Kelli said a few more things before she went back to her own desk. Harry stood there feeling awkward, like he was intruding on something. He waited until the teacher was gone to say anything else. “M’sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

Tom spared him a two second look. Then he went back to looking down at the wooden desk.

“Can I sit down?” Harry asked, tentatively inching his way closer. Tom didn’t respond. But he also didn’t move or explicitly say no, so he took that as encouragement to sit down. “Are you new?” He decided to ask while taking out the materials he needed for the day. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“No,” Tom said shortly.

“Really?” Harry was surprised. “Oh.”

A moment later, he had another question. “Were you in Miss Isobel’s class?”

The younger years were separated into two, sometimes three different classrooms depending on how big the year was. Harry’s year had lots of students so there were three classrooms for fourth years. They all had different schedules so that was likely why he didn’t notice Tom until now. It was strange, though; usually someone stayed with that same group until they were finished with primary school. They weren’t moved to another group unless they'd done something really bad. Tom didn’t look bad. He seemed harmless.

“Or Mr. Kenny’s?”

“So what if I was?” Tom grumbled.

“Why are you in this class then?”

“None of your business,” Tom told him.

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

Harry got quiet after that. That’s what Uncle Vernon said during the rare times when he broke the Dursleys rule of asking a question.

///

“We should be friends,” Harry declared during art class. Miss Kelli took them to another room filled with artwork on the walls, easels in the corners and smocks hanging up to wear over their clothes. The easels were placed in rows and they were to sit at one next to their desk partner. They were allowed to paint whatever they wanted.

Tom was using a tiny brush dipped in green paint. He’d made a giant snake and was currently working on the scales. He paused, looking just like Aunt Petunia, as if he’d swallowed something unpleasant. “What?”

“We should be friends,” Harry smiled.

“No,” Tom said bluntly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

“But why ?”

Tom gripped the brush much harder than before.

////

Tom was sitting alone at lunch. Just like in Miss Kelli’s room, he saw at the table that was furthest from everyone. Even though he declined Harry’s suggestion that they be friends, he was still going to try. Maybe Tom was having a bad day. No one talked to him at all. It was like Harry's situation, only this wasn’t because Dudley had scared the other kids. People just seem to naturally avoid Tom.

Poor Tom

Harry felt bad for him. He must have definitely been lonely. That only proved to him that Tom needed a friend. He couldn’t be by himself forever! So he made his way over there. He tried to be quick about it; Dudley was coming into peripheral vision.

“Hey freak !”

Harry sat on the bench, doing his best to ignore his cousin. “Hi,” he said.

Tom stared.

“I told you I didn’t want to be your friend.”

“Okay,” Harry said instead of arguing with him. “But I have nowhere to sit. Can I sit here.”

Tom muttered something he didn’t quite catch.

“Where’s your lunch?” Harry peered at him, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

Tom glowered at him.

It dawned on Harry in that minute. “Do you not have any lunch?”

Tom crossed his arms, his gaze wandering elsewhere. The faintest hint of red appeared in his cheeks.

“Do you want some of mine?” Harry offered. “I haven’t got much, only a sandwich and water. But you can have half of it.”

Tom looked like he didn’t believe him. Not until Harry unevenly tore the sandwich in half. He gave the bigger piece to Tom, who had a flash of surprise on his face. He hadn’t expected to be given anything. Harry glanced around, wondering how he could give Tom some water. He spotted a stack of plastic cups on a wheeling cart not too far from them. “You should get one of those,” he said. “I’ll give you some water.”

“Why?” Tom narrowed his eyes.

Harry blinked innocently. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

A few seconds passed by.

Tom got up to fetch the cup. He dropped the cup in front of Harry, watching determinedly as if to ensure that he was actually going to oit. And he did; he poured half of it into the cup and slid it back to Tom.

He didn't immediately dig in like Harry thought he would. In fact, he was just looking at it. Like it was some strange object.

“Do you not like it?” Harry asked. “I don’t have anything else but I can see if I can bring something different tomorrow.”

He watched as Tom’s eyes lifted from the sandwich to meet his own.

“Why did you give me this?”

“You looked hungry,” Harry said.

“You don’t even know me.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said. “I don’t mind. I’ll share with you tomorrow too if you want.”

Tom seemed like he was pondering his words and then very slowly he took a bite of the sandwich.

////

He didn’t know if he should go up to Tom this time. He was under a tall tree with his knees pulled up to his chest, glancing over at the fence. Harry wanted to; he wanted another chance at talking to him. But the other boy was giving off a feeling that made him reconsider; it was just like when Uncle Vernon had a bad day at work. He would go to his chair after coming back. Aunt Petunia knew better than to disturb and she’d tell Dudley to go find something else to do than watch the telly, which usually upset him until he was promised a new toy or a day full of fun with whatever he wanted to do.

Harry stood in the middle of the playground, watching him. He didn’t see Dudley coming up behind him until it was too late. He was yet again shoved, falling to the ground with one swift swipe. Harry turned on his side, looking up at his cousin with dread filling in his stomach.

“Leave me alone, Dudley,” Harry’s knees were aching.

“Why should I?” Dudley sneered.

“You’re being mean!”

“Aww,” Dudley mocked. “Is the freak gonna cry like a whittle baby?”

“I’m not a baby!” Harry jumped to his feet.

“Yeah you are!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yeah you are!” Dudley said loudly. “You’re a baby! Baby, baby !”

“Stop it!” Harry said hotly.

“Stop it,” Dudley imitated him.

Harry glared as fiercely as he could. He really wanted to wipe that look off his cousin’s face but he didn’t want to be grounded to his cupboard. Instead, he stormed off towards the tree Tom was under. He’d seen the whole thing, evidently. His expression was impassive as Harry plopped down.

“Do you know him?” Tom nodded toward Dudley’s direction.

“He’s my cousin,” Harry scowled for the first time that day. “He hates me.”

Tom only hummed. “He’s stupid,” he said at last. “He still can’t even remember his times tables.”

That brought a smile out of Harry. It was true; Dudley still struggled with previous years’ material. It was one of the reasons why Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia got mad at Harry whenever he did better than Dudley.

Tom’s eyes landed on Harry once again. It made him feel like the other boy was staring deep into his soul or something. “Does he hurt you?”

“Huh?” Harry blinked. “Er, sometimes.”

“Sometimes how ?” Tom said impatiently.

Harry squirmed. He wasn’t supposed to talk about that. “Er, well-”

“Don’t bother lying to me,” Tom said sharply. “I can tell when people are.”

“I wasn’t,” Harry insisted. He fiddled with his hands under the scrutiny of Tom’s gaze. “Er, well, he hits me sometimes...and he has this game he plays with his friends, Harry Hunting.”

Tom arched an eyebrow.

A flush came over Harry’s face. The stare made his fidgeting worse. “They like to chase after me. Once Dudley’s friend Piers....he held my arms and Dudley punched me.” He grimaced, just remembering how painful his stomach was to the touch for weeks after.

Tom’s cold gaze lingered on Dudley, who was a ways away, standing in front of a smaller boy, holding up his fist threateningly. “He’s a coward,” he spat. “Only bloody cowards hit people.”

Harry pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment paper from his pocket and a couple of crayons. He was continuing to work on the picture he’d started this morning during their free time in Miss Kelli’s classroom. He still listened to what Tom was saying.

“-wonder how he’d like it, getting hit back,” Tom said in a scarily calm voice.

Harry’s head snapped in horror. Was Tom going to try and hit Dudley back? He didn’t want him getting hurt. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t! He’d be outnumbered.

“You’re...you’re not going to do anything, are you?”

Tom only smirked.

////

They were released at the end of the day. The younger years had to wait to be picked up by their parents but fourth years could walk home if they wanted to. Harry hurriedly grabbed his things, rushing down the hallway--but not running--so he could catch Tom in time before he left. The entrance doors flew open; he stood at the top of the cobblestone stairs, looking out for him. The sun was shining, a warm shadow coming over his face. He brightened up when he saw Tom at the end of the walkway, about to turn right.

He rushed down there. “Tom! Tom!”

Tom made a face when he saw him but it didn't hurt Harry’s feelings. He came to an abrupt stop in front of him, breathless and panting to re-catch his breath.

“What?” Tom said grumpily. “What do you want now ?”

Harry grinned toothily, but also a bit shyly. “I made you something!”

Tom blinked.

He held it up; it was a stick figure drawing of the both of them. Harry was drawn in red and he colored Tom in bright green. With a hopeful gleam in his eyes, he presented the drawing to him. He rocked on his heels. “Do you like it?”

Tom kept his eyes on the drawing, staring at it in wonder. “You drew this for me?” He demanded.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He pointed to the corner of the paper where Tom’s name was scribbled in. “See? It has your name on it. Well, do you like it?”

“It is...acceptable,” Tom decided on. In a whisper, he added, “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry beamed. “You’re welcome!”

There was a tiny smile on Tom’s face.

Both boys were quiet. The only noise came from the chirping birds, the cars that passed by and the chatter of the other children. That is, until the doors came open again and Dudley ran out. Harry’s hands flew up to his mouth, his shoulders beginning to shake with laughter.

Dudley had a bucket over his head and apparently, he was having difficulty getting it off. “Mummy!” he wailed, running around helplessly. (Harry wondered how he didn’t fall on the stairs). “Mummy, help!” Dudley’s friends tried to run after him, yelling for him to stop so they could help. He did not do that, however. He kept running until he hit a tree and fell right on his back.

Harry laughed.

“Oh, I wonder if he’s alright,” Tom said in a voice that suggested he felt oppositely. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if he was hurt?”

[whisker-biscuit]

Silent as the Grave Chapter 4: A Story for the Ages

Fandom: Sly Cooper

Summary: Inspector Pennington recounts a story about Connor Cooper, and a fateful decision is made.

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

Inspector Singh has a million questions on his mind, but he remains quiet as he goes to retrieve the records his partner has requested. That quiet lasts until the heavy folder of paperwork hits their shared work desk with a heavy thump.

“So, you planning on telling me why this particular criminal group is supposed to be related to the Cooper case?”

Francine’s ever-present frown is even more pronounced, and she opens the first labeled tab to pull out four photos. Then she places them side by side on her desk to face her partner and taps the child’s notepad list.

“Tell me what you see.”

Bodie looks across each picture.

A giant green frog in a blue metallic top hat sneers at the camera while adjusting the cuff links of his white gloves. An incredibly muscular bulldog wearing a wife beater and suit pants, caught in a grainy black and white picture from a camera feed as he holds twelve people hostage in a bank robbery. A panda, in only a pair of red pants, has at least five different kinds of fireworks strapped to his back with a separate rocket in his hand aimed right for whoever took the photo. The fourth picture is blurry and an almost intangible mess of colors, but half the head of an alligator with dark curls and a red bandana is recognizable in the bottom left side.

Bodie looks at the scribbled list. Frog. Dog. “Aligater.” Bear. He glances back at the pictures a second time.

“Alright, so four members of the Fiendish Five check out with the species,” the younger inspector says slowly as his mind churns. “And I know they’re an international criminal group, which would put them as potential suspects above a lot of others at least. But what made you think of them first? We’re not usually made to be aware of criminals outside of our assigned targets.”

The elephant has been flipping through the rest of the folder as her partner connected the dots, and she ignores his question until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls it out triumphantly and holds it up.

“Because of this.”

It’s a fifth photo of the fifth member – but all Bodie can see is a vague bird-shaped silhouette against a darkened sky. He raises an eyebrow.

“Who is that supposed to be?”

“Clockwerk.”

“And…am I supposed to know this name?”

Francine sighs, exasperated, and rubs the space between her eyes with her trunk. “Why couldn’t they assign me someone who actually knows the Cooper case?”

“You’re the one who knows the Cooper case. I’m here because it was a double homicide with a witness, and Interpol needed info on the perps as soon as possible.” The sun bear plops into his desk chair like he hasn’t a care in the world, but there’s ice in his tone. “Which I got. So enlighten me, Ms. Expert. Who is Clockwerk and why does it matter so much?”

His partner shakes her head, having quietly accepted that winning this argument would get them nowhere. “Clockwerk is the fifth member and leader of the Fiendish Five, and the only reason we know that for sure is because of a three-way confrontation between us, him, and Connor Cooper about six or seven years ago.”

Bodie leans forward to grab the silhouette photo. He squints at it and makes a ‘go on’ motion with his hand. Francine rolls her eyes.

“I was leading a team to catch Cooper in the act of a heist, because we received an anonymous tip that matched up with his M.O. and his activity was starting to peter out around that time. Actually, that –” she snatches Sly’s birth certificate up and scans it, then grunts. “Yeah, that coincides with his child’s birth almost perfectly.”

“So, Cooper got busy and then realized he wanted to be a family man.”

“Not quite. He and his gang were still doing heists, just more sporadic. This one was his last big one though, because there was a run-in with the Fiendish Five that neither of us expected.”

“What makes you think he didn’t expect it? Cooper’s been known to drag other criminals into his messes all the time, right?”

“He didn’t expect it because Clockwerk almost killed him,” Francine states grimly. She steeples her fingers together to prop her mouth against them. “He was stealing from this massive corporation that had just unearthed the fabled Rockhopper Crusoe treasure in Chile, and I was laying in wait for him on the specific ship that was transporting it. Sure enough, he showed up along with his muscle man, Jim McSweeney, that very night. I was with a squad of four and we were less than a second away from revealing ourselves, when the sky went dark.”

The elephant pauses, expression glazing over in a memory for just a moment before returning to the present.

“It was Clockwerk. He was so big that hovering right over us blocked out the moon.”

“What happened?” Bodie asks, riveted by the story and surprised by the fact that he is.

“Chaos happened – my team and I watched as this massive, massive bird swooped down and made a grab for Cooper with his talons. The man barely got out of the way in time and so they went right through the hull of the ship instead. That was easily a meter of pure steel, pierced in one single blow. It was…it was terrifying.”

Francine has been through many close calls and brushed up against death more than once. But that moment, witnessing someone so monstrous in size, strength, and killing intent, had brought out a primal fear that she never even knew she had. It had been one of the most terrifying moments of the inspector’s life and she hadn’t even been the target of the great bird’s hatred.

She shakes off the shivers running up her spine and continues. “Of course, we had to make ourselves known right then because the ship started sinking, and we were afraid that Clockwerk would either kill Cooper or kill us unintentionally in his attempts to. The crew came up on deck too to see what was going on, and it was pandemonium. People were shouting and shooting and god knows what else.

“I still went after Cooper, because he was my target first and foremost. He and his crony were booking it for the far side of the ship – no doubt their getaway boat was that way – and I ran after them until Clockwerk landed right in front of the two.”

Bodie whistles. “How close were you?”

“I was behind Cooper and McSweeney about…probably about five meters or so. Close enough I could hear them talking.”

“They started talking? Just having a pleasant chat after the guy almost crushes his skull?”

“It was the farthest thing from pleasant, I can assure you.” Francine says flatly. “But to sum it up, Cooper called Clockwerk by name, asked him what he’d ‘been up to lately’, and the bird said he’d started assembling his own team.”

“The Fiendish Five.”

“Yes, although we didn’t have that name at the time.” The Chief Inspector picks up the photo of Clockwerk, almost clutching it to her chest in the way she examines it. “Clockwerk said one last thing before taking off, and I was too preoccupied with trying to stop Cooper and his crony from escaping to give it much thought at the time.

“He said, and I quote: ‘I look forward to meeting him.’ With the way both Cooper and McSweeney reacted, I’d thought he was referring to the third Cooper Gang member, Dr. Zaroff Mandrill, since he mostly worked on the technical aspects and almost never went into the field.”

They both look down at the homework assignment with the drawing of the silhouetted bird blocking out the moon.

“Do you think he told the kid?” Bodie asks after a long, shared silence.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why he’d ever have a reason to, but Cooper never ran by any logic I could follow.”

The sun bear sits back in his chair to stare at the ceiling in contemplation. “Well, even if the kid didn’t know about Clockwerk, Clockwerk sure knew about the kid. Wonder if he would’ve left him alone if he knew where he was in that house.”

“He had a grudge against Cooper strong enough for murder, and there’s a whole slew of heinous crimes credited to the Fiendish Five. I wouldn’t put pedicide past any of them.”

“So…what do we do?” Bodie eyes the homework assignment again.

“I’m going to start by opening an official investigation into Cooper’s murder. Publicly, we’ll announce that we’re looking into every conceivable source of the slaughter without mentioning the Fiendish Five at all. If they find out they’re the primary suspects, they’ll know someone was close enough to identify them. However, some of these criminal groups consider it an honor to have taken other high-profile groups out, so with any luck one of the Five will announce that they were the ones behind it. It won’t help us much in pinning them down to arrest, but it would be hard evidence for a long sentence at least.”

Francine writes out the plan as she says it, already making notes about who and what she’s going to get involved in the investigation. Inspector Singh starts taking his own memo.

“Leave the PR to me, I know how to spin a crowd and tease out the information we want released.”

“Fine. Good.” The elephant pauses, then points her pen at her partner. “Do not bring up Cooper’s child in any interviews or statements. Even if the Five weren’t planning on killing him too, it’ll be dangerous for knowledge of him to get out. Cooper’s old gang are still at large and they might whisk the boy off. That’s not even mentioning the countless other enemies Cooper has made through the years who might want their own form of revenge.”

“I’m already one step ahead of you,” he replies easily. “How’s this for a headline? Cooper Family Found Slain in American Suburb, Culprits Unknown. It’s the truth, we won’t have to mention the kid, and no one will be the wiser.”

She only grunts in response, her trunk pressed against her chin as she stares at the family information and tries to figure out what they’re going to do about the surviving child.

“We need to make him disappear completely,” the older inspector says softly. Bodie looks up, confused, and she clarifies. “Cooper’s son. He still needs to go somewhere. We can’t keep him in that hospital forever.”

Bodie follows her gaze to the stack of official documents on the desk. His eyes alight on the marriage certificate and a specific name jumps out.

Charlotte James-Cooper. James-Cooper. James.

“Then we won’t. We’ll give him a new identity and drop him off somewhere inconspicuous. No fuss, no media attention, just treat him like any other kid who’s in the system.” He taps a pencil to his snout. “Honestly, we don’t even really need to check up on him either. We already have the suspect list from him and I doubt there’ll be a will anyone can track since Interpol is going to seize all of Cooper’s assets. Maybe if the investigation runs cold or we need every gruesome detail of the attack, but that’s the only thing I can think of.”

Francine gives him a hard look. “You just don’t want to deal with him again.”

“You’re the one that said it out loud, not me.”

“Knock it off with the games. I hate games.” She shakes her head and turns back to her work. “Do we have a name for the boy? The sooner I can get legal documents made the better.”

“Sure do!” He points out the dead woman’s name with a grin. “Sylvester James. Close enough to make the paperwork easier but far enough that it won’t be immediately recognizable for anyone really looking.”

“That’s…actually not bad,” the elephant concedes.

“I have my moments.”

She adds the new name on her computer system, then stops. “The only issue with this plan is if the boy starts spouting off about his identity to people.”

“Francine, that kid is as silent as his dad’s corpse. I have a good feeling he’s not going to blab. And even if he does, people will think it’s just his imagination. Kid loses both his parents in a terrible accident, he happens to be a raccoon, and coincidentally Connor Cooper himself has been found slain in the same town. It will just look like this kid wants attention, closure, or both. The end.”

She can’t fault his logic, and so the separate requests are made to open a homicide investigation for Connor Cooper and create the needed documents for one Sylvester James. With finality, Chief Inspector Pennington sends both requests to their supervisor. Then she turns to her partner.

“It’s done. From now on, what happened in this office is classified information. No one can know the connection between this case and Sylvester.”

Detective Inspector Singh gives a single nod, more serious than he’s been the entire last day and a half.

“For all intents and purposes, Sly Cooper doesn’t exist.”

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

A/N: Well that statement won't backfire spectacularly lmao

This story is no longer dead! I can't believe it's been over a year and a half, and I honestly don't have any excuse beyond that I just....wasn't as interested in Sly for a while. Luckily for all of us, the interest is back full force and I have evening and weekend free time to actually write now! Hooray!

Apologies to everyone who waited patiently for this fic to update. You deserve a lot better, but I will try to make it up to you.Next chapter we'll get to see how the decisions made here affect Sly, and maybe get some outside perspective on things ;)

[ngame989]

Just Enough - a Starco oneshot

Star and Marco reflect on their past, explore something new in the present, and look forward to the future while celebrating a special occasion.

AO3 / FFnet

Hey Tumblr, I’m finally back at it again, taking a break from my usual analytical writing with some creative writing instead. If you’re in the mood for romantic sweetness that’ll buy your dentist a new yacht, this is the place to be. This piece was inspired in large part by the anniversary of the premiere of SVTFOE, the recent Blood Moon, and an absolutely divine piece of fanart from the fantastically talented @cheeriel (both the art and fic are the slightest touch risqué, so progress at your own risk). Hope you enjoy!

“Hey, Star, hold on a minute.” Marco mumbled out, his breath tickling her ear as she continued her trail of light kisses up the side of his neck. Star leaned back just far enough to give him an inquisitive look while remaining comfortably in his lap on her bed.

“Oh corn, is this too much? I just figured, y’know- I thought tonight might be good to, um- to try something new.” The last thing Star wanted was to take things at a tempo that made either uncomfortable, especially with how new this all was to them. She’d already taken the initiative once tonight, and it was going well so far - a fact she was reminded of when her nerves were set alight by Marco’s hands delicately stroking the skin of her back.

Marco’s own sense of love focused far less on the physical than many, he knew that, but it didn’t escape him that Star was beautiful in every sense of the word. Tonight was a testament to that fact, his breath hitching every time the twinkling light from the night sky highlighted her delicate form. “It’s fine, I’m, uh- this is really nice,” he stammered. Coherent thoughts were a challenge right now, let alone words. Marco was acutely aware of just how close they were, even as he lost himself in their first delicate forays towards something more in their relationship. He couldn’t help but be exceedingly careful about how to sit and where to move and especially where to keep his hands. It was all he could do to just try not to mess it up like a typical Marco, let alone even thinking about what next steps they could take. But Star’s tender kisses and affectionate coos pushed him past his own self-doubt and helped him enjoy this experience that he wanted just as much as she did. He dove forward for a quick peck on the lips to make sure she knew that, too.

“What’s up, then? If this is about your abs again…” Star muttered, recalling their recent conversations on the subject of tonight as she flexed the fingers that had idly burrowed their way under his pajama shirt some time ago. He let out a cross between a giggle and a sigh at her touch, still somewhat ticklish even in times like this.

His arms unwrapped themselves from her back to grab hers in an attempt to stop the affectionate attack. “No, not that either,” he mumbled while still playfully vying for control. She paid careful attention to the glimmer of joy in his brown eyes, the loving smile that always seemed just a little bit wider when it was reserved for her, and the characteristic little breaks in his composure as their intimacy mingled with goofy antics. This was far from her first time noticing these things before, but this was fairly new to them. Like anything else in their relationship, they were just taking it as it came, trying to do what they felt right. There were times this had led them to mistakes and hurt feelings (and there would be more in the future, they knew), but the unearthly – no, nothing on Mewni could compare either, Star decided – sensations electrifying her produced a certainty that tonight wasn’t one of them. Satisfied for the moment, she finally relented and let her hands go limp, resting them flush against his chest.

“Well, good, because you know I’ll love you either way,” she stated earnestly, but her eyes still stole a quick glance down to the sliver of torso still exposed by her ministrations. “Buuuuut while we’re on the subject… I like what I see,” she purred. Marco had grown just a bit taller and broader lately (though a far cry from in Hekapoo’s dimension) but that was hardly the primary reason she found herself so enthralled with him right now. Definitely a nice bonus, though, she mentally concluded as her blush deepened. She removed herself from his nightshirt, fingers tracing over him like a gentle breeze, and let their still-joined arms fall on her lap.

Marco brought his right hand to her face and caressed her cheek, stopping over the heart emblem. “It’s just that, uh, I think your hearts are glowing. But pink this time,” he added, cutting off the anticipated retort that her marks had glowed in a handful of moments between them in the past.

“Well that’s new,” she muttered, squishing her own face until she finally caught a glimpse, barely distinguishable from the color of her cheeks themselves in the starlight. Her hands gravitated towards Marco’s own face and began poking in much the same way until she identified a dim set of crescent moons, practically visible only by their outlines, etched into it.

All of a sudden, a cool breeze nipped at her stomach and legs, eliciting a shiver. Was this new or had she just not noticed it when she was in Marco’s embrace? He was obviously less affected by it, as evidenced by his confusion when she glanced around the room until she found the culprit: the balcony entrance’s wintertime door had cracked open. More curious than that, though, was the faint red hue seeping through.

“Star?” The slightest irrational apprehension that he’d spoiled the moment rose in his mind until he managed to locate the object of her gaze. When she wordlessly removed herself from their embrace, he was already reaching behind him for Star’s nightdress and handing it to her. The pair slipped outside and found the culprit, the ever-mysterious Blood Moon up above.

“Woah,” she gasped, transfixed by the dim glow. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen that.”

“Yeah,” he assented, moving forward to stand beside her as they leaned on the nearby crenellation. How many times had it shined down on them that he hadn’t noticed? Or did it even have an intrinsic special meaning? After all, blood moons were a common thing on Earth. As a kid, Marco really hadn’t thought much of it - there’d been a total lunar eclipse centered on California when he was 9 or 10, and his parents had found an old telescope in their shed. Dad had said that sometimes he’d take a look into the sky to see if any random pattern of stars might provide inspiration for his next artwork; Marco thought it was cool, but he recalled his younger self’s skepticism that a star could be so inspiring. If I only knew, he laughed to himself. His thoughts were suddenly turned away from the sky above as he felt a chill that seemed to permeate him to the bone. “Stupid Mewni and its dumb cold winters,” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around himself in a feeble attempt to protect his body heat. This didn’t escape the notice of his girlfriend, her hands starting to shine with magic.

Star closed her eyes and focused; her wandless magic had improved rapidly, but softer, more nuanced spells which didn’t involve lightning and explosions and adorable fantasy creatures still took some extra concentration. “Toasty Thermo Tidal Wave,” she confidently intoned, feeling an energy vibrate through her body and melt away the chill of the night.

Marco closed his eyes and relaxed, expecting a hit of warmth to console him as well. After a few seconds of nothing but a faint prickle of heat coming from her direction, he was met with one of her signature innocent-looking grins; he was familiar enough with the nuances to know this was anything but. “Star, you can make that spell bigger, right?”

“I could,” she trilled, her half-lidded cerulean eyes never breaking contact with his own, “but where’s the fun in that?” Marco rolled his eyes and stepped over, catching her when she practically tossed herself backwards into his arms. He felt the heat wash over him now, lulling him once more into contentedness as he chuckled at her antics. They silently stared at the moon above, thoughts swirling through their heads as the now-soothing air and the gentle warmth of their closeness kept them comfortable in the chilly night. This was, of course, only a temporary refuge from the struggles and sorrows of the real world beyond the boundaries of their little tryst, but it meant the world to Star all the same. She had once said she needed him by her side in times of peace and danger, but for a while, life and feelings and heartbreak had gotten in the way of at least some of that for both of them. Perhaps, even through all of that, she’d still always known it was true, but times like this with her in his arms (or vice versa) taught her how prophetic those words truly were. “They say humans don’t have magic, but you might have the real warming spell, Diaz,” she teased, snuggling even deeper into his embrace and intertwining one of her hands with his own.

His heart swelled as her affection and reassurance as it always had and always would. “Mmm. Please don’t turn it off, though.” She giggled at his request; she wasn’t going to, either way.

Another few minutes of silence transpired before she spoke up again. “Whaddya think it means, Marco?”

“That I don’t want to freeze to death out here?”

“Not the spell, silly. Although at least they’d find our corpsicles hugging so they’d know we were ‘friends’.” She made air quotes and snorted on the last word; she wasn’t the only one who had been oblivious to the dissonance in their words and actions in the past. “I meant that,” she finished, pointing at the moon above them.

“Oh. Well, I guess there’s the cheekmarks-”

“Besides the magic stuff,” she huffed out, sounding more annoyed than she intended. “Like, what does it mean for us? It’s supposed to ‘bind our souls for all eternity’ or something.”

He pretty quickly figured out the hidden anxiety buried in this line of thinking and mulled over the proper words to say, rubbing her hand in comfort. After a tense few seconds, he took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s like you being Queen.”

“Uh, what? Are you getting hypothermia or something?”

“No, no, hear me out. When I first met you, you already knew what your future was gonna be, and it freaked you out for a while. And a lot of stuff with that has changed since then, but you’ve become an amazing person who cares about monsters and Mewmans and everyone in between and just wants to do your part to help however you can. So sure, maybe someone did tell you you were gonna be Queen, but pretty much everything you’ve done with it came from your own genuine compassion and care, so does that really matter too much?”

She exhaled and kept her gaze fixed longingly on the hypnotic ruby brodum above. “No, I guess not.”

He shifted a bit and turned her chin so they were looking at each other. “Maybe that’s how the whole Blood Moon thing works, then. It’s not dictating our future, but just… showing us the potential that’s already there. Not forcing us to do anything, but ‘choosing’ us because we already had something special, because we’d always have each other’s backs and work through stuff together. The moon definitely isn’t why I do those things,” he stated with a finality, resting his forehead on hers.

“Same here,” she beamed at him, feeling even more intimate with him now than in their prior activities. Some dark part of her deep in her gut would never be sure that she deserved his love and support, that it must’ve been given to her for some other reason, but he was always more than willing to prove it wrong. She leaned forward for a kiss and he met her in the middle, deeper than even most of their kisses so far this evening, before finally pulling away. With as much compassion as she could fit into her voice, she sighed out, “Thanks, Marco.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, wait a minute, is it midnight yet?”

A little magic clock, in the shape of some sort of rainbow bird, appeared in her hand. “About quarter after,” she answered evenly, before she caught the implications of his words. Her eyes widened as she looked over her shoulder, beaming at him before nuzzling into his cheek. “Our friendship-aversary!” Maybe it was weird to get so excited over it, but they still were, after all, best friends above all else even if some other labels applied now, too.

Marco nodded into her shoulder. “Best two years of my life.” Even with the tension, the near-death experiences, and the practically monthly existential crises, he wouldn’t trade it for anything that any dimension had to offer. He’d fought monsters, gallivanted around the universe, even cast magic in times of grave danger, and it was all because of the girl in front of him. In the back of his mind, rationally, he knew that it was unfair to give himself so little credit; he had grown into someone bold and confident when he needed to be, like he’d always dreamed of. But like everything else, this doubt itself was also mended by Star: the “I need you”s, the “I’ve got you”s and, more recently, the “I love you”s lifted his spirits more than any of spells or summons or wings could.

Star found herself yawning as this level of relaxation progressed naturally to drowsiness. “Guess it’s about that time, huh?” she drawled, wiggling her way out of Marco’s hold and turning to face him, still holding one of his hands.

“We’ve got meetings through most of the morning and afternoon tomorrow, so we should get some rest, yeah,” he grumbled. They had dinner plans on Earth tomorrow for the occasion, but Marco still felt a pang of guilt that there wasn’t time to set up anything else special. She was so much more to him than his girlfriend that this occasion, in turn, seemed to have a gravity to it unlike any other. Star had told him it was fine, but he made it a whole thing and they’d both gotten a bit miffed over it; at least that had happened well before the day itself. He reluctantly started to make his way back inside, mixed emotions over the wonderful night they’d shared and the prospect of it having to end so soon simmering in his head, but was stopped short not far into her room when her hand held his in place.

“Hey,” she called, causing him to turn back around. “This was perfect, Marco. I know we can’t always get time to do whatever we want, but stuff like this means more to me than I even know how to say.”

Marco smiled bashfully and looked away before his face morphed into a slight grimace. He swallowed hard, willing himself to speak before his mind could overthink the words into oblivion. “Can I stay with you tonight?” Star sputtered a bit and couldn’t vocalize a response right away. “I- uh, I mean, just- just sleeping. It felt really good being so, um, close to you and I don’t want it to end and-”

“I’d love that,” she quickly sputtered to end his nervous rambling, her voice sounding much less confident than her mind was.

He raised an eyebrow at her rapid response, his mind whirring with worries. “What about the guards? What about your parents? I think River might strangle me with my own limbs if he walked in...”

Star sat down on the bed, adjusting the pillows and blankets to make it comfortable for the two of them. “Yeah, you have a point. We’ll have to be careful to wake up extra early in the morning, then, to make sure we can get you out of here before anyone notices. Worst comes to worst, I’ll just use my Butterfly Form and toss you through a portal!” she joked, beckoning him to join her. “And between you and me, I’d be more worried about Mom.”

“Noted,” he squeaked out. Marco gave her a lopsided grin and rubbed the back of his neck before lying down beside her. They initially kept a bit of distance as their tender comfortability from earlier warred with their respective anxieties over this even newer situation. One side finally seemed to win when she stirred him from his thoughts, taking the lead once more and pulled him into her arms. He yawned and reciprocated the embrace, sharing one last languid kiss before she tucked her head next to his chin, their legs naturally tangling themselves up together under the blanket.

In the haze at the threshold of dreams, Marco was pretty sure he heard a mumbled “Love you, Marco”. When he responded “Love you too, Star,” she had already fallen asleep with a wide smile and a dimly glowing pair of hearts, and he soon joined her with a matching pair of moons for what would be the most content slumber either ever had.

...and when Moon found them in the morning, any plans to chastise Star for being late to breakfast were dashed in an instant as she carefully closed the door with a knowing smirk.

[rontra]

do you have any recommendations on how to like. Take In Umineko. I think it looks really cool and I’d like to get into it, but there’s a lot of things that are confusing (like all of the different games, the manga, the anime, ect.) and I’m not really sure where to start watching/reading it. Do you have any advice on where the best place to start is?

HOH BABY NOW THIS IS A GOOD ASK

Basically, a lot of this depends on you and how you prefer to take in media. People are different after all; some people like reading long novels, some prefer comics, u know! So let’s just go over all the avenues and how to get at them, and the rest is up to you!

I’m gonna make this post very long. VERY VERY LONG. IM SO FUCKn SORyr

First, I’ll talk abt what umineko is; then I’ll discuss the various media; finally, at the end, I’ll write down what I typically recommend to newcomers! SCROLL REALLY FAST TO THE HEADERS IF U HAVE NO TIME FOR MY RAMBLING LOL

So…here we goooo

READING UMINEKO: UNTANGLING THE WEB

OR: what the fuck is umineko and why do you want me to read it, diesel?

Since this is a general To Whom It May Concern post: Umineko no Naku Koro ni (Or Umineko: When They Cry, alternatively When The Seagulls Cry) is a murder mystery/fantasy/metafiction visual novel published between 2007 and 2011. I know “murder mystery” and “metafiction” sound pretty boring when you combine them, but trust me–Umineko’s unlike anything you’ve seen, and defies explanation. Still, I’m here to do my best!

Umineko is about a rich and complicated family, and their annual family conference–and the year it goes super duper badly. On an isolated island, in the middle of a typhoon, tragedy befalls the family–on a massive scale! Someone is killing them–all of them–and the only answer that seems to be rising is–

“Beatrice did it.”

But Beatrice isn’t supposed to really exist. Not for real!! No one by that name is on the island. It’s just a story! She’s made up–Beatrice is a legend. A witch who has lived for a thousand years–who loaned the family patriarch ten tons of gold, an insane amount of wealth, in exchange for his soul. Now she’s collecting on that loan, taking everything back, with interest–the lives of the family included.

Is the culprit a human, or not? Does the witch exist, or not?Is the culprit one of the 18 people? Does a 19th person exist? Or…?And, most importantly–when the typhoon passes, will anyone remain alive on the island?

[YouTube: Umineko opening]

I’d super-recommend Umineko if you enjoy: strong characterization, a solidly built mystery (with plenty of smaller mysteries to try your brain with along the way ;) ), complex and nuanced characters, hype magic fights, Logic-Based Combat(???), deep discussions of trauma and its consequences, large casts of characters, Genre Fuckery, coping, Meta™, and milfs Complex Lore

I would, however, NOT recommend Umineko if you are triggered by/can’t stomach reading about: body horror, gore, death, trauma, child abuse, bullying, discussion of suicide, discussion of sexual assault, etc (you can message me for a more complete list of warnings; I’m happy to provide super-specific ones if there’s something specific you’re concerned about, or even give you specific scenes to watch out for. I kept this vague on purpose, but if you message me off anon or via DMs here or at @aceyasu, I’ll be happy to answer anything!)

Overall it’s a pretty dark, emotional story, with a lot of Themes™–but it’s also full of love and genuine heartfelt Feelings. I don’t think any story has touched me the way Umineko has! Of course, everyone’s experience is very unique to them, but I think Umineko has something for everyone (provided, of course, that we’re taking into account the content warnings and excluding people who can’t/don’t want to encounter those things!). The characters, music, story and message–it all has a lot of heart and it all is very important to me as an individual. Obviously no media is flawless, but I think Umineko’s good outweighs its bad…YMMV though of course :p

Also, hype magic fights.

OKAY WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY

Umineko’s story is told over 8 arcs–styled as “episodes”. I use “arc” and “episode” sort of interchangeably! Specific ones I just call “EP#” though. All you really need to know though is there’s 8 of them, of varying length, and you have to read them all for the full story.

Thankfully they’re numbered, am i right?? HAFDmgkdfmg

Each episode has its own focus within the overarching narrative and comes with its own fun mysteries and harrowing developments just for you! yay! But basically, the important thing is that they’re divided into the Question Arcs (1-4) and Answer Arcs (5-8).

Sometimes, to make things confusing, the Answer Arcs are also called “Core Arcs” or “Chiru”. I will use “Answer Arcs” here, but if you encounter those two elsewhere, that’s what they are. :p

ACTUALLY EXPERIENCING UMINEKO

(now that im done YAPPING)

The anime

Generally viewed as a poor product. It’s a bad adaption that fails as a standalone, too, because of the amount of important scenes that are missing. Don’t watch the anime first if you really want to get into Umineko. It’s a fun watch once you know how it’s supposed to go, though :p Covers the Question Arcs only, ends with EP4–so even if it was good, it would only be half the story… press f to pay respects. The opening fuckin slaps though, and all the VAs are solid.

The manga

Each Episode has its own manga adaption, usually done by a different artist (with exception of EP1, EP3, and EP8, which are all by the same artist). Generally solid; gets the most important parts. For people who want to get through quicker, the manga helps a lot.

The primary cost is that a lot of characterization doesn’t get to shine AS bright, as there’s simply no time to get into the nooks and crannies (still a great cast, though). However, the art is usually fantastic–since the artist changes every EP, it’s easy to deal with even if you don’t like a specific one’s style. It’ll be gone by next Episode!

A lot of moments get punched up by the more visual format of the manga. You really get a better sense of the characters interacting physically with one another! You do, however, run into the Scanlation Problem…..

I know, I know–most people, when given the option to, don’t want to pay for things. So when given the choice between fan scanlations and the official release, a lot of people would choose the scanlations. And they’re fine…for the most part…except for the parts that aren’t. Some parts (notably in the Answer Arcs) are…bad. Really bad. Even I can’t really understand it sometimes, despite knowing this story inside out… LOL

If you’re good at parsing Scanlation SNAFU or can’t afford/don’t want to buy it, you can find Umineko on MOST manga hosts! I don’t know which you prefer so I’m not gonna link ‘em hahahafkgmfh I usually use Manga Rock but that’s because I usually am reading on my phone and I like their app. The episodes are all numbered, so it’s pretty easy to find your way around!

On the other hand, if you have a hard time understanding poor translations, reading inconsistent typesetting/fonts, or simply Can afford it/prefer buying media, the manga is being officially released in English by YenPress! As is standard nowadays, you can get them in both physical volumes and digital e-books! However, YenPress’ release is currently ongoing–the first volume of EP8 is slated to release in March.

[YenPress link]

The visual novel

Ah, here we are–the head honcho himself…! This is the original version of Umineko. These are the ones we call “games”, and why we sometimes say u “play” Umineko, but. Really. It’s just reading. They’re kinetic novels. Its literally just reading. So I don’t know why we complicate things like that.

(“if she an .exe, shes a game”, I guess… xD)

This is where the characterization and voice of Umineko really shines! The style is often simple to read, sometimes even comically casual, but it cuts deep when it wants to. Even really simple lines can have a really strong impact–it’s a really pleasant style to read, IMO…pretty easy to understand most of the time, but emotionally resonant all the same!

Reading the VN is somewhat of an undertaking, because of the amount of hours required…It’s a far longer read. Depending on your reading speed and whether or not you pause to think/talk about things as you read, people clock in 100-200 hours to finish it.

But, on the upside–because it has so much more time than the manga, the VN can really get deep into the characters, their dynamics, and their inner conflicts. You really get a deep sense for everyone’s character and it makes most of the cast feel fleshed-out enough that you appreciate all of them to some extent (whether positive or negative :P)

Oh, actually–the original Umineko branded itself a “Sound Novel”….as opposed to a Visual Novel, where the emphasis is on, uh–Visuals–Umineko leans more heavily on audio to create its atmosphere. And the music? Fuckin rips!! The Umineko soundtrack is huge and has tons of absolute bangers. It’s easy to see why it decided to market itself as a Sound Novel rather than a visual novel–the graphics of the original PC version are simple, but the atmospheric sound effects and BGM really shines.

Here’s some enticing tracks to pique yr interest (be careful about the comments/etc though, there’s Definitely spoilers in there xD)[worldenddominator] [dead angle] [dir] [system0] [hope]

The VN nowadays is split into the two halves; if you get EP4, it’ll include 1-3 as well, essentially. Picking up Question Arcs (or EP4) and Answer Arcs (or EP8) gives u the whole 8 episodes. Easy peasy! Because we live in the future now, and retroactive inclusion of past games is just convenient!

There is an official English release now, which is a brand new luxury. It’s even on Steam! Wow! That’s the easiest way to get your paws on the hands-on experience. The translation has been slightly updated as well! Also, they added a new set of toggle-able graphics that are…um…I mean they’re certainly new…#BarelyContainedOpinionAlert

If you don’t want to pay or can’t afford it…uhhh….I used to have torrent links but they’re all dead. :T still, you can probably just find them, if you know your way around torrents. For the translation, you’ll have to either get a pre-patched version of the game, or use the translation group’s instructions to patch it yourself. 

If you can’t do either of those, or just don’t really have a preference, or…any number of reasons, you can also find all the games fully recorded and uploaded to YouTube (with or without commentary)!

As for the links, I’ve got them right h–

Wait–oh, sh–the graphics are bad?!? You think the graphics are bad? Or you think plain reading is boring? Y-you can’t understand what the background image in this scene is even supposed to be? Ah…the post-2007 struggle….

The visual novel, Part Deux: AH, THE JPEGS edition

OKAY SO I SPLIT THIS APART BECAUSE IT*S IMPORTANT

If you wanna spruce up your VN-reading experience, here’s the thing: they ported the game to PS3, with brand new graphics and–get this–full voice acting. Wow! There’s even CGs now…Jeez!

These are NOT the same graphics as the new ones from the official English release! That’s important!

SO, if you wanna spruce up the graphics a bit, or you enjoy voice acting with your novels, you can do that! People took apart the PS3 games and made patches for the PC version to enjoy the new graphics and voices. And now it’s available for the Steam version as well!

[SPRITE COMPARISON: ORIGINAL PC | PS3 | STEAM]You pick your favorite!

ALSO VOICE ACTING! WOW!! Remember how I said the anime got two things right and they were the OP and the voice cast?

SAME CAST, BABEY!!!! They are all excellent and do a wonderful job! It can really add some more interest if you struggle with staying focused on “plain” reading.

Okay so NOW the links:

You’ll have to dig up torrents yourself if you want those, bc its 6am and I’m too sleepy to… uzu

QUESTION ARCS[Physical Eng release] or [Steam page] +[PS3 PATCH]

ANSWER ARCS[Physical Eng release] or [Steam page] +[PS3 PATCH]

YOUTUBE[Non-commentated, with PS3 patch] you can find more just by searching but this one looks good to me :p

RONTRA OPINIONS / SUGGESTIONS

Personally, I favor the VN for most scenes, but the manga for my light casual reading. Y’know? The VN can be pretty…um…dense, at times.

Ironically, I think EP1 itself might be the biggest hurdle for total first-timers. It’s definitely paced as a “part 1 of 8″ for the first solid portion! By which I mean, it really takes its time establishing the cast and their individual situations. Which isn’t a bad thing–especially in the overarching scope of how long the story is–but if you aren’t sure about the premise, format, or if you’ll enjoy Umineko at all, it can be sort of…challenging.

It all really depends on the individual–things like attention span, investment, and personal preferences, imo. Some people just don’t enjoy reading that much text at once! And that’s fine! Some people love it and that’s fine! Some people think the intro is too long, some people think it’s intriguing from the start. Some really like watching character building, and some prefer to see action happening. Either way is fine, so it’s really up to you!

Usually, if someone isn’t sure, I suggest they try EP1 in manga form first, just to see if the general premise entices them; it’s fully possible to jump back and do the VN if you decide you like it! It sacrifices some characterization in exchange for exploring the main premise a little faster.

Similarly, if you just can’t get into the VN–you can read the entire thing with manga too, if you favor action over the deepest character lore. It’s still a good time and a good experience!

Though, in EP1′s favor–if you ARE sure about it, and are able to dedicate your attention to the first 10-13 hours of set-up, EP1 has one of the most rewarding escalations I’ve encountered! If you are able to sit and read a fairly long-winded introduction, you are rewarded with the most buck wild Popping Off you can imagine.

So there’s nothing wrong with jumping right in there with the VN, if you enjoy reading!

However, if you do find that the VN is dragging too much for you, you can go in reverse too–and finish EP1 by manga, then decide if you want to jump back to the VN or not. I promise, the novels pick up the pace too–it’s just getting all the introductions down that can be daunting, when the initial cast size is a staggering 18 people (plus the LORE has to be established too)!!

Just for you–if you want to get into Umineko, but struggle with EP1, I’ll offer my private archive of YenPress manga rips for EP1–read the manga, official english translation, for free thanks to your dealer friend, rontra,You will have to message me about it, though–off anon or via DMs, here or at @aceyasu.

My favorite setups when I play by myself are either Original PC Graphics + Voice Acting, or Full PS3 Patch. I personally really like the original PC graphics, but I understand some people think they’re kinda…um…Rough, to say the least xD PS3 graphics are a close second for me though.

I don’t really like the steam version’s new sprites. Some people don’t mind them, so it’s up to you what you prefer, but I think they don’t really convey the feeling as well as their counterparts sometimes… :/

But hey, everyone’s got their own opinions!

I also prefer the EP8 manga to the EP8 VN. If I have control over someone’s first playthrough, I always push over to the manga for EP8! In my opinion, it’s a rare instance where the adaption is better than its original. People have different opinions on this, of course, but since this section is My Opinions Central, that’s my opinioooon!!! :D

SO BASICALLY MY OWN PERSONAL PREFERRED STRUCTURE IS

->TRY EP1 (jump over to manga if struggling; if enjoyed manga ep1 until the end, hop back into the VN at EP2 and come back to EP1 if you want to later)

EP2-EP7 VN

EP8 MANGA(EP8 VN if desired afterwards, once the dust settles)

But you’re free to do what you want, of course. ;9

And then after that there’s some spinoffs that I didn’t talk about because that’s a post for another time. (There’s a fighting game! It’s packed full of spoilers.)

AFTERWORD

All in all, Umineko is…big. its very very big. it has a huge cast (the final count comes out to like, almost 70 characters!) and a huge story. and huge feelings.

The manga and the VN are the main avenues of getting into it. It’s easier than it looks at a glance; and yet, more daunting than it seems…

If you have the time and energy to pour hours of your time into it, Umineko is a super worthwhile story that tackles genuinely difficult material with a delicate but honest hand.

It clowns up sometimes and stumbles over its own demographic–see: Weird Vaguely Unpleasant Anime-brand Sex Comedy that springs up a lot in EP1, some in EP2, and then largely disappears save for a few dumb jokes here and there–but overall is a solidly built and solidly delivered story about trauma, love, loss, and getting your family ritual-murdered by a thousand-year-old witch who may or may not be real.

And if you have any questions at all (or just wanna talk Umineko), you can send an ask or IM me here or at @aceyasu–you can ask for my Discord too if you wanna really get into it. Or DM me on twitter! I’m happy to answer any question or elaborate on anything you’re confused about. I tried to go over this post quickly, so if I was too vague on something, feel free to ask!

The same of course applies to content warnings; if there’s something specific you’re worried about, I can answer it for you, whether it’s “does [specific thing] happen/appear” or “how much of [thing] is there, i can handle a little bit”! Anything! Of course I want people to read my favorite, but I also more than that want u all to be safe.

I’m very sorry that this post is literally three thousand words long. Umineko’s been my special interest for almost ten whole years. I get chatty! But hopefully my passion shines through and gets you excited!!!

LOVE, A BIG NERD

[kurtty-drabbles]

Su/Lovecraft au (fighting)

N/A: Venus is back and Oh boy she has a problem to solve now.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling

Venus is the first creation of Zaorva, well, maybe the first Herald, not even Zaorva knew what was her first creation anymore. Venus was supposed to aid Zaorva in her chores, however, the woman is anything but a fighter and Cthulu's herald knew that and in the end, Venus was useless. In the end, Venus has no other chore to do.

Why HIM didn´t eat her? Venus doesn´t know and never dare to ask. Therefore, as much Venus is not a warrior, the red hair arrives in Earth easily, in flames and in the blood(somehow, it makes her think of her own creation, Zaorva  did pluck her out of the fire and her own blood) in the sand on a beach, again, this is very similar to her own creation.

It´s ironic she landed in a beach.

The animals in this planet, or to be more exact, all the species originated from this planet, noticed the woman covered in fire and lava, her primary skin and the humans are screaming in panic.

Easy to remedy this situation, at least. Changing her primary skin for the secondary, and now Venus is just a red hair wearing a loose white dress that is not hiding much. Suddenly, the panic turns into wolf whistle, much to her dismay.

(You hair is pretty, it looks like fire, the words of her master still ring in her mind. Is such a nice contrast with the water, I like it. Zaorva was never a fan of water, how ironic that she is crystal blue, well...she was.)

"Humans, don´t fear me, I came here to only bring the doomsday" some many don´t seem to register the situation or her words "Bring me the X-men"

"I´m the X-men" someone shout and it was copied by others.

"Oh, silly humans, I´m not here for games" rising her hand high she craft a small rain, a small rain of fire. "Let´s try this again, where is the X-men? Where is Kitty Pryde?"

Now the panic resurges as everyone runs away from Venus leaving the beach uninhabited as Venus begins to walk(the salt water touches her feet and the woman only shivers at that, maybe Venus never liked water either)

Fire follows her like a shadow as Venus is aimless looking and waiting for her big mission. Heralds of Zaorva, in general, avoid water at any cost, so, of course, Kitty Pryde is not here.

The West Coast Avengers show up back up by the regular Avengers. Venus only shakes her head, why waste time fighting, the end is closer, is better spent time with your loved ones.

America tries to fly and land a punch, however, Venus merely blocks her powers.

"Child, stay with your friends, stay with your girlfriend. The end is near" Venus replied as America is glued to the ground. Patsy and She-Hulk tried to attack as well. Pantsy was petrified and She-Hulk was thrown to the other side of the city.

Scarlet Witch tries her unfamous hex, it did cause some damage, moreover, the damage was quickly healed as the red hair gaze upon the Scarlet Witch.

" You knew this day would come, the end of everything, stop fighting Wanda, stay with your brother, with your sons and niece, stay with the man you love enough to bring him back. He is just a human now, stay with him...make the last days on earth pleasant, don´t make this a battlefield" Venus instructed as Wanda is no longer flying. "The end is here"

"Are you one of his Herald?" Wanda asks not daring to say his name, she may have used dark magic to bring Vision back(and making him human) but, not even this would qualify Wanda to speak the name of this Elderly God.

"No, count your blessings, If I was...you all would be dead" the Venus looks into Wanda´s mind and smiles pleased "I knew, a true herald of her wouldn´t be near water"

And with a snap of her fingers, Venus leaves the place untouched as the great heroines are defeated and impossible to counterattack. ___________________________________ Venus is not the one to be subtle, especially in this occasion, Storm sends a violent rain, and Venus admits, it´s a pain in the ass, and it made the mood sour as Venus makes a fire rain punish the weather witch(not killing) for the travesty.

"Why waste time fighting? Please, stop and enjoy the life you all have" Venus instructed as the other X-men didn´t seem to listen. "All I want to is to meet the one called Kitty Pryde," Venus asked one more time as a petite woman jumps from her hidden location and decides to attack her with the spells she knows causing little no damage.

Venus watches the woman as studying her spells. It´s a different aura in this woman, not a regular Herald, not even a half crafted one. The woman is not what Venus was expecting.

(I like that my creations are spontaneous, if I make always the same thing, it would be boring)

"Kitty Pryde!" Venus tries to speak as Kitty is using another spell, attacking, with blue eyes...the hue is a bit familiar. The spells did help her friends to take the new students to the safer house leaving Kitty and Venus alone.

"I´m here, the Avengers told us you are looking for me, are you one of his...servants??"

"God, why everyone thinks that?" Venus shakes her head"No, I serve" then she chuckles humourless "served a much greater deity, anyway, I´m here to see if you are a herald of her too, but, you don´t have the same aura as mine or the others"

"Herald? Why I would be a herald? Are you here to destroy earth too?" Kitty asked with her glowing eyes and hands and Venus steps back as this scene is too similar to be ignored.

(I´ll protect this planet, Venus, I like this one, I want to see how they will carry on)

"No, I could ever destroy a creation of Zoarva, however, HIM wants to destroy this planet and no one dares to fight HIM" Venus explained not minding if she sounds cowardly or not. No one who faces him is alive to tell how it went.

Venus didn´t realize she is shivering, until, Kitty brought it up, as the woman falls on the ground.

"I have to take you to him, he asked me and...please, don´t make go back there with empty hands" Venus pleaded. Kitty comes closer and sits next to her.

"Ok, let´s talk, I´d feel there´s something missing here, so, first tell me why,"Kitty almost used his name but no one likes when she does that, "HIM, wants to destroy the planet"

"Because...Zaorva is killed by Chtulu and HIM being the supreme leader of the intergalactic court, ruler of the Outer Gods, ordered this planet´s execution, it was here that Zaorva was killed" Venus is crying, hot tears evaporate as soon it dwell on her eyes.

"I don´t really believe in that story," Kitty said looking at Venus as she is a small toddler, it´s odd how a minute ago she is ready to fight this woman and now she wants to ease her pain. Maybe, just maybe, Bobby is right and Kitty is the big mom friend."How can anyone be sure she was killed here? Where is her body?"

"She vanishes into thin air...but she maybe didn´t die here, but, Chtuly did murder her and this planet was in the equation" Venus explained. Kitty hummed silently at that.

"And why HIM wants me?" Kitty asked and now Venus laughs weakly.

"It must be a misunderstood, he thought you were his Herald or one of his creations, but, since you don´t have the same aura as mine nor of the Elder Bairns...you are just a witch with a new set of powers, nothing more than that" Venus explained hugging herself to calm her hot tears. Kitty gaze upon Venus and then summons something.

"Is because of this?" Venus jumps into the air looking at the shield like never saw one before, and judging by the particular shield she is watching that may be true.

"You have her shield? How? where did you get it? Why did she give to you? Are you really a herald? Maybe an unfinished project...but you are so different from my aura"

"Calm down, I have questions too, ok, first, this shield is mine, I never take from any place, when my magic manifest...the shield appears as well, I was 4 years old with a shield that could be bigger than my family´s car or be at the size of my back-pack" Kitty answers "I have no clue this once belong to Zaorva, again, the shield obeys me and only me. Now, I have no clue about the Herald thing, I don´t think I´m...no one tells me what to do"Kitty jokes.

"Then how can you have her shield? When she dies the shield vanishes into thin air..."Venus explained confused at the mere sight of the shield present to her eyes.

"As I said, I don´t think she was killed here, and those little details, do matter, do the Outer Gods have trials?"

"Yes, but...HIM is the one who judges, he is scary" Venus said and Kitty nods.

"You don´t need to be afraid, in fact, you seem to be a very dedicated Herald and does not wish to destroy this planet, how about we try to solve this out?" Kitty suggested, "HIM is scary, but, the man is in love with Zaorva and sure he does not wishes to punish the wrong planet over the real culprits, right?"

(Are you afraid, Venus? Yes Don´t be, I´m with you)

"The Pheonix told us a funny story...but the Pheonix is always wrong" Venus speaks not giving more details to Kitty "be aware, you may talk to him but there´s no guarantee you may return...he´s manipulative at the best"

"I know, I saw him more than once, guess what? He does not frighten me" Then Kitty offers her hand to Venus to rose up.

"I can see what she liked this planet so much, everyone here is unique"

(Why you like earth so much? Because, everyone on this planet, is unique and special in their own way, that´s very precious to me, Venus)

[kirbykwan-blog]

You look at me and smell the tangerine (Verkwan)

Verkwan AU

Sadness/fluff/Chubby Seungkwan

This was my first fic, be gentle with me

(Unedited, originally posted on AO3)

It was dark, and the smell of Seungkwan was still there, on his pillowcase. He loved the way Seungkwan smelled, his hair of sweet citrus and his skin of fresh vanilla. Everything about Seungkwan was sweet, his scent, his smile, his personality.. even his laugh. That's one of the reasons Hansol loved to be around him. Boo Seungkwan had been his best friend for three years now, and he wouldn't ask for anyone else to take his space. Seungkwan was a good listener, and always listened to what Hansol had to say, even if he didn't know much about the subject in the first place.

Hansol would give anything up for Seungkwan, he just wanted to keep his best friend safe. He crawled out of bed groggily, rubbing his eyes and letting out a soft yawn. It was already 8:46am, so he knew that Kwannie was already at work. Hansol admired how hard Seungkwan worked, never getting to work late at all. He worked as a music teacher at the local primary school, and the kids absolutely adored him! Hansol adored him too.

Hansol picked up his phone and sent out a message to Seungkwan, just the basic and simple 'Good morning lil dumpling! have a wonderful day!'. He texted Seungkwan goodmorning every morning, he had since they had first become friends. Seungkwan would always giggle at him, telling him that he didn't need to put effort into that every single day. He thought it was plain silly, but Hansol on the other hand, never stopped.

Hansol got dressed the way he did every day, padding out to the kitchen to get breakfast, his smile growing larger at the little stickies his best friend had left all over the small apartment kitchen. Vernon forgot things a lot, so Seungkwan would write a small note to him on a sticky and place it right where he could see it. Some of them said things like, 'Pack a bottle of water and stay hydrated!' or 'Please eat a banana, you need potassium, the bananas will go bad otherwise.' All were embellished with small doodles of whatever had been on his mind. Little clouds and stars littered the small neon notes, keeping the words company.

He grabbed a bottle from the cabinet, turning the sink on to fill the container to the brim with water, just like Seungkwan had said to do. He also grabbed one of the slowly browning bananas from the countertop before heading out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. It was chilly outside, and he really hoped that Seungkwan remembered his jacket before he had left that morning. Despite the fluff on the boys body, Seungkwan still managed to get cold very easily. Not long into their friendship, Hansol had noticed his hoodies and pullovers all went missing. It didn't take him long to find out the culprit had been the tangerine boy himself, snatching all his warm items up because he 'thought they were comfy' and because 'they smelled like apples'. Vernon had no idea why Seungkwan thought he smelled of apples, but he didn't mind the compliment.

He trekked down the street to his office building, smiling brightly at the primary school when he walked by. He waved at the building as if Seungkwan could really see it, which he knew was impossible. He was busy singing little nursery rhymes to the children, laughing as they sang along in their sweet young voices. Thinking about that made Hansol think about Seungkwans' smile, like a perfect crescent. Hansol stopped in his tracks, just to daydream about Seungkwans smile. The way his whole face lit up made Hansols heart sing, his eyes reduced to small bright slivers every time his lips turned up into his perfect bunny smile. Everything about Boo Seungkwan made Hansol so so warm inside.

Hansol began walking again, thoughts of seungkwans smile in his mind. He pushed open the door to his office building, the man at the front desk looking quite concerned. "Mr. Chwe, hello. Its nice to see you so happy today!" he spoke with a small smile.

Hansol returned the smile, "Its an absolutely wonderful day, a bit cold though. Wear a jacket if you choose to go outside, Soonyoung!"

The man at the desk smiled his big smile some more and began to type onto his computer again as Hansol was walking away.

Hansol walked into the elevator and hummed softly to himself, deciding to text Seungkwan that he had gotten to work safely. It was a simple text with a small smiley emoticon tacked onto the end, the one that he found himself only using in his texts to Seungkwan. That's only because Seungkwan made him happy, and he wanted his best friend to know it.

The elevator dinged and let him off, and Hansol pushed his cellphone back into his hind pocket, making his way down the long hallway to his own personal office. Hansols' job wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, in fact it was actually quite boring to say the least. He just sat in his little brightly lit office and answered phonecalls, occasionally even sending out emails. He sat down in the navy blue spinning chair and came face to face with the photo on his desk.

He smiled at the memory, the photo just he and Seungkwan in the middle of New York together. He had brought Seungkwan with him on his trip last year, and it was absolute art to see his squishy little face light up at all of the sights. Of course it was just another big city, but it was the first big city they had ever been to together.

The photo was just a selfie of the two of them standing in Times Square, a smile on both of their faces. Seungkwan was looking up at all the lights, but Hansol seemed to be looking right at Seungkwan. When the boy had asked why he was staring at him, he rolled his eyes and said he was just looking at a Pidgeon in that general direction.

Anyone who knew Hansol knew that it was a lie, but Seungkwan believed it, so he wasn't worried. That was one of the best memories of he and Seungkwan, but it wasn't the only thing Seungkwan related in his office. He had stickies everywhere, just like the ones at home, except they were all white instead of neon 'to fit with the workplace aesthetic' he had said.

Sometimes Seungkwan would come and visit him while he was working and leave silly little motivational notes, or just inside jokes, there was even a sticky that just had a picture of a butt on it. They were all scattered around his office, and he had been told if he took them down he would have his head shaved in the middle of the night.

Hansol would never take them down anyway. They brought color to the office, metaphorically of course. He just worked now, smiling to himself, eating some of his half browned banana while he sent out all of his important emails and doodled on MS Paint, falling asleep an hour or so into the day.

He woke up soon after snoozing, working the rest of the day with no complaints. He finished off his last phonecall and his last MS paint drawing of a cat before getting his things together to go home. After he had taken his short nap, the day went by in grey, he didn't even want to take a lunch break.

Hansol skulked out of the office building, not bothering to say a goodbye to Soonyoung as he started on his way home. Something caught his eye as he was walking, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Across the street was a little cart selling different colors of carnations, and what kind of person would Hansol be if he didn't buy one of those for his best friend?

He carefully made his way across the street, purchasing a dozen pink ones from the boy at the stand who flashed him an angelic smile, he thanked the gardener politely before resuming his walk home. By now the sky was darkening, and all the streetlights were on. Hansol remembered a lot of things, like how once he took a stroll with Seungkwan on this very street once, at this time of evening.

They held hands, Seungkwan wrapped up tight in Vernons coat, snow fluttering softly to the ground. Little flakes danced in the wind as if they were trained to do so, some landing on seungkwans pink nose and cheeks, some even settling down atop his eyelashes. He remembered the conversation they had.

"Noni.. Why is it so cold. Why did you bring me out here in the cold. I'm not a fan of the cold, nor am I a fan of you at this very moment!" Seungkwan had asked in a huff, his face contorted into a pout that looked more cute than actually upsetting in any way.

Vernon had rolled his eyes, squeezing his hand tighter. "I thought maybe if I took someone as warm hearted as you out here, all the snow would melt and spring would come. I suppose I mistook you for someone else, though, because you're just as bitter as the wind."

It had been that point that Seungkwan had demanded they go inside, and Hansol happily obliged, making his friend the warmest hot chocolate he could, trying but failing to make it as sweet as the boy himself.

Vernon was so lost in thought, he almost missed his turn. Almost. He took a left across the road and continued walking until his feet hit the grass. This isn't where he meant to go, but its where his feet were leading him. He almost didn't realize what he was doing until he took a seat in the grass. "Hi, How are you?" He didn't wait for a response before speaking again, "I brought you these flowers, the carnations are your favorites right? And also this." He slid off his jacket, wrapping it around Seungkwan comfortingly. "Its a bit cold, you really should wear a jacket out here you know."

He looked at seungkwans face, the boy smiling back at him like he always did. He reached up and ran his fingertips across the glass of the picture frame, he would have to replace it soon. "I'm just glad it isn't snowing yet, although I'm sure your heart will keep you warm. With you spring is always here. Did you get my goodmorning text by the way? I really hope you did.."

His voice wasn't as bright anymore, not now. "I thought about you all day. I know you wouldn't want me to cry over you, and I swear I don't mean to.." Hansol sniffed softly. "I really love you. I love you so much that sometimes it keeps me up at night. I wish I would have told you that more, I wish I would have bought you more flowers."

He trailed off, standing up, he gently placed the flowers and half the banana onto the ground as if they were glass. As if they were fragile.

Hansol felt so fragile.

He wrapped the coat tighter around the headstone that read the worst name it could, Boo Seungkwan. "Thank you for listening. You always listen. Goodnight, Seungkwan. I hope you rest well.. Please enjoy your flowers."

And with that, Hansol turned away from the headstone littered with dozens of flowers and most of Hansols hoodies and pullovers. Seungkwan had always said that they were comfy and smelled like apples. He never understood how he smelled like apples, but he took the compliment anyways.

He made his way back to their apartment, trudging up the stairs to the place he called home. He numbly walked past the couch where they had shared their first kiss. He walked into the bathroom, where he had first told Seungkwan he was beautiful, even though he had a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and his hair was all wet. Hansol took a quick shower, getting out almost as soon as he had gotten in. He wasn't worried about that now.

He walked into their bedroom, slipping on some clothes, eyeballing the stickies on the bedroom mirror that said bright things such as 'you look great today' or 'I like that shirt!' all kept company by the usual little doodles on them. The notes were like little doodles of clouds and stars on the empty home, little neon pieces of company for Hansol. They kept him going somehow.

He let out a sigh before sitting on his bed, attaching his phone to its charger. He rested his head on the pillows and let out a choked sob, it was dark, and the smell of Seungkwan was still there, on his pillowcase. He loved the way Seungkwan smelled.

END

[kpopfanfictrash]

Obsidian (VIII)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Taehyung (V)

Rating: R (violence, character death - minor)

Word Count: 7,414

Summary: The world of magic is divided into dark and light, witches and warlocks, choice and fate. You’re a prodigy of light, a witch who works within the police force. You’ve heard of Taehyung in passing, spoken in whispers as the warlock of dark who has the world holding it’s breath.  All this changes on the night you’re assigned as security for a mysterious singer named V and you come face to face with Taehyung himself. What happens after that might be fate.

This is it. This is the missing link, that extra piece of evidence. Taehyung couldn’t feel the trace, since he couldn’t separate the token from his father. I’ve never met him though, so the object should be uncluttered for me. I stare at the thing in Seokjin’s hand, uncertain if this will work or not.

It didn’t before, when I first attempted to trace the spell in the alley. My heart pounds though, unreasonably loud – for some reason, my skin is itching. Crying out for contact with the object. Yoongi looks at me, then Seokjin – who stares, dropping the token into my palm.

The second my skin makes contact, I gasp. I stumble back, hand reaching for the wall – as nausea and déjà vu churn my stoamch. When I open my eyes, I’m lost. My breath is heavy, weak with realization – and I whirl, searching for Yoongi. “Taehyung,” I whisper, voice dark with horror. “I have to warn him,” I gasp, before disappearing entirely.

Exhaling wearily, Taehyung unwraps the mic from his waist. He removes the tape piece by piece, lifting his pack to set this aside. It’s late, much later than he anticipated and right now, all he wants to do is be by your side. In his haste, Taehyung nearly trips shoving his stage jacket into the closet. Catching himself quickly, he wipes his face free of sweat and foundation and turns back around.

The room before him is empty. For a moment, Taehyung stares at it and imagines things differently. He pictures you there on the couch, lazing about – practicing your spells, or working on a case – he imagines returning from the stage and kissing you the moment he enters. Taking your hand, kissing you harder, pressing you to him.

He doesn’t know if you realize this, but you make a noise when you kiss him. There’s a hitch, halfway between moan and hum whenever his hands brush your skin. It’s as though he’s shocked it out of you, as though you’ve been electrified and can’t help your reaction. It makes him smile just to think of.

A sudden ringing in his mind causes the daydream to vanish.

Taehyung’s head snaps up. Lifting both palms before him, he spreads them apart, tingling with unused magic. No longer does he think of you – now, he is thinking of the trip he just made upon leaving your bedroom. He did lie to you earlier – it was a small lie thought, one of omission.

Taehyung didn’t go to the studio this morning, nor did he go to the stadium.

Gripping tightening on the air, Taehyung closes his eyes. The moves he made earlier were strange, strategic – designed to cover the city in a grid and leave pieces of himself behind. Taehyung isn’t omniscient, far from it. He cannot know what happens at every moment – but he can be on the lookout for certain kinds of magic. He laid traps for hot spots of activity around the city. With this, Taehyung hopes to catch the next summoning before it happens.

Magic is merely energy. People who use magic do so because of an ability to transmute it, turning it into something else they can use. Taehyung feels magic, uses it and commands it. He can sense when others use it, too, though this happens with varying degrees of strength and accuracy. Someone opening a portal, though – Taehyung should be able to sense.

Which explains the alarms he has made, the web he has strung across the city. With this, he’ll feel the next unusual disturbance. Taehyung will know because of sharp ringing in his ear. A ringing like the one happening now, while Taehyung’s hands clench in thin air. He searches agilely for the source, closing his eyes to scan unfettered. When he finds the broken alarm, he grabs on – pulling himself forward, deciphering the spell, and when he opens his eyes, he exhales.

He stands in the alleyway off 47th and Park.

Taehyung’s body moves faster than his thoughts, pausing only to gather wits and courage about him. He told you he’d help, which he did. He sent you that list, informed you of everyone who lived in his father’s cult, but did not tell you of his suspicion. It was for your own protection, he reasons. Taehyung was uncertain about it yesterday, but when he woke up today – he could no longer deny the obvious. The only way to see for sure, though – is to catch the culprit in the act.

Taehyung needs you to be safe, while he does this.

Tugging his jacket closer, Taehyung walks forward. He’s by the stadium, outside the awnings and near where the first woman was killed. Taehyung moves forward in silence, using his magic to cover his tracks. He cloaks while he does this, using his shadows to cover his path. When Taehyung turns the corner and sees movement – his feet come to a sudden halt.

It should not surprise him.

It should not shock him.

It should not gut him, the way it does when Taehyung sees his brother. He suspected, after all, he wondered – but still, Taehyung was not ready for this. His brother stands tall over a limp, deadened body.

“Jaewoo,” Taehyung croaks, slowly making himself visible.

Jaewoo does not look up, and Taehyung wonders if he knew. He wonders if Jaewoo knew Taehyung suspected, if he was certain he would be found out. Perhaps Jaewoo even knew about the tracking spells Taehyung laid, and took special precautions.

“Stay back,” Jaewoo warns, holding up a hand. “I’ll hurt her – I swear I will.”

Taehyung pauses, uncertain who he means – and when he realizes the truth, his stomach drops to the ground. The woman limp before Jaewoo, her wrists bound and mouth gagged is Julia, Y/N’s partner. The air around Taehyung seems to lessen then, squeezed from his lungs as he sees the knife held to her throat.

Jaewoo tuts gently, under his breath. “The closer you get, the closer the knife gets to her larynx.”

Taehyung swallows and assesses. This is his worst nightmare and briefly, he wonders if he’s dreaming. Deep down, Taehyung knows this is a silly thing to think. When he reaches down, pinching his leg beneath the dark fabric of his trousers – he’s unsurprised to find the scene unwavering.

“I…” Taehyung exhales – searching the alley for a way out. “Why, Jaewoo? Why this?”

Dropping into a crouch, Jaewoo pushes hair from his eyes. He squints down at the ground, curving his chalk in a thin, circular line. “Why,” he repeats, considering. “Why am I doing this?”

Taehyung doesn’t move, just watches. Jaewoo is focused on the task at hand, nearly unrecognizable in the half-moon light. A sliver of it falls upon his face, casting his skin with patterns of shadow. His hair falls wild about him, as though he’s run his hands through the edges several times and is dressed in the same clothing as yesterday.

Gaze moving to Julia, Taehyung sees she remains unmoving.

She seems either drugged or sleeping, Taehyung isn’t sure which – and without knowing, he doesn’t want to risk her safety. It must be magic though, since the knife gleams at her throat, held eerily aloft by invisible hands. Taehyung’s stomach knots, returning his gaze to Jaewoo.

“Tell me,” he says, struggling to remain calm. “Just explain to me, Jaewoo – I want to know what happened. Or if someone is making you do this,” he adds, heart leaping into his throat. “If someone is forcing you to hurt people, tell me and we can fight them together.”

Rambling somewhat, Taehyung takes an eager step forward – only to be stopped by the anger clear upon Jaewoo’s face.

His brother’s muscles tense, gaze clouded with fear. Jaewoo looks down, observing his handiwork before pushing himself to stand. “Together?” When he looks back up, his gaze is distant. “That’s the problem though, Taehyung. You, my protector – always stepping in where you’re unwanted.”

Taehyung freezes, uncertain. “What – what do you mean by that?”

Jaewoo slowly exhales. He looks down to the five pieces of stone carefully arranged in a star.

“Do you remember that day you lost total control?” he asks, lifting a hand to sprinkle salt around the circumference. Jaewoo’s chest rises and falls with the motion, as though infinitely heavy. “I found you in the bathroom of our primary school.”

Taehyung’s heart stutters and he nods. That was the memory he chose to show you – to show both you and Yoongi, in order to get you to trust him. That was the day Taehyung snapped, showing his power before he vomited into the toilet. It is a day he remembers well, although he did not think Jaewoo did.

“I left my classroom. too,” Jaewoo says dully. “I felt your magic going haywire – this, of course, was back when I still could still track you. I disappeared to find out if you were okay.”

The alleyway has fallen silent. It’s not a calming one, but a lack of noise entirely. It is as though the alleyway has sealed itself off – rather warily, Taehyung looks up at the sky. It shimmers above him, and he wonders how he missed this before.

There’s magic at work here, strong magic.

“Ah,” Jaewoo says, following his brother’s gaze. “I suppose I should mention I’m quite good at defensive spells. They’re my specialty, actually. Only I can use magic in this alley, brother. Sorry for the inconvenience.” With a shrug, Jaewoo turns aside.

Taehyung’s gaze flicks to his hands, which are shaking. “It was you,” he realizes, piecing it all together. “You tried to kill Y/N in the alley. You cast the spell trapping her there, then summoned a shadow demon.”

Taehyung should have realized this before. It’s the great tragedy of love though, that it blinds one to the truth. Taehyung’s eyes fill with tears – sorrow, hurt when he realizes.

“You wanted to kill her again yesterday,” he murmurs. “Bringing her to that warlock den.”

Jaewoo’s expression falters for a moment. “Killing is such an unpleasant term,” he mutters. “I wouldn’t have had to do anything, if she’d just left me well enough alone.”

Taehyung growls, moving forward and bonds snap into place around him. He yelps, both knees slamming hard to the pavement as Jaewoo looks on in surprise. His eyes widen. “Oh,” he exhales, glancing down at his hands. Jaewoo seems almost shocked to find his spell worked. “This is… interesting.”

Groaning, Taehyung feels dizzy with the invisible weight from all sides. Reaching forward, Taehyung searches for magic but whenever he tries – nothing. The notion is like water, weightless in his grasp and he cannot call forth that fire from within.

Jaewoo observes him this way, tilting his head. “Back to that day,” he continues, soft. “I was gone from my classroom just as long as you were. I felt you losing control and wanted to help – but when I returned, do you know what I found?”

Taehyung shakes his head no, the pressure increasing.

“Nothing.” Jaewoo stares straight ahead. His lower lip quivers, as though incensed by the memory. “Absolutely nothing. No one even noticed I was gone, no one cared.”

“Jaewoo.” Taehyung pants from the effort.

Whatever his brother has done, it’s draining far more than just his magic. Or maybe it is just his magic, and Taehyung has never been without it. The sensation is oddly hopeless and Taehyung can’t breathe properly.

His brother cuts him off with a shake of his head. “It wasn’t just that day,” he adds. “It was any time I spoke. Anytime we met someone new, then they met you – I ceased to become relevant. I faded away from existence. I was never visible, not with you around.”

“That’s not true, though,” Taehyung blurts, unable to remain silent. “I saw you. I needed you, Jaewoo!”

“Oh, sure.” Jaewoo rolls his eyes. He flings out his arm, knife moving dangerously close to Julia’s throat. Taehyung lunges forward to stop this, only to be thrown to the ground by invisible bonds. Jaewoo’s lips curl as he watches. “You needed me to be the good brother. You needed me to not be an embarrassment. You needed me to be quiet, so you could take credit for everything, anything I did. All the while you, dear Taehyung, shone in the spotlight.”

Taehyung’s breath tightens. “What are you talking about, Jaewoo?”

“I think you know,” Jaewoo snaps. His voice has turned cold, calculating. “When that girl attacked me in the Games – I won. I was the one who beat her, and you were so threatened by my success, you took all the glory. You said it was for my own good and became a victor three times over. I was a victor too, but no one ever remembers. They only speak of my brother, the champion. Me? I’m a byline. A footnote on your page, because I only won once before you banned me from playing.”

“Playing?” Taehyung exhales, red with anger. Up until now, he’s tried to understand but now, he draws a line. “Is that what you think the Games are, brother? A woman died because of you. When you killed that sorceress, they would have killed you, because of it.”

Jaewoo scoffs. “Not you, though,” he says, utterly calm. “Never you, brother. Why is that?”

“I…” Taehyung falters, knowing the answer but not wanting to say. 

His brother is not wrong in this. What Jaewoo claims is true – the dark does value Taehyung more than Jaewoo. They have respected him more, have listened to him for longer. Taehyung can’t imagine what that must have been like for his brother to grow up in his shadow.

Jaewoo appears satisfied by his lack of answer. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters, turning around. “It’s hardly the first time I’ve heard I’m nothing. Father used to tell me all the time. Since before I was born. In the womb he would whisper,” he says, knife lowering dangerously close to Julia’s chest, “that my existence did not matter – not compared to you, our savior. Dark’s chosen one.”

Hardly daring to breathe, Taehyung watches. He merely waits and watches Jaewoo – because perhaps his brother merely wants an audience. Maybe he wants to voice his pain aloud, explain his trials to the person who caused them. Jaewoo is right, in part. Taehyung’s stomach sinks, realizing this because partly, Taehyung is selfish. He kept Jaewoo by his side not for his brother’s sake, but for hi. Taehyung was selfish in keeping Jaewoo hidden. The events of the Games scared Taehyung and he was blinded by fear of losing Jaewoo, so he didn’t trust his brother to do the right thing.

It’s unsurprising then, that Jaewoo became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Taehyung practically begged him to.

Taehyung’s brother’s eyes glimmer, dark in the moonlight. “Do you know what he said to me every day we were alone?” Jaewoo asks, casting a hand over the circle.

“No,” Taehyung whispers. Maybe he can convince his brother to punish him. To punish Taehyung instead, to hurt Taehyung instead and let Julia go. “What did our father say to you?”

“He…” Jaewoo exhales, staring out at his hand. His tongue moistens his lips, as though gathering strength. “He explained I was not worthy to lick your shoes. I was waste, scum of the earth – worse, he said I only existed as your foil. I was a failure, necessary to make your success shine brightly.”

Taehyung stares at him, horrified. “No,” he exhales, since it’s so much worse than he thought. “That’s not true. I’ve never thought that about you, Jaewoo. Never.”

“Oh?” Jaewoo counters, sharp. “You were quick to assume my spell yesterday went wrong. You didn’t even stop to consider I would hurt your girlfriend,” Jaewoo says, sneering the word, “on purpose.”

Taehyung hesitates and looks down at the ground. “I knew,” he admits, quiet.

“What?” This, out of everything, seems to shock Jaewoo. “You knew?”

“I knew,” Taehyung confirms, glancing up. “I just… didn’t want to believe. I found every reason not to believe, because I… I just,” he swallows, unable to look away. “I couldn’t believe. It was a fake, wasn’t it?”

“The crest?” Jaewoo frowns, understanding. “No – I summoned it earlier, from a warlock I know carries his. I reached for it the moment you began speaking to Y/N. I’m not an idiot, Taehyung, no matter what you seem to believe.”

Taehyung looks at him sadly. “I don’t think you’re an idiot, Jaewoo. I never thought that. I only tried to protect you – admittedly, poorly at times.”

This does nothing to ease Jaewoo’s expression. “Protect me?” He bends, hand trailing lovingly over the circle. “I protected myself,” Jaewoo snaps. “While you worked on your power, I looked within. I built myself walls,” he whispers as he stands. “I hid my thoughts from you. I planned this entire thing, worked on it in secret – waiting for the day I’d prove myself to those who doubted. I hid it all – from you, and from your bitch.”

Taehyung growls a warning, deep in his throat. “Insult me all you like,” he says calmly. “But one more word about Y/N and Jaewoo, I swear to you – I will light fire in your soul.”

Jaewoo stares at Taehyung, as though he might believe him – and then laughs. “Even if you could break free, it matters not. By the time you stop me it will be too late.” Jaewoo flexes his fingertips. “I will summon the Archdemon, it will be mine to command and you – you, Taehyung, will finally be the lesser brother.”

Taehyung’s heart pounds loud in his chest. “Even if you do,” he says, struggling to pull his hands free. “Leave Y/N out of this. It has nothing to do with her.”

“It has everything to do with her,” Jaewoo blurts out. “In the prophecy, she keeps trying to stop me. She is in love with you, and it’s your blood – me – who betrays her. Don’t you see,” he breathes, eyes wide. “It all comes together in Y/N.”

Taehyung frowns, because something about what Jaewoo just said is off. Frantically, he tries to remember the prophecy but somehow, the words and dates are slipping through his grasp. Jaewoo has it wrong, somehow – he has things twisted, but Taehyung can’t remember enough to put him at ease.

“Listen to me,” Taehyung insists, arms twisting tighter. The magic coils about his muscles, holding him immobile. “You can’t do this, Jaewoo. Forget me, forget this stupid rivalry between us and just think for a moment about the consequences.”

This, though, is the wrong thing to say.

“What did you just say?” Jaewoo whispers.

He seems dazed by these words, almost furious – while he stares shrewdly at Taehyung, an invisible force drags Julia to the center of the circle. She’s deposited awkwardly there, limbs sprawled to arrange themselves in a star.

Taehyung struggles against his bonds. “I said,” he growls. “You need to look at the larger picture. If you let an archdemon loose, it will mean devastation. You won’t have proven anything to anyone. You’ll kill us all – and be dead in return.”

Jaewoo falls silent for a moment. He stares at Taehyung, weighing his words and then – “Liar,” he clips, turning away. “You’ll say anything to stop me from winning.”

Taehyung shakes his head side to side, and realizes he’s crying. He cries for the fate of his brother – for the fate of him himself – the fate of Julia, of Y/N, of the world.

“You still don’t get it,” Taehyung says, staring hard at his back. “This is not a game. There is no winner, there are only losers. Brother,” Taehyung manages – and Jaewoo finally snaps.

“Brother?” he hisses, whirling about to face him. “Don’t call me that! You’ve lost the right to call me that. The larger picture,” Jaewoo repeats, incredulous.  “That’s what the Council said to our father, isn’t it? That was his problem. Our father thought too small, only wanted to make the dark rise – but he didn’t think big enough. With warlocks, there isn’t a quick win. With a demon,” Jaewoo exhales, eyes blazing. “I’ll be a hero.”

Taehyung stares at him, horrified. “That’s your plan?” he croaks, pushing again at Jaewoo’s magic. “Raise a demon, kill the humans – and then what? Dark will reign at last?”

“Yes. Because of me.” Jaewoo nods. “And me, alone. Finally, no one will look at me and think of you. There will be no comparison, no failure. I’ll be a savior, the revered one. I’ll have the power of an Archdemon in my hands.”

Before Taehyung can respon, Jaewoo begins a chant. The words of his spell rise and fall, while Taehyung strains at the bonds on his wrists. No longer, is Taehyung certain he can win. He is no longer certain his brother can be pacified. This feud appears to have started with them but no longer remains a quarrel between brothers. Jaewoo won’t stop until the whole society sees him rise. Except –

Leaning forward, Taehyung’s heart races. “But brother,” he yells, struggling to be heard over the wind. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Jaewoo pauses in the middle of a word. “What? What is it?”

“You’ve done this before,” Taehyung reminds him. “You’ve tried this spell several times, and each has failed. Why do you think this is different, why do you think you’ll succeed?”

Jaewoo glares at him sharply. “And still,” he says, lifting a hand. Julia rises behind him. “You have no faith in me. Now, brother,” he hisses, twisting the word, “I know what I’ve done wrong. I know the girl must be alive. At first,” he allows, slamming Julia’s head to the ground.

Taehyung’s stomach heaves, and he struggles harder.

“Wait!”

I pause, half-in, half-out of the room.

In the corners of my eyes I see the stadium, my intended destination. Seokjin is walking towards me, holding out a hand and I stop – wondering what, possibly, he has to say. When I solidify, I’m scowling. “Make it quick, Kim,” I snap, because every second counts. “I don’t have time for riddles, or nonsense.”

“I know,” Seokjin nods. “Which is why you need to hear me say this. Look – summonings aren’t as simple as black and white.”

“What?” Yoongi frowns. “And you,” he adds, glancing my way, “don’t you dare disappear like that again. I’m coming with.”

Ignoring this, I purse my lips and focus on Seokjin. “Seokjin,” I groan. “What do you know about summonings that we don’t?”

Seokjin’s eyes gleam. “I imagine that’d fill several books,” he drawls – jumping back when I lift a hand. “Okay – okay! The thing is, summoning a lesser demon is different from an Archdemon.”

“Okay.” My gaze darts to Yoongi, already impatient.

Seokjin eyes my hand warily. “I lied when I said I don’t know how to summon an Archdemon. I do – and I once sold the information to a man I thought was in need. Not,” he hastens, seeing my eyes widen, “to the man we know uses it now – but I fear the man I told sold it to him. I feel guilty,” Seokjin confesses, barely a whisper. “I want to right my wrongs. There was something I left out for him though, something Jaewoo will not know. Call it… an insurance policy.”

“Seokjin. What are you talking about?”

His gaze darkens. “When you summon an Archdemon, the demon will not have its own body.”

“What do you mean,” I blurt, struggling to understand. “It won’t have a body – what does that matter?”

“It will want one.” Seokjin says this simply, still not looking away. “It will take over the body of the magic user it deems to be strongest. The Archdemon will devour that individual and consume their soul.”

“Shit,” Yoongi exhales.

“Yes.” Seokjin’s gaze moves sideways. “Shit.”

“So,” I backpedal, beginning to connect the dots. “If Jaewoo succeeds, not only will we have the apocalypse on our hands – the beginnings of hell on earth – but the very first person to die… will be Jaewoo?”

“Or.” Seokjin’s eyes glint, urging me to understand. “Whoever the Archdemon considers the strongest.”

“Taehyung,” I breathe.

This time I don’t wait – I step, twisting in mid-air to disappear. While I leave, I manage to brush Seokjin’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” I say, and he nods in return.

Yoongi disappears when I do, tumbling from air to land on the pavement. “Ah,” he gasps, stumbling forward. “What now?”

“Follow me,” I instruct, breaking out in a run. I don’t bother to reprimand him for following because truthfully, I need all the help I can get. “Thanks,” I pant, glancing sideways. “I owe you one.”

Yoongi catches up to me quickly, shaking his head. “No, you don’t,” he responds – and I leave it at that.

I’m not sure where I’m running, just that I am. There’s something pulling me forward, maybe a hunch or maybe intuition. I could be wrong; this could be a trap – but something inside me still pushes on. While we pass by the stadium, I spot the bright lights of a newly opened bar. Possibly the one Julia and James went dancing at that one night, though I can’t be sure. Veering diagonally, my feet pound the pavement as Yoongi closes in.

“Where are we going,” he gasps, rounding the corner.

I skid to a stop, Yoongi nearly slamming into me from behind as I blankly examine the scene before us. Then I am off, I’m running again. I barely stop to think, confirming what I already suspected. It’s Jaewoo. He’s the summoner, the warlock behind the killings – it’s Jaewoo, despite the token he had earlier.

His trace is the one I felt when Seokjin handed over the token. I should have recognized it earlier, should have known from the beginning. When we met, Jaewoo was careful not to touch me. Yesterday, when I accidentally brushed his arm – Jaewoo reacted oddly, and that feeling of nostalgia swept through me. It was because I recognized him, though I couldn’t place it at the time. I’d only felt the trace once prior, attempting to trace spells in the alley.

Now that I understand though, now that I’m piecing it together – my heart feels heavy with anguish. I can see them before me – Taehyung kneeling, hair hanging down in his gaze and Jaewoo standing on the edge of the circle, not yet noticing Yoongi nor I.

Not yet. He is too busy monologuing, gesticulating wildly – off to the side, a knife is held at Julia’s throat.

Her body lies limp, unconscious and I realize Jaewoo has taken her solely to hurt me – vision blurring, my feet fly faster as I sprint towards the action. Suddenly, Yoongi slams into me from behind. I yelp, slim fingers wrapping around my mouth as Yoongi yanks me sideways, into a doorframe.

His body presses tightly to mine, the voices behind us suddenly stopping.

Yoongi widens his eyes to implore I remain silent. Body slowly relaxing, I realize now how rash I was being. To appear in their midst would be stupid, and I hope it hasn’t cost us the advantage. In the alleyway behind us, Jaewoo resumes speaking and I feel Yoongi gradually relax.

“Idiot,” he hisses, low enough that I hear. “You can’t just butt in like that – it’s the quickest way to get Julia killed.”

I nod, somewhat guilty – before I lean back and crane my head to one side. “Why is he just sitting there,” I murmur, scanning the courtyard. “Why isn’t Taehyung attacking Jaewoo? He’s far stronger than his brother.”

“Maybe he can’t.” Yoongi is also looking. “Maybe his brother has trapped him, somehow.”

He’s right. Taehyung is not kneeling, he’s struggling and from my half-view, I see him clearly straining against bonds. I can’t see what’s binding him though, which reminds me of a similar alleyway.

“Yoongi,” I whisper, still staring at Taehyung. “What if Jaewoo did to Taehyung, what he did to me? What if Taehyung is powerless?” I venture.

Beneath his breath, Yoongi swears. “I think,” he manages to say, dry as ever, “that this is the first time I’ve ever wanted that dung heap to be powerful.” Yoongi grumbles again, twisting his head. “Fuck.”

Jaewoo reaches out, twisting a hand. I cannot hear what he says but Julia’s back arches off the pavement – twisting sharply, before dropping back down. Her head hits the curb, and Taehyung stifles a sob. She must be drugged because from here, I can still see her lungs expanding. They rise, fall as Taehyung keeps fighting to get free, fighting to save her but it’s pointless. He continues to be dragged back, again and again.

Jaewoo stands above them both, arms outstretched. He’s chanting, I realize, a spell which must be working as the outer edge of the circle glows. Jaewoo bare his teeth in a manic gesture – and my stomach sinks to the ground, seeing him pleased.

The spell must be working. 

This is it. My eyes close, understanding coursing through me. This is it; we’ve run out of time. I can no longer afford to be careful. We will all die in the next ten minutes if something does not change and so, I stand and shove Yoongi aside.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp, darting forward.

Yoongi’s fingers close about my wrist, yanking me back. “Remember,” he hisses in my ear, heavy and hot. “Remember the prophecy, Y/N – do you remember?”

Faltering, I glance sideways at him. “What about it?” I choke, eyes brimming with tears. “The part where my love will fall? Are you saying Taehyung is destined to die, so I need to let him? All because of a stupid prophecy,” I hiss, yanking my grip free. “I don’t accept it, I can’t!”

“No!” Yoongi hisses, but I step into the clearing.

Several things happen at once.

The first, Jaewoo sees me.

His eyes narrow in anger – and in fear, I realize, since he did not think I would come here.

The second, is I can see the spell. It’s not the same one he used on me, since both Jaewoo and Taehyung are visible – but a wave of air surrounds them, rippling in the circle of light. I come to a stop at the edge of this, hovering uncertainty.

The third, is Taehyung.

He twists around, meeting my gaze – the moment he sees me, his expression crumbles. His fear is palpable, greater than Jaewoo’s because Taehyung thought I was safe before now. He thought I was far away, and although I cannot hear his thoughts (whatever spell Jaewoo has cast sees to that), I know him to be devastated.

I don’t have time to dwell on this, since the last thing which happens is I finally understand. I realize what Yoongi was saying. I realize I was right.

I am not the heir.

Staring at the scene, at Taehyung kneeling before his brother –at the knife, held dangerously close to Julia’s throat, I suddenly understand. The circle smokes, light cracking from the pavement – and I stare at it all, transfixed.

Taehyung is the heir.

One day there might, rise black as night, a shadow ever growing.

Come if you dare, light’s chosen heir, and turn from darkness knowing.

Your love will fall, betray them all, raise demons from the madness.

The end is clear, find light my dear, for peace shall come with morning.

Taehyung is the heir, his love is his brother – which means Taehyung was also right, in thinking the love was not meant to be romantic. His brother has betrayed him in raising these demons. But even though I finally understand – I realize this doesn’t matter when Jaewoo’s expression hardens.

His hand is swift and decisive cutting Julia’s throat. The knife slices as she crumples, lifeless at his feet.

My mouth opens, a wordless scream ripped from my throat as rage crumbles my vision and turns it black at the seams. The night rings in my ears, gaze blurred as I struggle to comprehend what my body does.

I sprint forward, hitting the spell and am jerked swifly backwards, my breath yanked from my lungs. Invisible bindings seize me as I fall to the pavement.

Everything is frozen.

My limbs, thoughts – my eyes, locked with Jaewoo’s. He stares back at me, hand outstretched – and lowers my body gently to the ground.

“No,” he whispers. “You will not ruin this for me, witch.”

I grit my teeth, trying to speak but unable. I can hardly breathe from the force of his spell. When I manage to look sideways to Taehyung, I find him staring back.

His gaze is tortured, and I know he is scared. Not for himself, but for me and seeing this, my heartbeat turns frantic. I want to tell him it’ll be okay, I want to tell him I’ll be fine – but I don’t know that I will. Before us, shadows shoot up from the ground. The darkness twists and climbs, gaining in mass until it hovers, flickering endlessly over the lifeless body.

I stare at this in horror, struggling to comprehend. Jaewoo has killed Julia – I saw him do it, saw him slide the knife against her throat. I must be in shock though, since I keep thinking if I can just get to her, I can fix this. I strain against my bonds, feeling hot tears leak down my cheeks to the pavement. If I can just touch her – I’m a witch, for god’s sake. 

And then I remember Yoongi. He is still somewhere in the shadows, blending into the darkness. Yoongi can save her, I tell myself, Yoongi can save us all – but when I look up, my blood is like ice. Even if Yoongi does manage to enter the circle, even if he does keep hold of his magic, I don’t know how we can ever defeat this.

Above us, the Archdemon billows, shapeless in night. The circle around us trembles, Julia’s blood steaming violet from where it touches the ground. At first, I think the air is blue, then red, then a vibrant, sickly green. The demon seems to command it all, sucking color and life from the world.

“Whoo…” The thing hisses, voice wheedling. “Has summonnned me, here?”

Jaewoo takes a decisive step forward. “It is I,” he declares, lifting his chin. “I have brought you here for my bidding.”

The thing pauses, staring at him before starting to laugh. I wince, the noise too cold and lifeless to be called laughter. My stomach sinks in fear when Jaewoo’s face falters.

“Foollll,” the thing hisses, refusing to solidify. Beneath the Archdemon’s body, Julia’s face is deathly pale. She seems to wake slightly for a moment, muscles spasming violently as life drains from her limbs. “Youu do not underrrstand, warlock.”

I struggle but fail to break Jaewoo’s spell. Beside me, Taehyung continues to do the same but it’s not working and now, our only hope left is Yoongi. The hope is dim though, since I don’t understand how he could even stop this. Julia’s life is draining too fast – once she’s dead there will be no turning back. Nothing will stop the Archdemon from solidifying.

Wind whips my hair, frenzied by the Archdemon’s presence. It heralds the end of the world, and I wonder why Jaewoo can’t see it – and then my heart sinks, realizing he sees nothing at all. Jaewoo is too blinded by his pride, his ambition and we are all alone in saving this world.

Yoongi slips, unnoticed between buildings. I see him do this, but no one else does – which seems like a miracle. Or, perhaps not, I realize, when the demon looks in our direction.

“I toldd you,” the Archdemon says, exhaling in vindication. “Youuuu would never command me. Butttt…” It pauses, shadows rippling outwards. “Your brotherr.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen when the thing moves. The Archdemon lunges forward– and is pulled quickly back to the circumference of the circle.

“Whattt,” the demon hisses, edges scarlet. It looks down then, identifying the still-dying woman beneath it. “Ahhh,” the Archdemon muses, watching Julia’s blood darken in her veins, “the incantation is nottt complete.”

Jaewoo opens his mouth, brow furrowed in response – and Yoongi runs from the shadows. His light is blinding, utterly brilliant and my heart soars with hope. Yoongi has always good at protective spells, has always been good at shielding – so when he runs straight through the spell, Yoongi grins, seeing his magic has held.

Yoongi does not stop for Taehyung, nor I. Instead, he makes straight for Julia – seeing this, Jaewoo whirls. Stretching out a hand, he frantically imbues the circle. The Archdemon turns to face Yoongi and I yell, my voice at last breaking through the spell – 

“YOONGI!”

He turns at the sound – his eyes widen, dodging the magic before it electrifies the place he once stood. Throwing himself on the ground, Yoongi rolls sideways – and Jaewoo disappears, grasping Julia by the neck to pull back.

Now, it is Taehyung who moves. “NO!” he cries, wrenching himself free from the spell – but it is too late.

Julia’s neck cracks, hitting the curb. She slumps forward, limp body on pavement and Jaewoo’s eyes widen – before he is flung backwards, the outline of the circle erupting into flames. The Archdemon cackles, smoke spiraling upwards to join his disjointed form. Taehyung shudders to a halt and he stands, the horror plain on his face as the demon slowly turns.

“You idiot!” Yoongi roars over the chaos. Wind whips his hair, body straining with effort as he slowly walks forward. “Do you even know what the price of a summoning is, Kim Jaewoo?”

Ignoring him, Jaewoo concentrates instead on holding me captive. His neck muscles strain, fighting my magic – because to Jaewoo, he thinks I’m his biggest threat. Taehyung is otherwise occupied, rushing to Julia while my eyes water in fear. I feel myself losing control, gaze turning crimson while I struggle to decipher what is wrong, what is right.

Fighting his way forward, Yoongi stretches out his hand. “The Archdemon needs a host, Jaewoo,” he yells. Jaewoo goes suddenly still. He freezes in place, gaze flicking to Yoongi. “It needs a body,” Yoongi roars, “and it won’t choose the one who raised it! It will choose the strongest!”

Taehyung slowly looks up, huddled over Julia’s body on the ground. I stop fighting Jaewoo, sensing his moment of realization.

Taehyung’s expression is bleak and, realizing what this means, I collapse in on myself. Julia is dead. Julia is gone. Her existence has ended, which means I have failed. Grief, great and terrible, arcs through me. And still, the nightmare is not over.

Above Taehyung’s head, the Archdemon expands – only to collapse, ribbons of darkness shooting down in a spiral.

There is no time to mourn, since the Archdemon finds Taehyung with a possessive glee. Taehyung gasps –his knees hit the ground as the shadows stream into him. The process is violent and fast; his head is snapped back while the life physically drains from him. I try to move forward but feel as though I’m swimming in molasses.

Jaewoo’s hold on my magic lessens a tad. I look up, seeing him staring horrified at the sight of his brother.

In that moment, I think I understand. I think I do – so many people make wishes, only to realize it is not what they wanted. Taehyung said Jaewoo is the only other person he’s ever loved. I remember the memory of Jaewoo coming to find Taehyung in a dingy, elementary school bathroom – and I know Jaewoo loves Taehyung, too.

It is clear in his eyes, trained on him now.

No matter their estrangement, Jaewoo’s resentment – I know he did not want this. He wanted to prove himself – but what does that mean without Taehyung? Eyes squeezing shut, Jaewoo seems to forget about me – which is his first mistake of the evening. The moment my magic is returned, I disappear.

Reappearing before him, I slam his body to the ground, blinded by rage.

Jaewoo’s head cracks on the pavement – I imagine there would be a sound, if I could hear anything over the roar. My vision is blurred, and I cannot understand beyond the feeling of Jaewoo’s skin beneath my palms. He chokes, sputtering words – and Yoongi manages to break through my madness.

His arms wrap around my waist, yanking me bodily off Kim Jaewoo.

He shouts something at me, though I don’t understand what. When Yoongi gestures, waving frantically– I turn sideways and freeze, magic at the tips of my fingers. Taehyung stares back at me, eyes watering while he fights off the demon.

He seems barely able to speak, but rasps, “Get him out of here.”

Him – meaning Jaewoo.

My entire body slackens, arms still held by Yoongi. Taehyung opens his mind then, flooding me with mental images. He loves me. He wants me to have the world, wanted to share it all with me. But the Archdemon – my breath catches in understanding. Taehyung can feel it taking over. He understands the demon is too strong and will eventually overtake him – and once Taehyung is gone, there will be no stopping it.

Taehyung cannot allow it to happen.

The demon, Taehyung winces, eyes fluttering, I can feel him. Hear him inside me. He’s chaos, just chaos – but he’s weak as he enters my body. If it’s, Taehyung falters, if its host … dies.

No, I choke, fighting against Yoongi’s grip. No!

Taehyung’s veins stand out in his neck, struggling to pull himself together. If I die, he says quietly. The world will live. You will live.

I am crying freely now. Tears stream down my face, since it’s not fair – this entire night is unfair. Taehyung will die either way – if the Archdemon consumes him, or if he sacrifices himself. 

It’s not fair, I send back, pleading, I love you.

He stares at me, eyes bright in the embers of the circle. I’m sorry, he whispers. I love you, too. And you, he adds, looking to Jaewoo. Nothing you do will change that.

Jaewoo’s eyes are watering as well – he stares at them, horrified while the shadows strengthen their hold. Taehyung’s veins darken, standing out on his skin. He closes his eyes, gasping breath from his lungs – and suddenly, the night changes. 

While Taehyung spoke to my mind, I did not pay attention. I was not looking behind me, at either Yoongi or Jaewoo – which is why I did not hear them speak. I do feel when Yoongi’s arms wrap around me tighter.

Yanking me backwards, he shoves me to the ground – and Jaewoo moves, sprinting forward. He lands in the center of the circle, steeling himself to life both arms high.

“He asked me to stop you,” Yoongi whispers, choked with emotion. “Jaewoo asked you don’t interfere.”

I can hardly think, dazed against the pavement. “Why would you agree to do…”

The circle explodes.

Brilliant, blinding light arches upwards as Jaewoo’s magic unleashes. It coils above him, wrapping the Archdemon and forcing it backwards. Jaewoo’s teeth grit, eyes wide – no longer in fear, but determination. His face reddens, slowly pulling the Archdemon out of his brother. I can feel the thing hesitate, feel it hovering, since the Archdemon responds to the strongest – and here is Jaewoo, the strongest of all.

“I love you,” Jaewoo gasps to Taehyung.

Taehyung cannot hear him, too dazed from the shadows – I feel him tense, preparing to end it all – and then the Archdemon stops, abruptly withdrawing. Jaewoo pulls it forward, enticing it closer while the thing above him hisses in excitement. Shadows unfurl, retracing their path as Taehyung collapses, coughing bile onto the pavement. His body breaks, unable to move while the demon enters his brother.

Jaewoo opens his arms to accept it. The thing he called forth, the evil he unleashed upon the world – Jaewoo welcomes it back. The Archdemon moves faster now, as though it gained strength from Taehyung.

It spirals quickly into Jaewoo while he shudders from the force. “Taehyung,” he chokes, his blood ebony and boiling. “I’m so sorry.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen in realization, and he lunges – only to fall to the pavement, his limbs rubbery with disuse. Jaewoo closes his eyes, his expression oddly gentle for the first time since I have known him. 

The night goes completely dark.

Peace, then chaos.

The circle explodes and I am flung bodily backwards. Yoongi’s limbs fall from my body – he has been holding me this entire time – and I tumble, haphazardly onto the curb. I don’t know if it’s day or night, if my eyes are open or shut, as Jaewoo vanquishes the dark.

Everything spins around me, everything becomes nothing – it could be hours, or maybe days later when I slowly come to. The first thing I notice is my hearing, a deadened ringing of the ears. When I finally open my eyes, the first thing I see is Taehyung. He has crawled to his brother – he holds Jaewoo soft in his arms, cradling him to his chest like a mother and child. He is crying. Hot, angry tears which fall upon his brother’s body.

I do not know how I get there, but somehow, I am beside him. My arms wrap around Taehyung’s shoulders, allowing him to fall apart. Jaewoo’s limbs slacken and Taehyung holds onto him together –I hold onto Taehyung in turn. His face crumples, inconsolable and I know there is nothing I can do. There are no words, no actions to heal this kind of hurt.

Jaewoo saved us. I begin to cry then too, torn between my hurt for Jaewoo and hurt for Julia. Jaewoo gave himself in the end to save his brother. He gave himself to save the world. When it mattered most, Jaewoo reached for redemption.

One day there might, rise black as night, a shadow ever growing.

Come if you dare, light’s chosen heir, and turn from darkness knowing.

Your love will fall, betray them all, raise demons from the madness.

The end is clear, find light my dear, for peace shall come with morning. 

Find light, my dear. It was a question not to the heir, but to Jaewoo. The prophecy also contained a plea for Jaewoo to save himself. He did, in the end.

“He saved us,” I whisper, broken into Taehyung’s neck.

He nods, body gone limp. “Mourning,” he croaks out – and at first, I don’t understand.

When I do, the tears begin to fall harder. Taehyung refers to the last word of the prophecy. The one I always thought of as ‘morning.’ The breaking of dawn, the start of the day – it means this. A new day now, begun without Jaewoo. Within it lies another meaning though, one which now seems clear in hindsight.

Mourning. Peace shall come with mourning.

Gently, the dawn breaks over the sky.

[Master List]

Author’s Note: There is an Epilogue, so stay tuned. Thank you for reading so far ~

[omnical]

I Sing the Body Electric... (2/?)

( Previous - Next )

Summary: Dr. Angela Ziegler knows a few things about Detective Fareeha Amari.

Genre: AU, Romance. Dark humor, supernatural elements.

Characters/Pairings: Angela, Fareeha, Pharmercy; minor: Lucio, Mei

Rating: T, mentions of body gore and third party violence, dark humor.

Links: AO3

Dr. Angela Ziegler did not know what she was doing with her life.

To be fair, she never expected to be haunted by her own insecurities, but Angela supposed reaching her thirties was the primary culprit of her sudden change of heart. She never used to worry, and never used to wonder if she was wasting her life by focusing on her work, until she found it barely made her happy anymore. 

Sometimes Angela allowed herself to sink back into her memories. Mostly whenever feelings of intense sadness came into her mind, unbidden. Memories of when she was a child in her father’s study, wide-eyed and curious about his strange books, and colorful anatomical models with their detachable parts.

She remembered examining them with her pudgy toddler hands, lower lip sticking out as she took them apart --  cillary body, choroid, sclera, lens -- before putting the parts back together again. She liked putting them back together again.

She remembered her parents telling her how smart she was, how good she was, pride lighting their eyes. If she tried hard enough, Angela could still remember their voices. It helped lift her spirits up, sometimes.

However, her parents’ untimely passing did not exhaust love and warmth from her life. She lead a happy and carefree childhood, after her parents died. Her aunt and uncle tried their hardest to fill that silence in her heart with their own voices, and sometimes Angela thought it worked. Your mother and father would have been so proud of you, Angela.

And now, after making a living out of being smart, she became Auntie Dr. Angela, who sent the best sweets and the newest toys despite missing family gatherings for the holidays sometimes.

And birthday parties.

And weddings. Video calls.

Auntie’s funeral.

“It’s all right, my dear. Maybe you can come next year?”

...

Dr. Lindholm found Angela dissociating in front of her computer monitor one day.

He brought her hot chocolate from the coffee machine in the pantry, the beverage watery and clumped up with cheap chocolate powder. And with it, he effectively coaxed her out of her mental calisthenics. She was like a terrified critter hiding inside her burrow. “You always did think too much for your own good.” He said.

She had no one else to turn to, no one else to confide in, until Dr. Lindholm, poorly hiding the hurt he felt after Angela hesitated to tell him initially, managed to make her spill everything with one look.

“When I was your age, I ended up working myself to the bone, too.” Dr. Lindholm grumbled through his words, speaking with a gruff gentleness only a father of seven would have. “Until my poor wife knocked some sense into this hard noggin’ of mine, and I had to look back at myself and what I was missing. But that’s life.”

“Why did you decide to stay?”

“I was happy with my job and I still am.” He answered, tugging his mustache with a thumb and forefinger. “Sometimes you need to figure out what’s best for you, get your hands dirty. But it is different for everybody, Angela. Whatever worked for me might not work for you. These things don’t come with a manual.”

“I see.”

“Guess that means you can do whatever the hell you want.”

“It would be easier if I knew what I wanted to do.”

“Take a day off.” Dr. Lindholm said, patting her shoulder. “Away from all this crap. Maybe that will help clear your head?”

Angela walked to a pub that evening with some of her coworkers, some of them surprised that one of their local recluse bothered to join them at all. She holed herself up against the corner of the pub at first, until Dr. Winston invited her to throw a few darts with him, which was fun despite missing the dartboard the entire time. She also cheered for a losing football team, got into a heated debate about rugby with a baffled stranger, drinking pint after pint. Mirthful brown eyes watched her all night.

After getting ‘plenty pissed’, she went home. Angela woke up with a bad hangover, her mouth sour, and a pulsing headache, wondering if her night out helped.

She felt inclined to disagree after vomiting all over her bathroom floor. It took hours until she mustered the strength to clean up after her own mess.

The next day, Dr. Angela Ziegler deleted her resignation letter, and never thought about quitting her job again.

The steel autopsy table glinted from the bright surgical lights overhead.

When Angela closed her eyes, blinding spots shaped like surgical light bulbs flashed behind her eyelids. She blinked, long and hard, willing them to go away.

When she opened them again, she noticed Lucio was sending her a look over the autopsy table, a pair of forceps in his hand.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“I can see that.”

Angela looked down at their patient.

Hi .

Time to get back to work.

An assistant drone whizzed past Angela’s eyesight with a mechanical hum. Its gears and internal mechanisms whirring and clicking, its optical eye taking photographs of the cadaver, and stowing away details for the report; breaking them down into categories. Nails, skin, hair. And while the drone did its work, Angela exhaled, letting a long breath whoosh from her lips.

“February 8, 1:45 PM. Female, forty-eight years old. Found in her living room, seven hours after time of death, which was estimated at: February 7, 10 PM. According to investigation reports, she died from an unwitnessed cardiac arrest.” Angela frowned beneath her medical mask. “Her family wanted to be sure about the cause of death. As far as we know, she was alone at home. No evidence of assault or struggle.”

The patient’s feet were swollen. Taut skin stretched across sharp lines of bone. The corpse’s flesh -- once brown and aglow with the rosy hue of life -- was now ashen and cold. The patient’s face was expressionless, grim. Mrs. Tanner looked peaceful in her final rest.

I am so sorry.

“Assistant drones found some areas of her clothing were singed.” Angela said. “Very slight, almost undetectable. There were no signs of burns on the corpse, either.”

“That’s weird.”

“Very weird.”

“The police reports never mentioned anything which might have caused it.” Lucio said, “Think it’s conclusive evidence, doc?��

“Maybe. If only things can be that easy.”

Angela fiddled with the plastic shield protecting her face. She fixed her rubber gloves around her wrists, listening to it snap against her skin, as if the sound would quell the storm forming inside her heart.

“Okay, I am ready.” Angela said, “Let’s open her up.”

Lucio handed her a scalpel.

…

“Wanna order Italian later, doc?”

“That sounds great. I’m craving garlic bread.”

“I know this place that makes amazing garlic bread. They make their own bread -- fancy restaurants always make their own bread -- so you know it’s super fancy. It’s a walk away from here, but totally worth it.” Lucio said. “Better not have too much, though, people say garlic breath is a turn off for some people. If you know what I mean.”

Angela held the sternal saw aloft. She sent him a dirty look.

“Hey, I'm just saying.”

“We are recording this session, Dr. dos Santos.”

“Nobody but us listens to it, anyway, what's the harm?”

“Ugh.” Angela turned the saw on and began to cut across the sides of their patient’s rib cage.

...

“Need help there, doc?”

“Yes.” Angela nodded. “Take this to the tray, please.”

“Got it.”

“Thank you.”

Working with the dead followed a careful step-by-step scientific process.

“Checking the pericardial sac. Scalpel, please? The small one.”

The other half of the job was to understand the abstract.

“Maybe a towel, too.” she added. “There is a lot of liquid in the cavity.”

Whenever Angela got bored during her trip to and from work, she found herself watching ordinary people mill about in their daily lives. A person showing signs of nicotine addiction. An elderly woman waiting in a cafe who was probably diabetic, her coffee order later confirming Angela’s guess. A child chasing a cat after recovering from a broken leg, maybe two or three weeks ago. They were textbook and precise observations, nearly perfected after years of practice.

Since their patients did not have the ability to speak for themselves anymore, or show discomfort, or express pain, they took it upon themselves to help reveal the dead’s final words. But it was the unpredictable human mind which added tons of variables and what-ifs in the equation; something unseen from the abstract could turn a murder case around and present truths from lies. Their patient’s final meal. Their medicine intake. Past ailments. Angela had a knack for the abstract.

“What do you think so far?” Dr. dos Santos asked, helping her lift a layer of flesh with a large pair of forceps.

Dr. Ziegler, hands deep inside the body’s chest cavity, answered. “Homicide.”

“How’d you figure?”

“Let’s call it a gut feeling, doctor.” An amused wrinkle appeared around Angela’s eyes, revealing the smile under her mask.

“Ha, very funny.” Lucio said. “Are you suggesting a killer clown appeared from her television screen and scared her to death?” He chuckled, “We should send that report to the Chief of Police. Get his grouchy ass storming our office.”

"Wouldn’t that be a sight."

“Speaking of the Chief of Police--”

Angela and Lucio jumped at the new voice.

A short woman, round-faced and perky, smiled at them from behind the autopsy room doors. “I am so sorry for interrupting you guys." she said with a nervous giggle, "How is the examination going?”

“Lucio and I are still not finished with this one, Mei.” Angela said, bowing her head in apology. “Would it be possible if you told Captain Morrison we will finish this after three?”

“Okay,” Mei shrugged, throwing the pair a knowing look. “I guess I’ll tell Detective Dimples to come back another time.”

Dr. Ziegler dropped her scalpel in Mrs. Tanner’s chest.

“Oh, shit.”

Detective Amari was here.

Detective Fareeha Amari.

Fareeha Amari. She was here.

Angela skidded to a halt outside her office door, and took a moment to stare at the twisted knotholes of the wood. Blue eyes, dancing like two fading matchsticks, unable to focus where she was looking until Angela concentrated all her intent on the silver of the doorknob. She had to find the strength to open the door eventually.

Angela worried her lower lip, fingers combing the messy rat’s nest of hair on her head. She tugged at the lapels of her white coat, which smelled of antiseptic and murk from the autopsy earlier. It stank on her skin, under her nose, and her eyes had deep bags under them, as if they were two small ditches dug out by a worn trowel. The scent and look of death always clung to her, but she thought it was impossible to look nice after spending hours in the morgue.

After a few moments shifting her weight between her feet, she willed steel into her bones and pushed the door open. A beam of white light from the hallway’s fluorescent lighting escaped through the gap, and as soon as she opened the door, a person’s shadow revealed itself stretched out onto the rug. She hesitated, her eyes adjusting from the dim room after walking through the hall. Dark clouds covered the sun, the rain pelting her window, overall encompassing her office with a dreary, gray overtone.

When her eyes adjusted to the lack of lighting, Angela’s gaze followed the unmoving shadow to its source -- who was wearing a pair of soggy black shoes.

Her eyes traced up to dark trouser pants, pressed, creased, hiding a pair of elegant, long legs. A coat hung over their shoulders, limp and drenched from the afternoon rain.

Detective Fareeha Amari loomed above Angela’s desk, surveying the mass of documents and towers of folders strewn about. Her head quirked to the side, probably in curiosity, hair dripping with rain water. It was a miracle Detective Amari did not notice Angela leaning against the doorway, her knees folding over each other, wobbling like jelly.

Taking a shaky step forward, Angela closed the door behind her, careful so as not to startle her visitor. She licked her lips, mind racing over ideas on how to greet the detective without looking like a baffled idiot. Just a simple greeting. She had to sound calm, firm, use her customer service telephone voice. That always worked.

‘Fancy seeing you here, Detective Amari. You cut a dashing figure, as always.’

That was horrible.

“Dr. Ziegler,” Angela forced herself to abandon her thoughts, dragging her eyes away from the pair of long legs gracing her office, and into Detective Amari’s eyes. Dark brown eyes, almost black. It left her rooted on the spot, her knees stopped wobbling like jelly. “Glad to see you again, doctor.”

“Fancy dashing you here."

Detective Amari raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips quirking to an amused grin. “I’m sorry?”

Angela cleared her throat. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

There were a few things Angela knew about the mysterious Detective Fareeha Amari.

First. She had a stress ball tucked inside her jacket pocket at all times. It was orange, like a basketball.

Second. She wore a lady’s suit at work, and sometimes a baggy windbreaker jacket during colder days, instead of a blazer. She wore a pair of jeans and a baseball cap during stakeouts and sting operations. She always looked perfect.

Third. She did not mind being referred to as a they, or a he, or a she. “Doesn’t matter.” Detective Amari said once, “Please call me whatever you like.”

Fourth. A week ago, Detective Amari had a cut on her cheek and a broken finger. Two weeks before that, a suspect made her long nose crooked for a while. Three months ago, she broke her leg after falling off a flight of stairs in the precinct.

Today a broken arm hung over her chest in a sling, and half of her face was swollen and purple like a bowl of bruised mangoes and grapes.

Fifth. Fareeha knew a few things about Dr. Angela Ziegler.

"Please tell me those bandages aren’t hiding anything serious.”

“Got roughed up a couple of days ago." Detective Amari said.

“You should take better care of yourself, detective.”

“I’m used to it, doctor. Occupational hazard.” She smiled, motioning at her cast. “Comes with the territory.”

Angela shook her head and scoffed, trying to keep herself from being charmed by the curve of Fareeha’s full lips, and the grin reaching her eyes. “Oh, nonsense. Let me get you something.”

Detective Amari faltered, “I hope I am not intruding, doctor?”

Angela waved away her weak excuses, and began searching for a towel, a handkerchief -- anything that could help her friend. She ignored a few empty drawers, and quickly closed the one overflowing with rubbish before Fareeha saw her shame.

Finally, she found a hand towel from her tote bag, and handed it Detective Amari with an embarrassed chuckle.

“I guess I should have been better prepared, considering the local weather.” Angela said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s horrible, isn’t it? Always raining, and dark, and...” --   stop talking about the weather, Angela -- “Anyway, I hope this can help.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Fareeha smiled, and took the offered towel from Angela’s hand. “To be fair, it’s not everyday a soaked idiot comes in dripping water everywhere after forgetting to bring an umbrella.”

“Indeed. I mean, you’re not an idiot. That’s not what I meant.” Angela twisted her fingers around each other, resisting the urge to caress the bruises on Detective Amari’s cheek. “And you are free to intrude on my work any time, by the way. I don’t mind.”

Detective Amari opened her mouth, pausing as if she was about to apologize for the second time, before changing her mind. “Thank you.”

“Wuh -- ” Words, Angela. “Would you like to take a seat and tell me why you got injured, this time?”

“Just a group of guys assaulting a kid in an alleyway.” She replied with a tight smile, shaking her head. “We didn’t expect it to turn into a car chase across the square to sixth avenue. Backed them up into a building, where they had friends waiting. One of them sucker punched me.”

“Oh, goodness.”

“I broke my arm after tripping over a rubbish bin an hour later.”

“Sounds... exciting.”

“And a lot of paperwork,” Detective Amari frowned. “Which is less fun compared to a car chase, I guess.” She handed Angela the damp towel after attempting to dry her face. Detective Amari took a moment to comb her hair back with her fingers, dark strands curling over her cheek, making it look both neat and tousled and... “Maybe you should take a seat, doctor? Your knees are shaking.”

Angela felt herself fall into her leather chair, boneless -- she cleared her throat. “So, how can I help you today, Detective Amari? Is this about a case?”

The detective tensed, her mouth turning into a frown as she leaned against the edge of the desk, fingers gripping the edge. “Yes, in fact.” She pulled out a thick case file from inside her suit jacket, and Angela wondered how she kept it dry and intact after running through the rain.

“We got a video clip.”

Dr. Ziegler flipped through case file, her knuckles white as she flipped through the pages. Pictures and reported evidence spread across desk in a mess, all of which she still remembered fresh in her mind, while the newly found puzzle-piece played on her computer monitor in a loop.

“Maybe the recording was tampered?”

“Maybe.” Detective Amari scratched the bandage under her chin. “Our techie couldn’t find anything suspicious in the recording. Or the recorder, for that matter. There were no time skips, no evidence of anything being erased. No tampering, as far as we know.”

“So his wife hid the camera inside the… ?”

“She hid the camera inside his bookcase.”

“Because she suspected her husband was cheating on her.”

“I know what this looks like. Jealous wife murders husband, plants fake or tampered evidence to get us off her trail.” Detective Amari said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “It is true Mrs. Finnegan has a clear motive, but why would she give us the recording? She could have destroyed it, and we would have never known it existed.”

“Detective,” Angela pulled her glasses from her nose. She paused, resting the spectacles on her thigh. “Are you prepared to tell me he was killed by an invisible creature?”

They shared a look.

“These strange cases have been popping up left and right.” Angela said. “We were working on another case before you came to visit, and believe me when I say I can’t wrap my head around that one either.” She leaned against her chair with a tired huff. “They all look like natural causes -- our autopsies reveal they are natural cases. Oftentimes we leave it as is and shelf it, but I’m often at a loss. It always feels wrong, somehow. Off. Like there’s something missing.”

“I know.” Detective Amari pushed herself away from Angela’s desk. “I feel the same.”

The detective stared at the wall opposite Angela, deep in thought. After a while, the square of her shoulders deflated. “I just came by to inform you, doctor. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you think of anything. Invisible men, werewolves, body-snatchers, whatever you guys figure out.” she chuckled, finding no humor in her words. “As long as there's evidence backing it, I’m willing to hear anything at this point.”

“This is something your techie can figure out more than I can.” Angela said. She smoothed down the crinkles of her dress shirt, trying to find something her fingers could be busy with while the detective stood too close in front of her. Their knees were almost touching. “Strange video recordings aren’t my forte, unless...”

Detective Amari froze.

“No.”

“Unless I -- ”

“Absolutely not.” Fareeha pivoted around her heels and began to pace, her hand expressing her words wildly. “May I remind you about the last time you took a plunge? Light bulbs exploded, things floated around, creepy voices. And I think that body moved.”

“That was completely my fault. I forgot to mention temporary reanimation can happen sometimes.”

“You fainted and you stared at your hands for an hour, doctor."

"Now, I don't remember that..."

Fareeha shot her a dry look. "You were talking about yellow eyes.”

“Sometimes they get annoyed.”

“I nearly -- ” Fareeha closed her eyes and pulled away, biting the insides of her cheek. “I won’t let you go through that again. It’s too dangerous.”

“We don’t even know if I will make contact.” Angela glanced at the door in case anyone else was listening. “Besides, last time was just a tiny, tiny oversight.”

“A tiny oversight?”

“Fareeha, please listen to me?”

Fareeha closed her mouth and shook her head in disbelief, but decided to do as Angela insisted. Instead, she grabbed the orange stress-ball from inside her jacket pocket, and squeezed it with an iron grip.

“I have lived with this curse all my life, and I wasted so much time trying to forget it ever existed. I’m out of practice, I admit, but I am ready to keep trying.” Angela said. “Two times out of ten it can get worse. Three times out of eight, nothing happens. But there is a fifty-percent chance of us getting the answers we need."

"With the remaining fifty-percent possibility of the guy’s head spinning around? I can deal with poltergeists, maybe, but not that."

“The body’s head didn’t spin.” Angela groaned. "Look, whatever, or whoever is running around in this city, innocent people are getting killed.”

“And we’ll do our best to stop them.” Fareeha said. “We’ll search for other solutions. Our techie can check the video again, she’s a genius. The toxicology report is still pending. Maybe he got stung by a bee and he’s allergic. I dunno.” she winced. “Contacting crazy spirits should be our last resort, doctor. God, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“And what if there's no other way?”

“I’ll find another way."

“I can do this.” Angela said, almost jumping up from her chair. “I know I can do this.”

“Yes, but I can’t--” Fareeha said with a frustrated sigh, squeezing the ball hard until her hand shook. “I just wanted to update you about the case and tell you what we found. I wanted to make sure I wasn't losing my mind."

"You didn't show this video to anyone else, did you?" she asked, her sentence a statement more than a question. The detective's accompanying silence was enough of a reply.

"I can’t ask you to risk your life again." Fareeha said. "If something happens to you…“

Angela’s shoulders fell.

The rain outside seemed to grow in volume as they both regarded each other, silent and tight lipped. Heavy droplets pelting the windowpane, her desktop computer whirring, thunder rolling across the dreary city.

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Fareeha spoke again. “I can't lose you to one of those things, doctor. You are one of the few good friends I have.”

Angela felt her heart flutter. “Well,” she mumbled, inwardly cursing herself for folding under the spell of Fareeha Amari’s words too soon. “I’m, um, same. You are the same, to me, I mean. A friend.” She breathed in awe.

Detective Amari’s lips twitched into a weary smile, tucking her stress ball back inside her coat pocket. “Don’t fret about this case too much.” Her voice deepened in confidence, and Angela felt her back stiffen in attention. “Please leave it to me. I promise we’ll figure something out. Invisible creatures or no.”

“We will.”

“Are we okay?”

“We’re okay.” Angela croaked.

“Good.” Fareeha sighed in relief, “Shit, I need to go. Busy day in the precinct.”

“Of course.”

“Please take it easy, doctor, and don’t do anything without me. My apologies for taking too much of your time.”

Fareeha gathered the case documents from Angela’s desk, shoving it back inside her coat, and began to walk away before Angela could form a coherent reply. “You have my number, Dr. Ziegler, call me any time. I mean it.” Fareeha blindly reached for the door as she turned to look at Angela. Her dark eyes gripped Angela’s attention like a vice, that it seemed to glow under the dim lighting of the room. “Give me two weeks and maybe -- if all else fails -- maybe I will consider helping you do the other thing.”

“How about next week?” Lunch? Dinner? A movie?

An early morning jog around the park?

Oh, forget that, Angela. You can’t jog even if your life depended on it.

Fareeha laughed. “You are, by far, the toughest, most stubborn woman I have ever met. I’ll give you that, doctor.” she winked. “Two weeks, tops, and I promise I will help you.”

“I will take your word for it, detective.” Angela swallowed, her throat pushing down her traitorous thoughts, as if it would spill out of her mouth if she allowed them to stray.

“I’ll be seeing you.”

Angela tensed, her fingers digging into the arm of her chair as she watched the detective pull her door open with nary a backwards glance. “Wait, Fareeha.”

“Yes, doctor?”

Angela faltered, chewing her lower lip. Her heart aching as a billion sentences rolled through her head, most of them spontaneous invitations to places she has never seen before. But wouldn't it be nice if she had? With someone like the detective?

Live a little.

“Thank you.” Angela said, “For looking out for me.”

Surprise lit up Fareeha’s face. Her smile crooked, and her eyes warm. They felt like a hearth in Angela’s cold office.

“Any time, Dr. Ziegler.”

Detective Amari was already closing the door behind her before Angela could find it in herself to speak again. The last edges of her shadow disappearing underneath the frame; and with it, the final traces of her warm presence.

Notes: This took so so damn long, I'm not gonna lie folks, we spent the entire two month hiatus to expand this little one-shot into a hopefully more proper multi-chapter. We had a lot of fun plotting and planning things out, but man... did you know you can watch human autopsies online? Yeah... you can watch human autopsies online, full and very graphic ones. Very educational!

Anyway, unfortunately, we can't promise another prompt update (though at least now I know which direction and style we're goin with this), since I'll be moving apartments sometime around next month, and things will be incredibly busy as heck, but we will most definitely do our best :D

Thank you very much for reading! Have a nice day, everyone~

Edited (24/09/17): So soon! Had to post this very late and caught a few minor errors I overlooked :)