#I refuse to go through a rescue too many potential issues here

[border-collie]

Have another potential lead for a young female washed sheep dog who is local to me. I'm going to see if I can meet her, she is clicker trained and was posted by my training club which is promising behavioral wise

[sonnet009]

Wilder: Royo’s Story (Route Summary)

PROLOGUE:

MC decides not to flee Ziya but to instead wait for the guards to arrive, trusting that justice and truth will prevail. She is promptly arrested and thrown in prison to await her execution.

CHAPTER I:

Weeks pass and MC grows weak and despondent. Then one day an audaciously dressed djinn appears, knocks out the guards, and rescues MC from her cell. The djinn introduces herself as Royo and says that she has been sent here by an important man with a lot of coin. Royo smuggles MC out of the palace in an empty wine barrel, barely keeping her cover intact when one of the palace servants treats her like a lowly slave.

Outside and in the clear MC learns to her dismay that Royo was not sent by Uncle Makram to bring MC home, but by some mysterious other man to whom Royo intends to take her. Unable to overpower her or call out for help without being sent straight back to the dungeon, MC reluctantly goes along with Royo who has a horse waiting to carry both of them away into the desert.

In the Shining Sands Royo and MC cross paths with slavers returning to the city. One of the men recognises MC and Royo kills all of them before they can cause trouble. MC is horrified but Royo only shrugs. “Problem solved, princess.”

CHAPTER II:

Royo takes MC up into the Western Hills in an attempt to shake off any potential pursuers. She refuses to divulge the identity of her employer and will say only that he is a man who believes in MC's innocence. MC asks if Royo believes she is innocent, but Royo only replies that she doesn't care. Suddenly the two women are surrounded by a hunting party of wild djinn. Royo whispers to MC that they should bide their time for now and allows the djinn to escort them to their leader.

The tribe's chief is quickly charmed by Royo and agrees to let them stay there for the night, though he insists that MC is tied to a tree. During dinner two djinn children come to bring MC some food. Royo later takes MC – hands still tied – to a river to wash the grime away, claiming that her employer will be annoyed if MC is delivered to him looking so disheveled. MC notes that Royo seems to be enjoying MC's humiliation. Royo doesn't deny it. After all, she had to endure debasement at the hands of humans for years. “You will survive one night of indignity, princess.”

In the night a sudden storm rolls in. One of the children MC met before is swept into the river but is only noticed by MC, and no one will listen to her. Unable to swim but with no choice, MC leaps into the river to save the child. She manages to drag him to the bank before collapsing. As soon as the storm passes, Royo insists that she and MC move on.

CHAPTER III:

Royo and MC head up into the mountains known as the Knives. Feeling weaker and weaker, injuries from her clumsy rescue throbbing, MC finally passes out and falls to the ground. When she wakes it is in a cave, lit by firelight, resting in Royo's lap. Royo, unaware she is awake, is murmuring apologies for not realising MC had a fever and commendations for being brave enough to jump in the river and insults for being stupid enough to jump in the river.

When MC reveals that she is awake Royo nearly jumps out of her skin. She caught some rabbits earlier and has been cooking them on the fire. The two eat dinner together and Royo finally opens up a little more. She explains that her employer is Yasir, a member of the Guild that rules the city of Umar. He is famous as the human who emancipated the djinn of Umar and has taken great interest in MC, who killed the shah in the name of the slaves. MC protests that she didn't kill the shah, not for the slaves or anyone, but Royo already knows. It's simply a rumour that Yasir wants to capitalise on.

Once MC has recovered she and Royo continue their journey, though now they are more at ease with each other. Royo hits MC with her first snowball. They bathe together in a hot spring. Royo checks MC's still-healing wounds and tells her, “Next time, count on me.” She also muses that the tribe will probably remember MC's actions for a long time. It's not the kind of revolutionary action that will force change on a grand scale, but it wasn't bad. For a princess.

CHAPTER IV:

Past the Knives now, on the way to the port town of Dijarah, Royo finally tells MC the truth about Yasir's expectations. He wants MC to marry him. MC is appalled. Royo is sympathetic but firm, insisting that Yasir is a great man and her best option.

She tells the story of her young life as a criminal, slave to a gang of thieves. One day she tried to rob Yasir, just a simple merchant back then, only to have him declare that, if she helped him, he would free not just her but everyone like her. It was like being reborn, she says with a profound solemnity. MC starts to wonder if Royo is in love with Yasir.

Hamza and his men ambush them on the road. Hamza overpowers Royo but is unprepared for the headbutt she plants on him. Fleeing with MC on her back, Royo gives the soldiers the slip and comes to rest in an old barn. Royo tells MC to sleep while she keeps watch for the night but MC instead chooses to stay awake by her side.

CHAPTER V:

Once they arrive in Dijarah Royo buys dinner for them both at a local inn. A drunk man bumps into them and takes offence to Royo's lack of subservience. Royo brushes him off and suggests to MC that they take in the sights at the Fish Festival that is happening tonight, though that means delaying their journey by a day. MC is touched that Royo would do that for her, though Royo denies any sentimentality.

During the festival they walk through the lively streets and Royo seems to be on a mission to give MC as many new experiences as she can. “I wish we could see more things like this,” she says quietly, but they both know that she cannot be swayed from her duty to Yasir. The drunkard from earlier reappears with his friends, hurling insults at Royo and threatening violence. Royo handily disarms him – his friends are no help – and sends them all running.

This incident has upset Royo in a way MC has never seen before. Royo says that she is sick of people like him. She is a free woman but they'll never see her as anything but beneath them. The next day she and MC board a ship bound for Umar, Royo distant and closed off again.

CHAPTER VI:

MC is treated like nobility on the ship, at Royo's insistence. Royo says it is what Yasir would want but MC suspects this is another way for Royo to distance herself from her. Every night MC sleeps in a luxurious cabin while Royo sleeps outside.

One day, alone on deck, MC is grabbed from behind by a mysterious figure who whispers into her ear, “Justice for the shah,” before pushing her overboard. Royo arrives in time to save her but does not see the would-be assassin. She investigates the ship but cannot find any passenger without an alibi. That night she sleeps on the floor in MC's cabin and they fall asleep holding hands, a vow to protect MC on Royo's lips.

Days pass with no further attempts on MC's life. Royo is stuck to MC like glue, but their unresolved issues turn this into a volatile situation. During an argument Royo nearly kisses MC, then backs off – horrified at herself – and leaves the room. While MC waits for her to return and sorts through her own feelings, the assassin slips into the room.

CHAPTER VII:

Though MC is injured in the ensuing struggle Royo returns in time to thwart the assassin – a man hired by Hamza to shadow MC and wait for the right moment to enact “justice”. While tending to MC's new wounds Royo berates herself for being a terrible escort so far. She admits that it's because she's starting to want not to hand MC over to Yasir.

Giving in to their growing passion and feeling the looming threat of their time journeying together coming to an end, MC and Royo embrace each other and spend the rest of the voyage together in MC's cabin. Royo calls it “making the most of the time we still have”.

But eventually their stolen time together must end. The ship reaches Umar and they disembark. Though pained, Royo makes sure MC knows that they can never speak of this or do it again.

CHAPTER VIII:

When MC is brought before Yasir, it is not him alone waiting for her. Hamza stands beside him, intent on arresting MC and taking her back to Ziya for her execution. With no other way to protect herself, MC accepts Yasir's marriage proposal on the spot and Hamza leaves to avoid a diplomatic incident. Yasir introduces MC to the Guild, the seven most important people in Umar who rule the city as one. Though they should be equal, Yasir clearly leads them.

Yasir throws a ball to celebrate the engagement. MC ends up fleeing to a guest room and Royo follows. Both longing for each other, they give in to temptation but soon stop when the miserable reality of the situation becomes too heavy to ignore.

The night before the wedding MC cannot sleep and wanders Yasir's manor, wanting nothing more than to find Royo and beg her to run away with her. She finds Royo in furtive conversation with another djinn and eavesdrops on them. Through this MC learns three devastating things: 1. Royo and her co-conspirators arranged for the shah of Ziya's murder. 2. They plan to kill Yasir tomorrow before the wedding. And 3. They intend to frame MC as the culprit, and Yasir as the second husband she has had killed.

CHAPTER IX:

The manor is too abuzz with wedding preparations for MC to find anyone who will listen to her. Yasir is cloistered in his chambers and has no interest in seeing her until just before the ceremony. When it is just her, Yasir and Royo in the room, MC is surprised when nothing happens. No assassination. Things are not going according to the plan she heard last night at all.

The wedding goes ahead, vows are spoken, but everything is suddenly interrupted by a number of black-clad and masked djinn who storm the ceremony. While one stabs Yasir through the heart, killing him, another attacks MC. Royo cries out, “No!” and shields MC from the dagger, taking the wound herself. As chaos erupts throughout the crowd MC only has eyes for Royo, cradling her as she bleeds out on the ground. Through shuddering breaths Royo tells MC that she wasn't supposed to be hurt. MC confronts her about the plan but Royo says she changed the plan, not wanting MC to be a pawn in anyone's plots anymore – especially not hers. MC doesn't understand why this has happened. Royo's final words before she is dragged away by guards is, “His...coffer...”

While Royo is confined to the dungeon, MC searches Yasir's chambers. She unlocks the golden coffer by his bed and finds a mountain of evidence that he was far from the good-hearted revolutionary he pretended to be. His freeing of the slaves was a political stunt and the ultimate goal was to have them slide back into chains over time. Royo must have discovered this some time ago and has been plotting his downfall ever since. Not just his, but the downfall of all the tyrants who would keep her people enslaved. The documents also implicate the Guild in a lot of shady practices. MC takes what she knows to them and promises not to expose them; she just has one demand...

BITTER END:

MC demands that Royo is freed and pardoned. The Guild accepts and gifts MC her late husband's manor and wealth as further insurance that she will not be a problem for them.

Royo stays with MC for a while while she recovers but living in the manor in wilful ignorance of the injustice still present in Umar and beyond becomes suffocating for her. One night MC catches her trying to slip away from their bed leaving behind only a note. Royo says that she has to go, has to see the change she wants in the world be done, but promises to return if she can.

SWEET END:

MC demands her late husband's place in the Guild. With little choice, they accept. MC uses her new power to free and pardon Royo. The two of them return to Yasir's (now MC's) manor and spend most of their time working together to draw up proposals to bring before the Guild, forcing them to enact real and lasting change for the djinn. The one MC is most excited to put in place would be increasing the Guild's number by making Royo a member.

MC and Royo make no secret of their relationship, now able to be lovers openly and without shame. Royo proposes marriage –  when enough time of “mourning” has passed, of course. The large scar Royo has from the wedding day has become both a point of pride for her and a reminder not to forget that she isn't alone in this anymore.

[pinkbelugacollective]

On Yamihime & the Politics of Toxic Loyalty

I think about Yami’s history and his struggles, and wonder just how deeply Julius’ arrival affected his psyche. Here’s a man who collects squad members like they’re Pokemon, and has no problem giving them a home and a military title because, quite frankly, that’s what Julius did for him, and because Julius gave him a reason to live, then maybe the people Yami collects will also find their will to live.

Except Julius didn’t pick him off the street because he felt bad for him; he took him in because he had magic power, and magic/mana is what makes the man in Clover Kingdom.

It’s not to say Yami doesn’t know he’s a cog in the greater Clover military machine; I’m sure he does! I just think it’s important to note that even though Yami is aware he was brought in to be a tool, he has no problem making others tools as well, because his perception of loyalty and service is inherently warped. For Yami, it’s OK to give your life for someone, no matter what kind of person they are, if you owe your loyalty to that person. It’s also probably why Yami, despite being so perceptive and intelligent, has never questioned Julius’ authority, even though the kingdom is a shitshow from the capital all the way to the boonies.

Asta is critical to Yami’s narrative because Asta, despite being a magicless manlet, is also the only person in the Black Bulls who doesn’t come into the squad looking for comfort, family, and a place to belong. Asta already has all of that. He has comfort in the fact that he’s an ambitious little fuck, he has a family he’ll literally die for, and his home is Hage. The Magic Knights are a path to his goals, not the goal itself. This is a clear opposite of the Black Bulls at large, who are mostly depressed, prone to loitering, and have no motivation to heal and improve their magical abilities because they’re all suffering from depression, anxiety, etc., and the Black Bulls and Yami are really all they have, because they have nothing and no one else.

Prior to Asta’s arrival, the Black Bulls were largely fractured, and barely functioned as individuals, much less a team. Yami did nothing to foster camaraderie. He didn’t have to! They didn’t have to be loyal to each other, only Yami, because it wasn’t a brigade, it was a halfway house, and he was house master. Again, it’s not to say Yami willingly fostered toxicity in his ranks, but he definitely let it fester for so long that it took a whole arc for them to come together as a cohesive unit. And why? Because Asta was the only one well-adjusted enough to recognize his squad’s potential as a whole, versus Yami who wanted them to surpass their limits individually.

But through Asta, I truly believe Yami learned the meaning of family and individual agency in ways Julius could never teach him. I don’t see Yami as a father figure for the Black Bulls at all. In fact, if there’s anyone I think Yami resembles the most, it’s Rukia from Bleach, and that’s as a mentor, a friend, and an ideal to be achieved. Yami is someone who, despite fundamentally being a good person, is bound by his toxic loyalty to his king, wrapped in politics beyond his comprehension, and ultimately a tool who’s been sacrificed time and time again to keep up appearances. The Black Bulls are some of the strongest people in the realm, and led by the King’s ward himself, and yet no one respects the Black Bulls, and no one looks to or respects Yami as ward of the King. He’s treated like garbage despite the military clout. He’s a monster to be feared, when he could have been a beacon of hope for other immigrants, but in the greater narrative of Clover’s military, that just wasn’t possible, and so Yami’s dignity had to be sacrificed in order for him to coexist with the natives.

And now that he’s literally about to be sacrificed, I think it’s poignant that Yami smiled one last before his transformation into Yamihime. It’s his way of apologizing for his shortcomings as squad leader because, in a way, he knows it’s his fault Vanessa, Finral, Grey, Gauche, and Henry still aren’t emotionally well enough to duke it out in tough spots, and Asta can’t save them at the end of the day because Asta is but one human. Yami knows he fucked up, and that he should have tried harder, but he didn’t. Of course we know that it’s not Yami’s fault he got snatched up, but for Yami, it’s a culmination of all of his shortcomings, so he has to smile at the end, because he needs the Black Bulls to understand that it aint their fault. AKA, if we follow through with the Bleach parallel, then the Black Bulls are mini-Ichigos, with Asta being Alpha Ichigo.

The power structure that birthed the Black Bulls can’t be allowed to continue, because how many others like Yami are serving the Crown while willfully ignoring the injustices happening to the civilians? How about the crimes against military personnel? How many more Zara Ideale’s are there? How many more Vanessa’s, and Finral’s, and Henry’s? More than enough, probably, but they’re stuck in this hateful cycle because they have a central figurehead willing to sacrifice them to keep the institution running. That’s why Julius has to die, not because Julius is inherently evil (he’s not), but the institution he serves, upholds, and strengthens is corrupt and fundamentally evil. It’s the same institution that carried out a genocide, and created the tragedy of Yamihime and those like him, those who were sacrificed one way or another to keep the Crown looking pretty.

So why the wall of text? Simple. I feel like Yami’s one of those characters whose physical appearance is a reflection of his deepest insecurities. Here’s a guy who’s three hundred pounds of pure muscle and bulging neck veins, but not only is he objectively ugly, he also has the social skills of a wet leaf. He doesn’t know how to navigate socially, can’t read the room, is crazy intelligent and observant, but too damn stupid to catch a cue. And it’s not his fault! He’s dumb! Lonely! He wants friends, but he’s bad at it! So what does he do? Overcompensate with his muscles and emotionally detach himself enough that his squad members can’t get too close to him, so then he becomes more of an ideal than a person. 

With his transformation into Yamihime, I think Yami is finally in a place where he’s finally humanized, not only to the Black Bulls, but to the audience as well. Now we know that despite three hundred pounds of muscles, anyone can be a victim. Despite being a physical representation of oozing masculinity, anyone can be harassed, hurt, and victimized by violent predators like Dante and Zenon. The transformation into Yamihime thus serves as the critical juncture where Yami is now a person rather than just Julius’ tool, the Black Bulls’ idealized leader, and Charlotte’s love interest. Yami is now a deeply flawed human being who has his own shortcomings and insecurities, recognizes these issues, and who has accepted his failure in order to emotionally relieve his squad of having to feel the guilt of losing him. I know I joke about the Yamihime a lot, but it really is a powerful tool when used properly, because Tabata didn’t fridge Yami, he made Yami the very human being Clover refused to believe he was.

And his rescue now is staked on his humanity, because Yami is a friend and a potential lover, and not just a monster, or a captain, or the dude who’s made of three hundred pounds of pure muscle. And with Yami’s transformation into Yamihime, it comes time for Julius to be removed from the narrative as a proponent of the old Yami and all that he stood for, because Yamihime can’t be the tool of the state after this. Yami can’t uphold the dirty institution after this because the institution has spent this whole time stripping away Yami’s humanity, so for Yami to return to Clover as Julius’ soldier does nothing to reflect the change that’s necessary for the story to further develop as a whole. 

See with Yami’s humanization came Julius’ breakdown as a figurehead. I now understand why Tabata had to deage him. If he’d killed him off during the elven invasion, then he would have died a martyr and thrown the country into a civil war with a Spade invasion on its heels. No - Julius needed to be deaged so that it would be much easier for both the audience and characters to consume his true death because it’s easier to woobify a thirteen year old babie than a forty year old man. Because despite how kind Julius is to Yami, he’s still a propagator of violence and a leading figure of a corrupt institution. For Yami’s sacrifice to even make a modicum of narrative sense, Julius must die. The civil war, which has been brewing since the first chapter, is practically imminent.

tl;dr: Yamihime is an excellent developmental point for Yami, Julius needs to die in order to start the Clover civil war, Jack the Ripper is Renji Abarai and will rescue and eventually go onto marry the Yamihime, and Henry’s bussy pops SEVERELY. No, I will not be taking questions.

[raven-moon33]

@dorkshadows @earl-of-221b @melonmass @antidotefortheawkward-art @videogamelover99 (I’m tagging a bunch of people in case Tumblr eats my post again.)

Hello everyone! Happy #jttwfestival2020! I’m so excited to be participating in this event, and am so thrilled at all the new content we’re already getting. Here’s my fill for the prompt Day 3: Role Switch! 

I will be cross-posting this on AO3 as well, so feel free to leave a kudos or comment there if you happen to swing by.

Basically, Golden Cicada/Sanzang is the super powerful protector of the group while the other four are severely weakened from their various positions before the journey started and can’t protect themselves all that well on the road.

Some notes on this AU thingum:

- Golden Cicada is asked by Guanyin to help with the journey. He agrees and takes the name Sanzang as his human alias and to hide his true identity from demons who might cause them trouble. (He’s referred to as both Sanzang and Golden Cicada in the story, so let me know if that gets to be too confusing.)

- He wears two golden bracelets that limit his powers so that he can stay on the mortal plane in a semi-human form for as long as the journey will take, although the strain of having his powers limited in such a way is sometimes quite tiring and even painful. (He’s still more than powerful enough to protect the group however, so don’t y’all worry).

- Wukong, Bajie, Wujing, and Bailong are all well aware of who their protector is, but they’re not aware of the whole bracelet/limited powers situation. (At least, as far as Sanzang knows).

Anyways, now that we’re done with all that, on with the prompt fill! I hope you all enjoy! :)

Sanzang was deeply regretting his decision to accompany the pilgrims on their journey. Although the four other members of their group were each powerful in their own ways (especially the monkey, good heavens) they still needed him to guard their journey onwards. 

In order for the four celestials-turned-demons to redeem themselves and potentially achieve enlightenment, it was vital they had a guardian overseeing their journey, ensuring they remained on the righteous path, and protecting them from the many dangers their road took them towards.

Perhaps if they were taking this journey earlier- 

before Bailong was weakened by decades cut off from the sea- 

before Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing lost most of their celestial might from the years of being slowly corrupted from their own demonic behavior and the consumption of human flesh- 

before Sun Wukong was trapped under a mountain for five hundred years, once one of the most powerful creatures in existence, withering like a lotus flower locked away from the sun until he became a mere echo of his former self- 

perhaps then they would not have needed a protector from the hordes of demons and mortals who sought to end their journey before they could complete it for one reason or another. 

But they were not. This was now, and the things of the past could not be changed, only dealt with. So they continued on, however reluctant they might’ve been to do so.

Although the presence of a guardian for the pilgrims was clearly necessary, it most certainly didn’t need to be Golden Cicada himself. The only reason he volunteered to be the guardian of the scripture pilgrims at all was because Bodhisattva Guanyin herself asked it of him, and he never could find it in himself to say no to her. So he took the name Sanzang for his temporary human form and released Wukong from the mountain, beginning their journey west.

So now he was here, less than a year on the road with four demons who clearly didn’t want to be on this journey at all, trying desperately to prevent Wukong from killing. Again.

“Wukong! Stop!” He raised his hand to intercept the golden cudgel, only just stopping it from caving in the cowering bandit’s head. If Wukong was at his full power, the cudgel likely would’ve destroyed Sanzang’s hand (if not more) for the trouble, but as it was the hit left not much more than a stinging sensation reverberating up his arm, easily ignored. 

Wukong’s eyes blazed with frustration (whether from Sanzang’s interference or from his own inability to power through that interference as he once might have, Sanzang couldn’t be sure) but his mouth was still tilted in an easy grin and his posture remained casual.

“What is it, little bug? I was just going to give him a tap, a tap! I swear!”

Sanzang couldn’t quite hold back his scoff. “You and I both well know that a ‘tap’ from you is enough to kill an entire army, let alone a single man. I thought you agreed that you wouldn’t kill anymore humans, especially not while on this journey?” 

“If they can’t handle someone fighting back, then these bandits have no business trying to steal from people on the road in the first place.” Wukong’s grin became a little more feral when his eyes shifted to the bandit still cowering behind Sanzang. “Or is it alright that they’ve been going after traveling families and elderly folk?” His voice deepened a little into the demonic tone he only got when he was truly angry. “Children?”

“Of course it’s not alright.” Sanzang said with a soft sigh, his grip on the golden cudgel tightening a little to get Wukong’s eyes back on him. “And you know that’s not what I’m saying.” The silence between them grew into a large, tense thing, Wukong’s eyes blazing with the fire of his fury, singing with the memory of his days of havoc, and for a moment Sanzang wondered if they were going to fight once again, like they hadn’t since the very early days. 

Back then, Wukong was still so wound tight with frustration at the situation- being freed from the mountain only to be trapped on a journey he wanted no part of, Sanzang having to rescue him from demons so lesser Wukong once probably wouldn’t have even noticed them amongst his horde of monkeys and demons, not even being able to fly on his cloud to make the journey easier or shorter at all, weakened as he was by the weight of Five Finger Mountain- that he’d more often than not lash out at Sanzang over everything, physically and verbally slashing at him with every method available until he either tired himself out, they became distracted by something else, or they managed to reach an uneasy compromise built up of tense silence and avoided glances.

It got better with the addition of the others to their group, levying the tension and anger somewhat with the presence of others who likely better understood and who could commiserate with Wukong’s frustration, but still sometimes there would be an aborted swing of his staff, a grinding of the teeth as he seemed to resist the temptation to bite at Sanzang’s outstretched hand. 

But it was getting better, slow as the progress might be. Recently, Wukong even let Sanzang bandage some of his wounds after a particularly rough encounter with a mountain demon, the first time he’d accepted such help from anyone in the year they’d been traveling together. 

Sanzang was surprised by how deeply he hoped they wouldn’t slide back into those early days. 

It was not only because the constant war of wills had been exhausting, but because he genuinely hoped they could become something approaching friends before the end of their journey together. Sanzang had already become fond of the four demons he watched over, troublesome as they could be at times, but the other three took their cues from the Monkey King. So long as Wukong and Sanzang remained at odds, the others kept their distance from him, figuratively if not literally. (They did share a campfire more often than not, after all.) 

And besides that, physical altercations with Wukong were always draining, more than nearly anything else on their journey. 

He wasn’t sure if it was because Wukong was still just that powerful (weakened as he might be, it would still be suicide for most to challenge him) or if it was because Sanzang refused to use more than defensive tactics against him when they did fight (regardless of their personal issues, Wukong was still his charge, and he would never knowingly or willingly bring or allow harm to any under his protection), but whatever it was, fights with Wukong could leave him weakened enough to warrant a brief visit to Bodhisattva Guanyin to regain his strength, and he hated leaving the group even for handfuls of minutes, talented as they were at getting themselves into trouble even when he was there.

But luckily, Wukong didn’t seem to want a fight either. With a brief glance at the golden bands wrapped firmly around Sanzang’s wrists, the anger seemed to leech out of the monkey completely. (Not for the first time, Sanzang wondered if Wukong knew more about the bracelets than he was letting on, but now wasn’t the time to question him about it.) 

Wukong rolled his eyes and took a step back, tugging his staff out of Sanzang’s grasp. He twirled it until the golden cudgel rested across his shoulders, both arms hanging off it casually.

“Right right, ‘doing wrong unto those who have wronged will not undo their wrongs, only add to your own’, and all that. You need to get some new sayings, little bug, if even those of us who aren’t listening have them memorized.” He walked off before Sanzang could retort, disappearing through the trees and returning to the road the bandits attacked them on. Sighing, out of frustration or relief or maybe even both, Sanzang turned back to the bandit still frozen to the ground behind him. As soon as he saw Sanzang’s eyes on him, the bandit hurried into a kowtow, bowing over and over again as he muttered a shaky litany of ‘sorry’, over and over again, interspersed occasionally with ‘thank you’ and ‘please spare me’.

Abruptly feeling very tired, Sanzang knelt down in front of the bandit, placing a gentle hand on the back of his head as he bent down to stop the frantic movements. The bandit froze and fell quiet instantly, face nearly pressed against the dirt despite the feather-light touch Sanzang had on him. 

Sometimes, when he was feeling a little too tired or stressed or frustrated to completely hide the parts of himself the bands couldn’t quite suppress (or when he simply chose to stop hiding himself), everything around him could feel the heavy weight of his presence in the air. The insects in the trees would go silent, the plants in the forest would still their slow growth, and all mortal creatures would stop and tremble and hide in a desperate bid to avoid being seen by whatever now crouched among them, the entire world holding its breath as if waiting for the strike of lightning or the crash of an avalanche to swallow it whole. But, luckily for the bandit bowing beneath him, Golden Cicada was not cruel. 

“You have lived a hard life, Chenglei,” the bandit flinched when Golden Cicada used his name, but otherwise didn’t move or make a sound, “but you know in your heart that it does not justify your actions now.” Golden Cicada gentled his tone, feeling the loss and grief twisting the man’s heart, feeling the beginnings of a demon’s bitterness rooted there in the ashes of love and gentleness. 

(Loss wrought such devastation on a soul, and there was so much of it in the world; was there truly any wonder as to why so many demons wandered the world?) 

“You have lost much, but you know those you’ve lost would be ashamed to see what you have become without them. Do you truly seek to dishonor their memory?”

“No.” The man sobbed out, shaking as his tears stained the dirt beneath them.

“Then go,” Golden Cicada said, standing up and stepping back, “and do better. Live the way they would’ve wanted you to.” The bandit didn’t waste another moment, scrambling up from the dirt and escaping into the forest, running as far and as fast from the road (and from Golden Cicada) as he could. With a small wave of his fingers, a cicada sprung from a nearby leaf and buzzed hurriedly after the man. Golden Cicada had given the bandit a chance, a choice, and it was up to him what he did with it.

But whether he chose to turn from the dark path he walked or continued along it despite Golden Cicada’s interference, he would be sure to face the appropriate consequences; Golden Cicada’s messenger would make sure of that.

The bandit now long gone, Golden Cicada sat down in the shade of a large oak tree, relaxing into the familiar lotus position. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and he drew himself back into himself. The heavy presence of the air eased away until it was locked completely behind golden bands and a human facade once more. 

After a brief moment of silence in the newly lightened forest air, the insects began to cautiously chirp and chitter once again, birds hopping nervously onto new branches and singing soft tunes to one another, the trees groaning as they carefully continued their slow growth. 

Sanzang released his breath in a long sigh, eyeing the cuffs around his wrists. They were mostly unremarkable looking, plain and nondescript even with their golden appearance, but that rarely meant much when it came to celestial tools.  

They were given to him by Bodhisattva Guanyin back when he first agreed to help with the journey, and if it weren’t for the bracelets he wouldn’t be able to accompany the pilgrims at all, especially not for as long as the journey was likely to take. He recognized the necessity of wearing them, yet still he couldn’t help but loathe them at times. They locked away the majority of his powers, the majority of himself, shrinking him into something small and muted enough to exist on the mortal plane in a form he could pass off as human when he needed to, while still giving him enough power to help the pilgrims when they needed him.

The bracelets tethered him to the world in a way he hadn’t been bound for almost as long as he could remember, and although he could technically take them off whenever he desired, they still felt like chains trapping him, keeping him away from the sky and the freedom he’d enjoyed for an eternity (yet still for not long enough). 

The heaviness of his own body startled him at times, his bones filled with mortar and his blood as viscous as honey, and he thought often about how he could understand at least some of Wukong’s frustrations. To be a creature of the sky suddenly bound to the unforgiving grip of the earth was a unique kind of torment not easily likened to any other.

He could take off the bands whenever he wanted, free himself and stop feeling like he was too big for his own skin, form itching with the need to be drifting amongst the stars and being the stars and forming the stars and dying with the stars all at once, but he also couldn’t take them off. 

As Bodhisattva Guanyin warned him the single time he removed them, (back when a surprisingly powerful demon had his charges captured and was going to kill them, actually going to kill them, and Sanzang in his neutered form might not have been able to save them in time but Golden Cicada in his full glory most certainly could) the bracelets could only be removed and replaced a limited number of times. 

Rebinding his power weakened the bracelets significantly, powerful as they were otherwise, and eventually his own form would be too much for the bracelets to contain. If the bracelets broke before the journey was over, there was no telling what would become of the pilgrims left without the guardian and guide they needed, and he was determined to see this journey through to the end for them. 

(Come to think of it, Wukong hadn’t picked a fight with him since the time he briefly took them off. Wukong hadn’t been there when they were put back on as far as Sanzang knew, couldn’t have seen how excruciating it had been to lock himself away again after that brief taste of full freedom, but again he wondered if Wukong had managed to glean some understanding of what they were during that incident. Sanzang would have to question him about it soon, for his own peace of mind if nothing else. Something about the thought of any of his charges knowing, but especially Wukong, made something unpleasant shiver under his skin. He hoped none of them would ever know.)

It had only been a year, but already his investment in the pilgrims’ fates had gone from being for Bodhisattva Guanyin’s sake only to being entirely about his hope to see them succeed. 

He had become so fond of them even in such a short time, and although he missed his old life amongst the celestials without these bracelets leashing the very essence of him, he found he dearly wished for his charges to succeed and achieve enlightenment themselves far more, even if they themselves didn’t seem to care much about it, judging by how often they complained and conspired against him when they thought he couldn’t hear. (The fact that none of them ever made a serious attempt to abandon the journey was often the only kernel of hope he had as the nights grew longer and the road stretched ever on.)

All these swirling thoughts of his were interrupted by something soft being stroked across his face. 

Although he couldn’t see what caused it, he’d spent enough time around Bodhisattva Guanyin to recognize the feeling of a willow branch on his skin. She remained invisible, and although he could see her if he summoned his power once more (straining the magic of the bracelets binding him) he knew she would’ve shown herself if she wanted to be seen. 

He recognized her visit for what it was (a gentle reprimand), so he closed his eyes and folded his body into the lotus position once again. The minutes passed peacefully between them, her silent presence as comforting as it always was, warm and gentle as spring rain, and they needed no words between them. 

He breathed in, felt the knot of anger and anxiety and frustration and panic coiling in his chest, building from the time he’d last given himself to properly meditate, and he breathed it out. 

With each breath he felt himself relaxing more and more, the tight clutch of fear easing until it disappeared entirely. Soon he was empty, mind calm and quiet like it hadn’t been for a good many nights, and he felt as much like himself as he could, bound to the earth as he was. 

There was one more feather-light touch to his head (chastising, yet fond) and he could almost hear her saying you must take better care of yourself Golden Cicada; if you yourself are not at peace, then how can you help them find their own? before her presence faded and was gone completely. When he opened his eyes, all that remained as proof of her being there was a small lotus leaf filled with crystal clear water. 

Smiling at this generous gift, he picked up the leaf and took a small sip. He drank barely enough to be able to taste it, yet still the subsequent warmth and strength suffusing his body was immediate. (He didn’t realize how weak and tired he’d been feeling recently, not until energy lit him up once more). 

With care, he expertly twisted the edges of the leaf together until it closed up, protecting the water inside so he could safely store it in one of the hidden pockets in his robe. He would use it in their stew that night, as he knew they would be facing danger again soon and wanted his charges to have as much strength as they could before that happened. With one last look at his surroundings, Sanzang stood up, brushed himself off, and moved to return to the road where his charges were (hopefully) waiting for him.

When he returned to the site of the bandit attack, what he saw both surprised and warmed him. 

The bandits hadn’t really been aiming for their group when they attacked, as their sights were focused more on the wagon of a traveling family who’d been on the same road. Although the combined efforts of Bajie, Wujing, and Bailong were enough to scare away the rest of the bandits while Sanzang prevented Wukong from killing the man he’d chased into the forest, it appeared the family and the wagon hadn’t managed to escape entirely unscathed. 

The cart had somehow been flipped onto its side, flinging all of its contents into the grass beside the road, and while the horse pulling the wagon didn’t seem to be harmed, it had gotten loose and was now running down the road at a panicked gallop. The eldest of the group (likely the father of one of the parents), appeared to have broken his leg after falling from the wagon, and the two young children, a boy and a girl surely not more than five years old, were crying from their place stuck in a tree, where they’d gone to hide while the bandits fought the pilgrims.

But it was not all this that made Sanzang suddenly feel so warm and fond. 

It was the sight of Wujing carefully lifting and righting the cart onto the road as Bajie helped the father of the group pick up the family’s scattered supplies. 

It was Bailong quickly shifting into the horse form he generally seemed to prefer on the road to chase after the frightened mare, calming it down and leading it back to the family before it got too far to catch. 

It was Wukong soothing the scared children, carefully lifting them out of the tree and returning them to the ground, letting them cling to him until their shaking stopped and patiently calming them down so their mother could tend to their injured grandfather. 

A small smile painting his features, pride in his charges glowing brightly in his chest, Sanzang quickly strode over to help the mother set the elderly man’s leg.

Perhaps there’s hope for this journey after all. He thought to himself. 

Somehow, somewhere, he felt like Bodhisattva Guanyin was laughing.

(A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think and once again, happy #jttwfestival2020!)

[emachinescat]

Febuwhump day 25 / alt. 8 - allergies

Once again, I tried to write a story today, and because I’m sick with Covid, didn’t have the energy to finish the whole thing.  I do plan on finishing this up and posting the full thing once I’m recovered enough to do so.  Until then, I want to post what I have so that I can still claim victory for Febuwhump! :)  Please be aware that I wrote this while having a low-grade fever and that it’s not been edited, so if it is clunky or has issues, that’s why.  I’ll fine-tune everything when I finish writing it.  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the rough product I have for you so far!  TW: PTSD

Mac + Allergies + The Goodest Boy

Angus MacGyver hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in over four weeks.  He’d tell you otherwise if you asked, of course, but the evidence was overwhelming.  Every day, Mac's face grew paler, the darkness under his eyes deepened, and the look in his eyes became more distant.  Jack had seen this happen to many soldiers – hell, it had happened to him.  This tour hadn’t been as bad as some of the previous ones Jack had experienced, but in the past … 

Well, suffice it to say that Jack Dalton knew a thing or two about PTSD.

And as ugly of a look as it had been on him, as it was on anyone else, nothing had prepared him for how much it would hurt to see it on his little burger buddy.  Shoot, when Jack had signed up for another tour to keep an eye on the kid, it was to keep him safe in the Sandbox, but now that he was home, Jack felt like Mac was in just as much danger of losing himself here as he had been losing his life in Afghanistan.  That was part of the reason Jack had found a place in L.A. instead of going straight back home to Texas.  That, and a potential job for the two of them he was investigating at the DXS, but ultimately, it wouldn’t have mattered where the jobs were.  Jack had already decided to locate himself wherever Mac was.

Jack had tried to help the best that he could.  He’d been on call all hours of the night, had had Mac over at his place when the nightmares got too bad, had crashed at Mac’s place whenever his roommate was out of town and Mac couldn’t be alone.  He’d tried to get Mac to talk many times, but one thing he’d learned about the kid was that although he could go on and on for hours about geek squad science stuff, he was a master at talking a lot without actually saying anything important.  And he didn’t talk about himself at all.

Jack knew there was a lot to unpack.  Hell, Mac’s C.O. had been killed in front of him.  The kid had screamed awake from many a nightmare about that one.  He’d nearly been killed multiple times, been under fire, disarmed over a hundred IEDs in a single day, had been through hell right alongside Jack in the Sandbox, and Jack sometimes had to remind himself that the kid was still, well, a kid.  Fresh out of school, hadn’t even finished college before joining the army.  He’d seen more violence and bloodshed than most people twice his age.  His skill set put him right there in the middle of the death and danger, a twenty-year-old bomb nerd with a glowing neon target on his back.  

And now he was back home, and everything was different.  Jack knew this because he had been here too, once, not because Mac talked about it.  He understood exactly what his friend was going through – he was home, but home wasn’t the same.  He smiled when he spoke to his friends, his roommate, even Jack, sometimes, but the smile was hollow and so were his eyes.  The nightmares followed him wherever he went and he couldn’t adjust, and he kept all the turmoil to himself, not wanting to be a bother, not thinking he deserved sympathy or whatever help his friends wanted to give him.

Finally, Jack reached the point where he had no idea what to do.  What had ultimately pulled him out of his own personal hell after the worst tour of his career had been a very good friend, but no one, not Jack, not Bozer, not Mac’s childhood friend Penny, seemed able to penetrate the layers of protection that Mac had built up around himself.

Maybe, he thought, as he stared pensively at the computer screen, Mac needed a friend who didn’t try to get him to talk at all, one who would just be there for him and listen and drool all over his hand and tak dumps in his backyard.  Maybe, Jack ventured, the light bulb going off in his brain at the ad for the Battle Buddy Foundation and their service dogs for vets, Mac needed a dog.

.

Bozer was out of town at some movie convention the next weekend, so Jack put his plan into motion.  He hadn’t had a chance to run it by Mac’s oldest friend yet, but he knew that if a dog would help Mac, then Bozer wouldn’t mind a new addition to the household.  Bozer would just be in for a surprise when he got home.

It had taken a lot of trips to animal shelters to find just the right fit for his partner, but Jack had been determined.  He’d tried the Battle Buddy Foundation, but since he wasn’t looking for a service dog for himself, that had been a no-go.  Plus, there were just so many hoops to jump through and qualifications to meet and interviews to be had, and Mac needed help now.  So he had scoured shelters and rescues, looking for a dog of just the right size and temperament for his buddy.  The next two weeks were going to be a trial basis, and if Mac and the pup clicked, Jack would seal the deal.  If not, then there was already another interested party lined up for the adoption.

The dog’s name was Cheese, and he was a four-year-old golden retriever mix who loved cuddles, thrived on attention and exercise, and even looked a little like Mac with his long, flowing blonde locks.  Also, Jack couldn’t get past how perfectly the names synced up – how could he pass up the possibility of Mac and Cheese?

.

As Jack had predicted, Mac fell in love with Cheese the moment he laid eyes on him.

“Jack!” Mac grinned, falling to one knee right in the middle of the sidewalk.  “Who’s this?”  Jack let Cheese wag his little tail happily over to Mac and watched with rising excitement as the pooch immediately began nuzzling and licking a laughing Mac all over.  He watched as Mac scratched Cheese’s furry head, found the sweet spot behind the ears, and buried his hands in the fur around the dog’s neck.  

“This,” Jack said, “is your new best friend.”

Mac looked up from having his face licked off and narrowed his eyes.  “What did you do to Bozer?”

Jack tried to act like he wasn’t offended that Bozer had been Mac’s go-to on the “best friend” front.  “Nothing.”

“Then are you leaving me?”  Despite the joke, a bit of uncertainty had wormed its way into Mac’s voice, and Jack could have kicked himself.

“No, man, I don’t mean it like that!  Cheese ain’t replacing anybody, he’s just the newest member of the family!”

A hesitant half-smile pulled at Mac’s lips.  “You got me a dog?”  He cocked his head.  Cheese mimicked him, ears flopping as his head tilted adorably to one side.  “I’m sorry – did you say his name is Cheese?”

Jack nodded proudly.  

Mac kept scratching Cheese behind the ears, but he stared at Jack suspiciously.  “Did you name him that?”

Jack’s nod turned into a vigorous shake.  “No, that’s what he was called at the shelter, man.  It helped me pick him out for ya.  It was like fate.”

“Fate?”  Mac looked like he really didn’t want to know.

“Mac and Cheese, hoss.”

“No,” Mac said shortly.  “Just… no.”

.

Mac ended up keeping the name.

It wasn’t that he liked the lame pun or anything, but Cheese had apparently been called Cheese for a long time and refused to respond to anything else.  Mac wanted to call him Fibonacci, but one look into those big brown eyes that lit up when Mac said Cheese, and one glimpse of the way his tail flopped around excitedly at the sound of his name, made Mac change his mind.  Cheese obviously liked being Cheese, and who was Mac to try to change him?  

“Besides,” Jack pointed out no less than five times on the day he introduced them, “Mac and Cheese belong together, man.  Cheese without Mac is pretty good, I’ll admit, but Mac without Cheese is just a noodle.”  He shook his head sadly, and Mac couldn’t help but grin.  “Just a limp noodle.”

.

Cheese slept in the bed with Mac that night, curled up close beside him, warm and big and furry.  Mac didn’t have nightmares, mostly because he didn’t sleep.  He couldn’t sleep.  He could feel a cold coming on, and the persistent scratch in his throat kept him firmly tethered in that awful middle ground between waking and sleeping, where sleep is the most appealing thing you can imagine, but it is also the most unattainable.  It would have been a thoroughly miserable night, except Cheese was wonderful company, and his soft snores, twitchy feet, and dog dreams were a balm to Mac’s sleepless jitters.

Despite how much Mac loved Cheese already, he spent a large portion of the night thinking of reasons why it wasn’t practical for him to have a dog.  Bozer didn’t know about Cheese, for one.  Jack claimed that everything was fine, that Boze would be completely on board once he got home.  But Mac didn’t just want to spring a pet on his roommate.  Having a dog was a huge responsibility, one that wouldn’t affect just Mac, but anyone he lived with as well.  Of course, there was the fact that Mac himself wasn’t prepared to take care of a dog at all, either, even if Jack had taken it upon himself to buy half of Pet Smart on his way back from the shelter.  Mac felt like he could barely take care of himself half the time; what made him think that he could keep another creature alive and healthy?  

Peña had died on his watch, after all.  How long until his dog got hurt because of him?  

It was at that thought that Mac realized he was spiraling into very dangerous thought patterns, and he only managed to drag himself away from them by distracting himself with the snuffling noises Cheese made while he slept and by feeling the soft warmth of his fur.

Maybe Jack was right – maybe a dog would do Mac some good.

Of course, there was the one problem that Mac found himself avoiding more earnestly the more attached he found himself growing to Cheese.  It was perhaps the most glaring reason for not having a dog, but it was also he one Mac avoided acknowledging at all costs, and yet he knew full well that he was not getting a cold as he had told himself when the symptoms first started.  He recognized that tell-tale itch at the back of the throat and the heaviness of the head all too well, though he’d held out hope he’d grow out of it someday.  The truth was in the sneezes, though, which started after midnight and only got more numerous and violent as the night progressed.

No, there had been a reason that Archimedes had been an outside dog.  There was a reason Mac felt like he had a head cold coming on.  And there was a reason that he should have told Jack no the second his friend had made it clear that Cheese was to be his dog.

Angus MacGyver was allergic to dogs.

[queerofthedagger]

hello! i noticed you have prompts open, and i love your writing! no pressure ofc but do you think you could write james and sirius rescuing regulus? maybe getting him out of grimmauld, or maybe when they're all older, getting him away from the death eaters?? james and sirius CAN be in a relationship, or they could be just uselessly giving each other heart eyes until reggie does something to facilitate their boyfriendhood?? i don't know, the ball is in your court, now :')

Hey nonnie, thank you so much for the prompt! ❤️ It really took me a while, but on the bright side, it also got quite long (most of it is under the cut.) I hope it’s more or less what you were aiming for - it got angst-y, but there’s a happy ending.

The first part of this was also written for a writing exercise on discord, “Have your character write a letter to their younger self.” All of the fic was heavily inspired by this video, and by the song used in it, which also provided me with the title.

or maybe you were the ocean (when I was just a stone)

Teen and Up || Graphic Depictions of Violence || 5,7k words || AO3

Pairings: Sirius Black/James Potter; Sirius Black & Regulus Black

Tags: Regulus Black Lives; Fix It; Established Relationship; Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief. ---  Kreacher does not like Master Regulus' plan. Kreacher has his orders about them, but they don't include a piece of parchment, meant to join Regulus the following day. Kreacher thinks there's only one person able to help, loath as he is to admit it.

Kreacher's right.

*

Dear “younger self,”

I would never write this if I wasn’t going to die tomorrow, but there is a strange urge to acknowledge everything in a place outside my own head, and this seems the easiest way. At least it is a dying wish easily fulfilled.

That is a horrible way to start a letter. I suppose it is of no consequence though, seeing that these words will disappear with me.

If I could give you only one piece of advice, it would be this; listen to Sirius. Listen to Sirius and go with him when he leaves – do anything, anything at all to get away from this house that has never been a home to either of you.

I know what you’re thinking; he abandoned you first. He is the one who replaced you. He made everything so much harder on himself with his stubbornness, his constant need to be contrary; by always stepping into the line of mother’s fury.

But he is also right, about so many things.

Most importantly though, he is right about this – no matter what you do, it will never be enough to make them proud. Not getting sorted into Slytherin, not upholding traditions and echoing their beliefs and, most of all, not joining the Dark Lord. Nothing will ever be enough.

You will only burn yourself up by trying; you will do everything that is expected of you and more, and it won’t be enough. You will do unspeakable things that leave you shaking for days on end, will wake you up every night with screams lodged behind your teeth and fear buried in your bones.

Will leave you aged decades within a year, and still mother will only stare at you blankly and ask where Sirius is.

You won’t know either, but you’ll wish you did. You will wish that you could find him, warn him, beg him for help. But not only will you have aged decades, you will have drifted away so far that there’s no way to go back anymore.

Not a point in trying either.

You may think that I’m dramatizing in typical Black manner, but to be honest, it’s still so much worse than it sounds.

Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and nobody will know. Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and all I’ll be remembered as is a spineless coward who has been wrong all along.

At least I won’t have to deal with Sirius’ ‘I told you so.’

I’d take a hundred of those if only to see that grin one more time.

There always is a choice, and there always are consequences. Sometimes, they just come for you as an army of Inferi and the Drink of Despair.

-          Regulus

* * *

Regulus doesn't know that Kreacher slips the letter out of his pocket later that night; doesn’t know that his always loyal elf is still searching for his least favourite family member when Regulus leaves for the last time, in the early hours of dawn.

Anything, anything at all to save Master Regulus.

* * *

James hears the crashes and the shouting already on the staircase, Sirius’ voice unmistakable. He breaks into a run, taking the steps two, three at a time, wand drawn and ready to fight whoever has found them.

An old, wrinkled house-elf is not what he expects to find sneering up at Sirius, and it effectively stops him in his tracks. Sirius doesn’t seem to notice him though, glaring down at the creature with so much hatred written over his face that James doesn’t dare let his guard down just yet.

“I’m not going to promise you anything without knowing what you want from me,” Sirius just spits, contempt dripping from his every word. His hands are shaking at his sides though, muscle in his jaw jumping, and James knows that this isn’t a usual threat.

Knows that there’s something personal in this because Sirius’ anger only ever burns bright and hot like this when he’s terrified; when there’s something on the line beyond his own life.

Sirius only ever loses control when it comes to his loved ones, and just like that, James knows whose elf this is; knows with startling certainty spreading through his lungs that this has the potential to break Sirius, and inevitably himself.

Neither of them has noticed him yet, or at least not considered him noteworthy enough to avert their glares from each other, and James takes a second to take in the details.

The living room looks wrecked, books and papers littering the floor and the coffee table lying overturned. Sirius has a cut on his cheek, slowly oozing blood while the elf appears to be unharmed. It’s clenching a crumpled piece of parchment in one gnarled fist though, and underneath the disdain spilling from its eyes, James can make out a deep wariness.

“Sirius,” he says, taking a few steps into the room without lowering his wand. “I don’t think he’d be here if it wasn’t important.”

Because there’s only one reason James can come up with for the elf of the Blacks to appear in their home; only one reason, and he knows that Sirius knows it too, sees it in the thin line of his lips and the tightness of his shoulders.

“It could still be a trick,” Sirius presses out, not taking his eyes off the elf, and there’s a plea ringing in his words, desperation for it to not be what they both fear it is.

“Kreacher would not expose himself to the presence of filthy blood-traitors for – “

“Shut up!” Sirius snaps, eyes flashing, and James quickly wraps his fingers around his wrist. Looks at him and silently says, not now, not yet, it’s not worth it.

“What are the terms?” he asks out loud, glancing at the elf whose face twists as if contemplating if James is even worth answering to.

He seems to decide that it’ll have higher chances than with Sirius, though he turns his nose up when he speaks. “Kreacher has a message that was not intended to reach the – you. Kreacher will deliver it still, if the blood-traitor son promises to help.”

And yeah, that would be a problem, James thinks. Looks at Sirius and sees the conflict there, twitching fingers and working jaw, and thinks to hell with it.

“You were not ordered to not deliver it either, then?” he asks, because he might be reckless, but he’s not stupid; might be willing to risk everything and anything for Sirius every second of the day, but never once Sirius himself.

The elf’s sneer slips by a fraction. “Kreacher received no orders at all about the letter. Kreacher does want to add that time is an issue. He will be needing help soon.”

Sirius still doesn’t look convinced, but James knows what will happen if they refuse; knows that Sirius will run himself in circles, will drive himself mad with not knowing. Knows that it might be the deciding push to finally plunge them off the precipice this war has them balancing on.

Thinks that if it’s as bad as he thinks it is, refusing might end up being worse than whatever potential trap they’re about to walk into.

His grip on Sirius’ wrist tightens, but he doesn’t glance away from the elf when he says, “We accept. Give us the letter, and we’ll help.”

Sirius makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat but he’s also already gripping for the parchment, nearly tearing it in his haste.

James is barely able to take in the words with the way Sirius is shaking beside him, and still, all he can think is that it’s so, so much worse than he could’ve ever anticipated.

“Where,” Sirius finally chokes out, his face pale and haunted, and he’s swaying on his feet, knuckles white around his wand. “Where,” he repeats, voice breaking over the shout.

James does the only thing he can do; takes Sirius’ face between his hands and digs his fingers into his skin. Presses their foreheads together and says, “No, not like this.” Holds on even as Sirius struggles, eyes wild and caught so firmly between anger and desperation that it makes James’ heart ache. “You’ll kill us both like this,” he says, shaking him for good measure. Says, “Breathe,” again and again until Sirius finally starts listening, or at least accepting that it’s the only way James will let him out of this flat anytime soon.

“Better,” he finally allows, but he only lets his hand drop to Sirius’ wrist once more as he turns back to the elf.

There’s disdain again, but also poorly hidden relief, and James could honestly not care less about what a house-elf thinks of them right now.

“When is he planning to go?” Sirius asks, and his voice is still strained, full of fear buried underneath fury, but at least he’s thinking again.

Of course, it all flies out of the window when Kreacher answers, “He left an hour ago. Kreacher can take you to the entrance of the cave but not further.”

James doesn’t protest when Sirius snarls, “Take us,” doesn’t think that Kreacher would be willing to give them more information even if he’d get Sirius to listen for another second.

The words Inferi and Drink of Despair are still echoing through his head, and they’re mixing with the guilt that is already radiating off of Sirius in waves, mixing with it’s my fault, and I should’ve tried harder, and if he dies, it’s because of me, that he knows are running rampage in Sirius’ own head.

As they’re pulled into the Apparation, James silently lists defences against Inferi and poison, hoping that they’re the only things he will have to fight tonight.

The sounds hit him first; desperate, guttural sobs that seem to echo, magnified and thrown around between what turn out to be the smooth, dark walls of a large cave. There are pleas in between, broken off words and swallowed fractures, though through the seconds it takes them to orientate themselves, two words are repeated over and over.

Sirius, please.

The words twist themselves underneath James’ ribs, race down his spine, and still he is glad for them. They freeze Sirius in place just long enough for James to reach out and hold him back from storming straight into the water stretching out between them and the small island Regulus seems to be kneeling on.

A green glow coming from a basin spends just enough eerie light to illuminate Regulus’ trembling figure, curled in on himself and pleading, crying, screaming himself hoarse.

It’s only Kreacher’s voice that prevents James from having to outright fight Sirius to keep him where he is.

“There’s a boat,” he says. “It will only take one of you.”

“Can’t you take us?” James asks before Sirius can, one arm still tightly wrapped around his chest as his own stomach sinks, panic clawing its way slowly up his throat.

Kreacher’s jaw sets and he shakes his head. “The wards would be tripped, and Master Regulus forbade me from doing anything to alert him.”

There’s no way, no way in hell that James will let Sirius go alone, or leave him behind, and he spares a thought to curse whoever set up this nightmare of a setting. He has some suspicions but no time to really bother with them, Sirius already struggling again, glaring and spitting and snarling at James as if he’s seriously contemplating to hex him within the next few seconds.

He needs an answer, a solution, anything, but there’s nothing, and then there’s movement from the small island, the sudden sound of waves drawing their attention.

It shouldn’t be loud enough, shouldn’t drown out Regulus’ cries and Sirius’ curses, but still they both stop moving, eyes forcibly dragged to witness Regulus bowing low over the edge of the lake.

Grey hands are breaking the surface of the water, followed by heads and bodies, so many of them that they appear to be moving as one. The green light reflects on the dead skin, catching on empty eyes and white teeth, and James has to clench his jaw against the bile rising in his throat.

“Take us,” Sirius says, and his voice is cold all of a sudden, tightly controlled fury pressed into two words as he stares at Kreacher.

“Kreacher cannot – “

“Take. Us,” Sirius repeats, drawing himself up. “I command you to take us, or I swear by all that I hold dear, my mother will look like a bloody joke when I’m done with you.”

Kreacher’s still hesitating, visibly struggling with himself in a way that would give James a pause in different circumstances, but they’re losing time they can’t afford.

Regulus’ screams have turned hoarse, barely audible over the other noises filling up the cavern now, and it’s impossible to spot him any longer in between the throng of Inferi.

“You want him to survive as well, don’t you?” James tries, and there’s terror ringing through his words.

Finally, Kreacher nods, and they don’t get another second to prepare themselves for the lurch of Apparation; to question just who they’re alerting by tripping the wards.

Sirius twists out of his grip the second they have solid ground under their feet again, wand slashing through the air in ferocious precision. Still, for every cutting curse that hits its target, three more seem to appear, and the whole bulk of them is already moving back into the murky water.

“Fire,” James snaps, unceremoniously digging his elbow into Sirius’ side when he doesn’t seem to hear him. “Fire, but not directly at them, come on.”

An incantation rolls off Sirius’ tongue that James has only ever read about and his blood runs cold. His own movement slows and stops as he watches white-hot flames burst forward, rushing over the surface of the lake surrounding them, forming indistinct shapes.

“Sirius,” he tries, grabbing his arm. “Sirius,” he shouts, shaking him, but to no avail. There are no Inferi left in the vicinity of the island. No other bodies either but for Kreacher cowering by the basin, and James knows, knows that Sirius has noticed too. That he’ll burn the whole cave down, no matter how little it will serve an actual purpose, and himself with it if James lets him.

The light of the flames is breaking on Sirius’ face, all hard lines and pain etched into every crease as his eyes seem to burn, grey blazing just as bright.

There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief.

It’s not a plan. It’s not even something he expects to work or to not go horribly wrong, but it’s the only thing he can think off beyond forcing Sirius to give up for his sake.

The Summoning Spell shouldn’t work on people, and the seconds after he casts tick by so very slowly. The heat keeps scorching his skin, licking at his hands and his face and supplying a painfully tangible warning of Sirius’ suffering.

Then there’s a ripple in the water close to them, a body hurling out of it and barrelling into James with a force that knocks him off his feet. Sharp stones are digging into his back, his head is thundering with the strength of the impact but he’s laughing, laughing and crying and only just making sure that it’s Regulus lying on top of him, unconscious but with breath brushing against James’ neck.

Somehow, he manages to climb back to his feet, pulling Regulus up as he goes. Manages to stumble through the thick smoke that’s curling through the air, through his lungs, threatening to choke them all before they can burn or drown.

A distant, hysterical corner of his mind that he tries to ignore as best as he can helpfully points out that it at least keeps out whoever created this cavern from hell, and he wants to laugh again.

Finally, he reaches Sirius, standing rigid at the very edge of the water with tears streaming down his face but wand still raised, staring straight into the flames. James wraps his free hand around his neck, pressing his nails into his skin and shaking him until Sirius finally turns his head to look at him.

It takes several seconds until the haze leaves Sirius’ eyes and they widen, realization bleeding into them, swiftly followed by guilt. James wants to feel relief, wants to reassure him that there’s nothing to be guilty about; wants to shove Regulus at him and shout, see, everything will be fine, you idiot. As if I’d ever let you down.

He’s not sure yet that he believes it himself though and does none of those things. Does only tighten his grip on both brothers and shouts for Kreacher, the words scraping against his raw throat, and he nearly slumps in relief when the elf appears next to them with wide, terrified eyes.

“Take us to our flat,” he orders, praying and begging silently that he will listen. The fire is breaking through the barrier Sirius must’ve kept up, heat already singing their clothes, and he thinks he can hear a shriek of rage even over the roaring of the flames.

The sight of Regulus must’ve convinced Kreacher because he doesn’t waste a second to grab the limp hand, and then the world is twisting, lurching, and the last thing James sees is white and red and yellow, and a person materializing out of black smoke in the spot they’re just leaving behind.

Regulus’ weight drags James down as soon as they land, and he pulls Sirius with him. The quiet and cold of their living room is like a punch, adrenaline snatched away with the sudden absence of heat.

For long moments, he’s unable to move, to do anything but breathe. Unable to comprehend that they made it out, all three of them still alive and here, maybe not unharmed but not on the bottom of a lake full of Inferi either.

“Is he - ?” Sirius breaks the silence, and when James turns his head to look at him, his eyes are clenched shut, hands still trembling where they press against the floor, and lips white with the force his teeth are biting into them.

“He’s breathing,” he answers quietly because he has no idea if Regulus is fine, will be fine again, and he can’t lie to Sirius, never could, not even about something like this.

Sirius gives a jerky nod, still not opening his eyes but reaching out a hand to wrap around James’ own so tightly that he can feel his bones shift. “I could’ve killed you. I could’ve killed you and you didn’t stop me.”

It’s not an accusation, not even a reprimand. It’s only horror, and guilt, and James wants to erase the previous hours from all of their minds. Wants to take all three of them far away from a family that pitches brothers against each other, from a war that’s eating away at all of them, and from whatever it is that led Regulus to the cave and his near self-sacrifice in the first place.

Wants to take them far away and forget about the terror that’s still woven tightly around his ribs, pressing into his lungs and choking up his throat with a grip so crushing, he’s not sure if it’ll ever leave again.

“As if I’d let you,” he finally chokes out, squeezing Sirius’ hand in return and pulling them both into a sitting position.

It falls flat and they both know it, but Sirius merely gives another nod and scrambles until he’s kneeling at Regulus’ side, hands shaking as they hover helplessly over his still body.

James wants to take them far away from here, or scream and rage until the memories don’t feel so achingly raw anymore, and does none of it. Instead, he pulls himself together with more effort than it’s ever taken him and knocks his head softly against Sirius’ in wordless reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, he starts pulling away Regulus’ torn robes. “Kreacher, could you get me the potions from the bathroom?” he asks when he finds deep gashes underneath the fabric, littering his arms and chest, bleeding into their faded blue carpet.

The elf disappears, the crack of his Apparition startling Sirius out of his shock. The following minutes pass in silence, both of them working on closing the wounds, dispelling the water from Regulus’ lungs, and checking for invisible injuries.

After Kreacher reappears with the potions, he watches them closely but otherwise stays silent and keeps his distance, hands wrung tight into the hem of the pillowcase he’s wearing.

“That’s it,” James finally says, sitting back on his haunches and rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion. “Some of it will scar, but he should wake up soon.”

At least he hopes so; neither of them is a Healer even if they’d inevitably picked up the basics since leaving Hogwarts. He doesn’t want to consider what would happen if he doesn’t.

Sirius doesn’t answer, merely sits back to lean against the back of the couch and carefully moving Regulus until his head is resting in Sirius’ lap.

For long moments, James only watches the slow movements of Sirius’ hand carding through Regulus’ hair, the way his eyes keep roaming over his body as if expecting new injuries to appear. Watches how two of his fingers stay pressed against Regulus’ pulse point at his throat, hand twitching every other second.

Eventually though, James forces himself back to his feet, legs trembling underneath him as he makes his way into the kitchen. His throat is parched, his eyes are still burning from the smoke, and he knows that Sirius must be in a similar state; knows that he won’t get up and take care of himself until Regulus opens his eyes because it’s what he’d do if it was James lying there.

It’s what James would do if the roles were reversed, and that’s a scenario he shoves away as best as he can whenever the thought so much as tries to form.

When he steps back into the room with two glasses of water and PepperUp Potion, Sirius is still in the same position, but he’s talking quietly, words barely audible. “Come on, lionheart, you have to wake up. I owe you several I told you so’s, remember?” he’s just saying, voice rough and still so, so heavy with regrets.

“Sir-us?”

James freezes where he’s just sitting down next to them, nearly forgetting to keep up the levitation spell, and watches with fear and relief warring in his chest as Regulus’ eyelids flutter, eyes slowly blinking open to reveal a grey several shades darker than Sirius’.

“You idiot,” is the first thing Sirius chokes out, his grip on Regulus’ shoulder visibly tightening, and in spite of everything, James smiles faintly. “You complete, utter idiot, how could you?”

Regulus’ eyes widen, his body going rigid while his hands curl into fists at his sides. “What – where – “

“You nearly died,” Sirius spits before James can even think about answering, and he winces at the note of anger creeping back into Sirius’ tone. “What were you thinking? If Kreacher hadn’t – “

“Kreacher came to you?” Regulus interrupts, surprisingly alert all of a sudden as he sits up, and James wonders if it’s only adrenaline that’s fuelling him. He twists so he can keep looking at them, pushing himself onto his knees, and his eyes flicker between them as fear and disbelief chase each other over his expression. “I – you – you got me out of the cave?”

Before Sirius can answer, James reaches out to squeeze his knee.

Sirius swallows, eyes closing briefly, but his voice is much calmer when he says, “Yes, though if it wasn’t for James, I doubt – we only arrived when you – when the Inferi attacked you.”

Regulus’ expression doesn’t change, confusion and wariness still shining in his eyes. “But how – I forbade Kreacher from telling anyone and anyway, why? Why would you – “

Care is what he doesn’t say, what he doesn’t have to say if the flinch from Sirius is anything to go by.

James watches out of the corner of his eye as Sirius’ jaw clenches and unclenches, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his legs, and he eventually draws his shoulders back.

“Because you’re my brother. And I – even though I never regretted leaving Grimmauld’s, I regretted leaving you behind. That we grew apart so badly and I – that you thought you couldn’t come to me with whatever insane thing you were attempting tonight. Because the thought of you dying – I couldn’t – I’d never let that happen,” Sirius finally says, his voice quiet but gaze boring into Regulus’.

Regulus stares with wide eyes, a frown etched between his brows as if he isn’t quite sure that any of this is real. “But you’re – I’m everything you hate,” he finally spits, face twisting into a snarl while his hands tremble at his sides. “I joined the Dark Lord! I did things so horrible, you wouldn’t – “ he chokes off, turning his head away.

James thinks it’s startling how similar the two of them are, after all, despite everything. He’s itching to make this easier for both of them, but all he can do is press his leg against Sirius’ and hope that it’ll be enough to get through this.

“And you realised what a shit-choice that was,” Sirius shoots back, and for the briefest of seconds, his lips twitch into a smile. “I told you so, by the way.”

Regulus’ head whips back around, and James wants to bury his face in his hands.

“The letter,” Regulus whispers, his whole posture slumping. “Of course. I should’ve – “

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll kill you myself,” Sirius growls, then shakes his head and huffs. “I just – are you really so keen to die that you wouldn’t even consider asking me for help?”

There’s desperation bleeding through his words now, and Regulus must’ve heard it too because his head snaps up, his hand twitching as if he wants to reach out.

“It’s not – no,” he presses out, running a hand over his face. “But I – not only didn’t I expect you to believe me, it’s also dangerous. More dangerous than this war already is, and you have a traitor in your precious Order and I couldn’t – he’ll hunt me down anyway.“

“You betrayed Voldemort,” James says before Sirius can, the final pieces clicking into place, and it reminds him of the flash of white skin materialising just as they’d left the cave behind.

Regulus flinches at the name and seems to hesitate. Eventually, he nods, resolve hardening his features. “He’s mad, completely, utterly mental. I just – I couldn’t do it anymore and when Kreacher – when I found out something important, something that could help bring him down, I – “ he pauses, biting his lips. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before looking back at Sirius. “I thought I could at least do one good thing. What does it matter if I die in a raid, in a cave, or because he decides to kill me?”

“Because I couldn’t bear to lose you!” Sirius snaps. “Because it was already bad enough to lose you once, and I won’t let Voldemort, or anyone else for that matter, lay a fucking hand on you, alright? And you’ll better get used to that, you complete idiot, because I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

There’s a beat of silence in which the words seem to ring through the room, and then a dry sob wrenches itself out of Regulus’ throat, his hand flying up to press against his mouth.

Sirius instantly moves forward, wrapping his arms around Regulus and burying his head in the crook of his neck, his own shoulders shaking. It takes only a second until Regulus’ arms come up, his hands clenching in the fabric of Sirius’ hoodie as if holding on for dear life.

James watches, something loosening in his chest, and when he looks at Kreacher for the first time since Regulus woke up, there’s barely any disdain left on his old face.

The two of them stay in their embrace for a long time, murmuring to each other so quietly that James can’t make out the words.

As much as he wants to give them their time, to leave them to make up for all those lost years, there’s still a memory at the forefront of his mind that is impossible to ignore. He doesn’t want to think about it, wants to think about nothing but all three of them being alive and well, but if he truly wants to keep it that way, they still have more important things to worry about first.

Clearing his throat and flashing them a strained, apologetic smile, he waits until he has both of their attention. “I’m not sure that we weren’t seen just before we disappeared.”

All the blood drains from Regulus’ face and he flinches back as if he’s been slapped. His hand finds Sirius’ arm, fingers twisting into his sleeve, and James’ heart aches at having to do this at all.

Sirius’ features only harden, jaw setting and lips pressing into a thin line.

James knows what he’s going to say and shakes his head. “We have to leave,” he says, raising his hand to stall Sirius’ protest. “We could go into hiding, but Regulus is right. We have a traitor in the Order, and whatever it is Regulus attempted to do tonight, you and I both know that it was too well-guarded to draw anything but Voldemort’s utmost attention.”

“A Horcrux,” Regulus says quietly, turning his head to send Sirius a look full of meaning that’s lost on James. “Did you take a locket, by any chance?”

“A Horcrux,” Sirius echoes, his voice suddenly hoarse again, and he slowly shakes his head. “We didn’t but I – well I guess it got probably caught up in the Fiendfyre.”

“You – “ Regulus starts, then cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Never mind. James is right though, we can’t stay here. We have to – I need to, I’m – “ he stammers, hands starting to shake and fear filling his eyes.

Sirius’ eyes meet James’, and he finds the same resolve that he’s feeling mirrored back at him, a silent, old promise between the two of them that now includes a third one.

“My parents had a house in the middle of nowhere in Iceland,” he says, a plan starting to take shape in his mind. “We’ve never been there but I know the coordinates to create a Portkey, and that there are a few elves who’ve taken care of it over the years.”

“I should be able to ward it and make it unplottable,” Sirius picks up, already getting to his feet and dragging Regulus with him. “We’ll contact Dumbledore, get a message to him with the information we have and that we’re leaving, nothing more.”

“What about mother?” Regulus asks, the panic receding even though there’s still uncertainty in his eyes. “I know you don’t care but if he saw me, if I disappear…”

Sirius sighs, closing his eyes briefly, but he nods. “Send Kreacher back, order him to not tell anyone but report to her that he hasn’t seen you in days. Voldemort won’t outright kill her if she doesn’t know what’s going on, the support of the family is too important for him.”

There’s a beat of silence as Regulus and Sirius stare at each other, but eventually, Regulus nods, exhaling a sigh. “I hope you’re right.”

Summoning parchment, James hands it to him. “Write down everything you know about – whatever it is you were talking about; I’ll call one of the Potter elves to deliver it later. We’re going to pack a few things, I think Sirius has some clothes that should fit you.”

Regulus nods, fiddling with the quill, and James decides to leave him to it. Just as he and Sirius are about to leave the room, Regulus calls, “Wait!”

Turning back around, James watches him, hoping that there won’t be another argument coming; it’s all a mess already, all of them running on their last reserves of strength, and they can’t afford to lose any more time.

“Thank you,” Regulus says, the words quiet but sincere.

James smiles, but it’s Sirius who answers. “Always.”

As soon as the door to their bedroom closes behind them, Sirius twists, pushing James against the wood and crashing their mouths together.

His own hands come up on instinct, wrapping around Sirius’ waist, and he keeps his eyes closed even as Sirius pulls back to lean their foreheads together.

“We’d all be dead without you,” Sirius chokes out, voice breaking over the words, and his fingers press against James’ jaw so harshly that it’s bordering on painful. “We’d be all dead, and now we have to leave everything behind. Are you – I won’t force you to come with us.”

James huffs a laugh, wet and nearly hysterical. “Merlin, sometimes you’re such an idiot,” he presses out, his own throat closing up. “I’d go anywhere with you, anywhere at all. You should know that by now. And we’ll be safe. At least, we’ll finally be safe.”

The last words linger in his mind, circling as they haphazardly throw clothes and trinkets into bags, packing up only what they’ll need most. Linger as they send off the letter to Dumbledore and create a Portkey out of the mug that Lily gave them as a house-warming gift. As the three of them grab it tightly and are whisked away.

Circle through his mind still, as they set foot into the small cottage at the foot of a mountain, waves crashing in the distance, dark wood cracked with age but warm and cosy and safe.

They’ll be safe.

[astxlphe-fics]

Pink Flowers  // Fukumori

Mori had his feelings for Fukuzawa cut out of him years ago. Hanahaki AU

Word count : ~1700

CW some blood, one murder, one medical malpractice 

When they’re younger, when they’re still a doctor and his bodyguard, Mori is the target of many attempted murders and kidnappings.  

Despite his constant misgivings about bodyguarding, despite the simple fact that Mori doesn’t, actually, need any kind of rescuing, Fukuzawa comes for him.  

Every single time.  

Then they fight together, back to back, as a team, against threats to the fragile balance of Mori’s world, of the neutrality of his underground clinic.  

It’s during those fights that Mori realizes than yes, sometimes he needs Fukuzawa by his side, and that he enjoys his company. They collapse, letting themselves fall sitting on the ground, side by side, bloody and tired.  

Mori sighs and there is a tingle in his throat.  

He doesn’t think much of it, barely notices it, but he does feel the beginning of a fondness for the man.  

+  

The itch at the back of his throat takes months to turn into a full cough, and he spits out the first petal in his own sink, thankfully.  

Having a patient around while he discovers his own illness would be less than ideal. Rumors go fast in the underbelly of Yokohama, and if the news escape his office it’ll quickly make its way to his enemies.  

He picks it up and studies it carefully.  

“How bothersome,” he declares, throwing it in the trash.  

But what can he do about it?  

There are several things he can do, in fact.  

First option — kill Fukuzawa before this disease takes a hold of him. But it’ll upset Natsume, and he isn’t sure he is capable of killing his bodyguard.  

Second option — get rid of the feeling altogether. While this is something he can eventually do on his own, letting it fade, an operation would be a sure way to fix the issue. The problem: he can’t operate himself.

Third option — seduce the man. Make sure that what Mori apparently feels for him is returned. Keep him by his sides, for good.  

This thought is infinitely more appealing than the first two.  

He doesn’t have to decide immediately. He doesn’t want to.  

“What do you think, Elise?”  

She looks up from her picture book. “I think you’re gross.”  

His laughter makes him cough again. Another petal comes out, and he thinks of every possibility again. He thinks of Fukuzawa, of the flowers fading from his lungs as the man holds him close.  

He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Hanahaki isn’t a kind illness, but it’s considerate enough to make the killing slow.  

+  

Elise doesn’t start looking worried until a few months later, when he wakes up gasping for breath, petals sticking to the back of his throat and spilling out of his mouth.  

Her reaction tells him the situation might become critical soon.  

It’s more anger than worry, to be fair, and she throws some of his tools to the ground in a fit of rage. “Just kill him!” she yells, before crossing her arms and setting her face into a pout. “I’m starting to feel sick too, so get rid of him before he kills the both of us.”  

He would, usually, cave in to whatever Elise demands of him. He loves her, after all, and anything she wants is worth getting for her.  

But not this. This is something he can’t give her.  

+  

By the time Fukuzawa finds out about Yosano, Mori is throwing up whole flowers. It’s starting to affect his work, but it doesn’t look like Fukuzawa has noticed.  

If he has, he hasn’t said anything about it, which is fine by Mori.  

They fight — of course they fight, but it’s not like they usually do.  

Everyday fighting is banter and annoying each other, it’s Fukuzawa coming for him every time he gets into trouble, no matter how much he doesn’t need it.  

Everyday fighting makes the flowers in Mori’s lungs grow larger. It makes Mori want this man to love him.  

His chest tightens, thinking about what they have the potential to be, about how much they could do for this city just by being together, about the kind of embrace he could give him.

Fukuzawa draws his sword, and Mori almost chokes, swallowing down the flowers threatening to fall from his lips.

There is no fixing it now.  

+  

Their partnership broken, the illness gains more ground, with no hope of recovery through more...traditional means.  

It quickly becomes urgent to do something about it. The flowers are larger than ever, and if he was a lesser man, he would cry thinking about what they could have been, he would go back to Fukuzawa and ask him to reconsider, to come back to him.  

Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes, grieving for a relationship that doesn’t exist, which was doomed from the day he threw up that first petal.

He is not a lesser man, however. He shoves his own fingers down his throat to drag the flowers out. They clog the sink, bloodied and of a horribly cheerful pink color.  

How those feelings have made him weak. They make him sick with a deadly disease, shift his focus, make him yearn for something he knows he can never have.  

He needs to get rid of them as soon as he can.  

“Look at you!” Elise scolds him. “I told you, we should have killed him.”  

“I’m sorry Elise.” He smiles at her sheepishly, because she is right. He should have dealt with it a long time ago. He just hadn’t wanted to.  

They make him irrational.  

There are other underground doctors in the city, though none of them as skilled, none of them as reputed, as he is. He will find someone to take care of it.  

She scowls, eyebrows drawing together, and she tugs at his sleeve. “You’re so stupid, Rintarou.”  

+  

The other doctor is surprised to see him, of all people, but he gets to work quickly. He looks smug, knowing such a thing about Mori Ougai, about the weakness taking over him.  

He will use it against him, in the future, if he can.  

Mori doesn’t let him entertain the idea.  

He refuses any kind of anesthetics, unwilling to put himself at the mercy of another person with a scalpel, and Elise stands guard. The other doctor underestimates her, but Mori knows she can recognize any suspicious medical action and rise up to protect him with barely any prompting.  

The doctor opens him up and fixes him, and the pain means nothing when he’s finally getting rid of the feelings he has for Fukuzawa Yukichi, for they have been weighing on him since the beginning, far more than he ever admitted to.  

When it’s done, he’s both curious and satisfied to realize that what he feels is now little more than indifference. Everything he has wished for since the start, to have him standing by his side, for lips on his skin and to be the only one in his eyes, seems ludicrous now. A waste of time and energy.  

He cuts the doctor’s throat once he’s done and looks for any witness. Then, he puts Fukuzawa out of his mind, and moves on.  

His work won’t do itself. He has a Mafia boss to take care of.  

Time to get down to business.  

+  

"It’s a pity.”  

Blood seeps out of Fukuzawa’s neck, and Mori is regretful, surprising even himself, though it’s not as personal as it could have been, once.  

His feelings for Fukuzawa were cut out of him years ago.  

Without this virus, they could have been a team again and crushed those rats with ease. They were always a deadly combination, so this is nothing but a missed opportunity.  

But first comes the security and well-being of his own, and any feeling he allows himself those days is for them, for the Mafia — and for Elise, of course, but she is something else entirely.

He still apologizes for cheating. He may not love the man anymore, but he respects his strength and a fair fight would have ended in Mori’s defeat. It’s not something he can allow again, not with so much at stake.

All he needs now, is to wait for Elise to pop back up into existence, stay here until Fukuzawa dies — it’s the least he can do for his old teammate — and prepare for the rage of the Detective Agency.  

Until Natsume shows up to scold them and drags them away to Dostoievski’s hideout.  

Later, as they’re on their way, it’s plain in the way Natsume looks at him that he knows. Mori doesn’t care. He has done what needed to be done.  

Elise reappears soon after, and he gives her a hug that she pretends to protest to. She will always be the most constant thing in his life, the only one who he knows will stand by him until his last breath.  

+  

The virus fades, and the ability user at the origin of it tries to run. Fukuzawa and Mori grab him before he can, together, like old times.

It makes Fukuzawa nostalgic, in a sense. He misses the team they used to be, before they each took a different walk of life. Before he learned of Yosano.

A part of him wishes that, when this is over, when they have won against Dostoievski, they can stay this way — a little bit of a team, again.

He wonders what Dazai is planning, forcing Akutagawa and Atsushi together.  

Both boys are like rough diamonds, and Dazai is playing a dangerous game, hitting them against each other like this. There is little he can do but trust Dazai’s judgement and hope the sparks he makes don’t start too big of a fire.

Though, knowing him, he would probably say it’s the point.

Mori, he can tell, is thinking the same, though he doesn’t speak of it. He catches him glancing at the pair, eyes lingering on Atsushi, and Fukuzawa can’t blame him for it. He’s just as doubtful of the black-clad young man with whom his subordinate already seems to have a quiet understanding.

The Mafia leaves. Fukuzawa watches as Mori’s red scarf billows in the wind.  

There is an itch in his throat.  

[persephonemine]

RP Masterlist

Plots. Prompts. AUs. Tropes. What have you.

#YAS #UNF-- GOOD SHIT #👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 GOOD SHIT GO౦Ԁ SHIT👌 THATS ✔ SOME GOOD👌👌SHIT RIGHT👌👌THERE👌👌👌 RIGHT✔THERE ✔✔IF I DO ƼAҮ SO MY SELF 💯 I SAY SO �

Please know this: These will be updated from time to time! Many of these plots I’ve worked hard on and am eager to try out. Yes, a lot of them are romantic or darkly romantic -- sorry. Most of these can be altered to fit whatever we want. Some of them will be pretty hard to RP, I recognize. Whoops! Plenty of these can be really angsty, dark, and well -- hopefully we can have some fun with that.

                                                         Plots.

“Take it Back” // Pink Floyd Post-Apocalyptic AU Ten or so years after the Zombie Outbreak.

“The Scout.”

1.) Muse A is from a well secured township and is sent to scout as to why its sister location has gone radio silent. They run into Muse B on the way. Do they work together and travel to the sister location or is Muse B the reason the sister location is down?

1.2) If Muse B is the cause of the fall of the sister location, why? What were the reasons? What happened behind closed doors of that township?

“Supplies.”

2.) Muse A is on a supply run and runs into Muse B. Do they decide to band together for survival or do they fight for the supplies Muse A has found? 2.1.) Muse A is on a supply run and runs into Muse B. Muse B is wounded and Muse A manages to rescue and heal Muse B. Do they stick together afterwards or does Muse B skip town?

2.2) Muse B tells Muse A of their plans to go to a place that is claimed to be some sort of sanctuary by someone on the radio they’ve found. Muse A decides to accompany Muse B. Is it truly sanctuary or is there something rotten afoot?

“Provisions.”

3.) Muse B is caught by Muse A for hoarding rations and keeping more than their fair share. In a desperate attempt to keep Muse A from outing them and potentially being ejected from the group, Muse B confides in them that they’re pregnant and unsure of how they’re going to be able to survive with a child and so have kept extras for future use.

3.1) Muse A decides to kick it up a notch and has quickly placed themselves at Muse A’s side and vows to fulfill whatever roles Muse B needs, spouse, parent, provider, etc.

“Just a peek.” Life Could Be A Dream // The Crew-Cuts

1.) Muse B gets a furtive glance of the future. They see a fulfilling, wonderful life with Muse A -- kids, house, stability, true love, real happiness. Do they want it? Is this something they’ve dreamt of? Is it something they want with Muse A? Or is it something they never considered before? Something they never wanted at all? Do they pursue it or do they fight it? 

1.2) Muse B and Muse A do not get along or are enemies. What changes in Muse B’s behaviour after seeing the vision or do they maintain their stance?

1.3) Muse B got the vision wrong -- and it is not their future with Muse A but instead Muse C’s. Do they attempt to take it for themselves or let it go?

“Pack it up.” Send Me On My Way // Rusted Root

1.) The muses have to live with each other for some reason or another despite not liking each other. They’ve got to make it work. The apartment is cramped with only one bathroom. It’s up to them to make it into a cozy home. The muses must decorate and furnish their new apartment. To the shopping centers they go! 1.2) Muse A has been standoffish, cold towards Muse B for whatever reasons until they see Muse B do mundane, domestic, pedestrian things and finds themselves quickly falling for them. 1.3) Muse B has been nursing a crush on Muse A but due to Muse A’s standoffish nature towards them, they never let their feelings be known.

“If you go, I’ll stay. If you come back, I’ll be right here.” Where’s My Love // SYML Reincarnation!AU 

1.) The muses have spent every lifetime together, whether they know it or not. From their first incarnation, throughout every era, they have found each other, fought for each other, and loved each other. They’ve belonged together in any form. This time, it’s different… Muse A remembers all their past lives with Muse B. They know that they’re missing Muse B in this lifetime -- where are they?

1.2) Muse B is with someone else and it’s up to Muse A to win them back. Do they tell them of their past lives? How are they going to get the love of their lives back to where they belong: with them?

“Funnel cake madness.” Younger // Tony Anderson

1.) The muses go to the carnival! Rides, food, fireworks, and showing off at the games to win each other stuffed animals.

“Someone to stay.” Amnesia!AU Crimson and Clover // Tommy James and the Shondells

1.) Muse A suffers from amnesia and must rely on Muse B for just about everything.

1.2) Dark! Muse A actually doesn’t know Muse B and Muse B chooses to falsify memories and a whole life together with Muse A.

“absentia” The Night We Met // Lord Huron

1.) Muse A suddenly vanishes but no one is talking about it. Muse B is absolutely panicked over this as Muse A is special to them. But no one even recalls Muse A and think Muse B is losing it. Was Muse A even real or were they someone Muse B created to deal with trauma? Looking through photos and videos, there is no Muse A. When Muse B is about to accept that Muse A was never real… they find an old wallet photo of Muse A and Muse B together.

1.2) Muse B has a choice. Show others of this proof of Muse A or keep it hidden. Who is in on Muse A’s vanishing and erasure of their life? How will Muse B get them back? How far will they go to reclaim what’s theirs?

“Operation: Romance their pants off.” Fake Date!AU Tonight You Belong To Me // Patience and Prudence

1.) Muse A goes to Muse B to help them woo Muse C. Muse B is secretly in love with Muse A but they just want them to be happy, so they suck it up, and help Muse A.

1.2) Muse A decides the best way to get Muse C’s attention is through jealousy and convinces Muse B to fake date them.

1.3) Eventually it comes to light as to what Muse A is up to. Muse A made a move on Muse C and Muse C wants to know why Muse A is trying to cheat on Muse B. Muse A fesses up to what’s been happening and Muse C laughs it off and accidentally outs Muse B’s romantic feelings towards Muse A.

1.4) OR -- Muse A begins developing feelings for Muse B as they fake date and they have to figure out a way to stop fake-dating and start real-dating.

“Oh, god. It’s you.” Mr. Sandman // SYML

1.) Muse B does a summoning spell to locate their one true love. Muse A appears. These two do not get along. Confusion is had.

1.2) Muse A wants to know what the spell was. Muse B refuses to say.

1.3) Bonus. Muse B has done the spell wrong and now Muse A cannot go too far from them, forcing them to live together, work together, etc. Muse B starts to see why they’re their true love in the pedestrian, domestic, everyday things they witness Muse A doing.

“Second chances.” Mona

1.) After a one night stand, Mona doesn’t think she’s going to see Muse B ever again -- until she finds out she’s pregnant. Having fertility issues, she sees this as a second chance and seeks out Muse B to tell them she is keeping the offspring whether they want to be a part of it or not.

1.2) Muse B wants to be a part of the pregnancy and the child’s life, and so Mona moves in with them to give the relationship a shot, platonic or otherwise. 

“The Guy in the American Flag Onesie.” Josette

1.) Freshly new to this dimension, Jo attempts to settle into a typical terran life. But she’s no idea who all these heroes are. Watching the news at a diner, she cracks a joke about not knowing who Captain America is.

1.2) Overhearing this, someone sits down across from her, and tells her just who Captain America is -- from Steve Rogers himself.

                                                       AUs.

Grease Arranged Marriage Mermaid Fake Date Bodyguard Fake Engagement Love Potion Undercover Couple Wrongfully Convicted/Hiding from the Law College High School Soulmates [ fave ] Zombie Reincarnation Amnesia Time Traveling Roommates Forced Roommates Suddenly Parents Royalty (Victorian, Elizabethan, Medieval, Modern, etc) Spies Assassins Werewolf/Vampire ABO Yandere

                                                      Pairings.

Bad Guy/Good Girl Good Guy/Bad Girl Bad Guy/Bad Girl Neighbors Friends to lovers Friends with benefits to lovers Love at first sight Enemies to lovers Hero/Villain Hero/Civilian Hero/Antihero Villain/Civilian Teacher/Student Age Gap [legal!] Supernatural Creature/Human Supernatural Creature/Supernatural Creature Friends to enemies to lovers

                                       Prompts // Tropes.

Friends to enemies to lovers.

Magic Made Me Do It!

reverse fake dating: very in love couple has to pretend they’re not actually together.

Seasonal Things: Carving pumpkins, going on hayrides, going to haunted houses, trick ‘r treating, gift shopping, skiing, camping, hanging up Christmas lights, etc.

Mutual Pining. [ fave ]

The hero and villain falling in love.

Slowburn. [ f a v e ]

soft/hard: basically where one character is cold, ruthless, driven, and other is kind, forgiving, and gentle. Just complete opposites. How the cold one can be merciless to everyone else except the one person they love and how fiercely loyal and loving they are towards that person. On the flip side, the soft person soothes the cold one and has a way to make them feel truly happy, truly at peace for the first time in their lives. [ f a v e ]

Grungy, rogue, uncivilized Muse A and the proper, tidy, law-abiding Muse B falling in love with one another.

Opposites attract.

Blind dates.

Age differences.

Height differences.

You bonded with my kid and now we’re kind of a couple. [ fave ] // my kid adopted the quiet loner at the park and now I kinda have a boyfriend. [ fave ]

Mistaken identity. Shy muse and outgoing muse.

                                                       Songs.

I Found // Amber Run Into Dust // Mazzy Star Take it Back // Pink Floyd Coming Back to Life // Pink Floyd High Hopes // Pink Floyd Show Me Love // Laura Mvula Your Way Is The Way Home // Tired Pony Younger // Tony Anderson Tonight You Belong To Me // Patience and Prudence Mr. Sandman // SYML Where is my love? // SYML Body // SYML Life Could Be A Dream // The Crew-Cuts Be My Baby // The Ronettes yes to heaven // Lana Del Rey Crimson and Clover // Tommy James and the Shondells Crazy On You // Heart The Night We Met // Lord Huron Send Me On My Way // Rusted Root Where Is My Mind? // Pixies Someone to Stay // Vancouver Sleep Clinic Night Moves // Bob Seger Nights In White Satin // The Moody Blues Bad Blood // Neil Sedaka & Elton John Rocket Man // Elton John To Build a Home // The Cinematic Orchestra You // The Pretty Reckless I'm On Fire // Bruce Springsteen When the Night is Over // Lord Huron Hurts Like Hell // Fleurie

If anything here catches your interest, hit me up! I also have a discord I don’t mind sharing. :)

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 6.9

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

Last time as we got even deeper into the fiction reveals of trial 6, I tried probably too hard to justify the auditionees’ nonsensical ideas of how any of this even works, those assholes were nonetheless not the same people as our friends in here in any meaningful way, Tsumugi’s claim that she scripted Maki’s feelings for Kaito was total bullshit but still hit Maki right in the issues about being her own person, her similarly bullshit claim that Kaede and Kaito were never real hit Shuichi right in his own dependency issues, the audience completely stopped being even remotely believable human beings in their reactions to this, and Shuichi broke down and needs to reboot.

While we’re waiting for that to happen, we’ll have to make do with Keebo.

BAD END

…

Keebo:  “Is this the end? Please tell me. I’m asking you.”

I suppose we’re meant to believe that the Bad End message is something that Keebo sees? Which seems kind of odd. Or maybe it’s just something that the in-universe audience were shown through Keebo’s eyes.

But it also kind of reads as more of an out-universe thing, since we the players are the only ones playing this as an actual game that could potentially have bad endings. This kind of gives this the effect that Keebo is also speaking to us, the out-universe audience, and that we’ve been his inner voice this whole time. Which doesn’t actually make sense – if we’ve been anyone’s inner voice it’s been Shuichi’s, but that’s obviously not really an in-universe thing.

This is probably for the sake of trying to fool us into feeling like the in-universe audience is a force for good, just like Keebo is going to still naively believe for a while. Not sure how convincing that is after a proportion of the audience last time had absolutely zero empathy with Shuichi’s despair, though.

Keebo:  “Whenever I was in trouble, my inner voice would always guide me. That guidance is what brought me here. I don’t believe that’s a mistake.”

His inner voice’s guidance has done fuck all to bring him here. He’s here because he was lucky enough that nobody happened to try to murder him, and sensible enough not to kill anyone himself. I would like to give Keebo enough credit to think that he didn’t need his inner voice to talk him out of murder (…well, at least until this chapter, apparently). All the voice has done is make his actions a bit more proactive and optimistic, but that has meaningfully affected basically nothing of note that’s happened here.

Save this situation?

-      No

Remedy this situation?

-      Yes

It is perhaps a little confusing that you’re meant to say no to the first prompt, because one might have already realised that it’s not necessarily a literal save-the-game prompt and is instead talking about saving Keebo’s friends. This probably works better in Japanese, in which the first word is the English loanword “save”, which I don’t think has any meanings other than the save-the-game meaning, and then it changes to an actual Japanese word for save/rescue/ etc.

Keebo:  “My inner voice is telling me I need to… remedy this situation.”

Apparently this is very much not the same part of the audience that was just mindlessly and sadistically laughing about Shuichi’s despair last time. Since Keebo’s inner voice is an audience survey, it must be a majority that wants this instead, which means we have to assume that those comments we saw before were deliberately cherry-picked to be all the despair-loving ones.

At least this does a decent job of actually making the in-universe audience feel like the good guys, then, since they don’t want Shuichi and friends to be in despair. It makes them seem that way for now, at least.

Oh hey, here’s the music from Danganronpa 1 that was essentially Makoto’s “objection” theme. Of course that’s showing up in this game now. Keebo is basically supposed to be playing Makoto’s role, after all. (Emphasis on supposed.)

Keebo:  “We can’t give up. No matter what, hope is always within reach. We must keep our heads high and search for hope, even in the deepest despair.”

Aaaaaand it’s meaningless buzzword time! You can’t search for hope itself. The act of searching is hope, but only if you’re searching for something that will meaningfully, tangibly make your situation better!

Shuichi:  “Hope…?”

I wonder if Shuichi’s realising that what Keebo’s saying doesn’t mean anything and is wondering why he’s throwing this word around so eagerly for no reason. Nothing is going to give Shuichi hope without actually addressing the reason he’s in despair, encouraging him to believe that he’s not all just fictional and his friends weren’t just empty lies. Without that, Keebo is just spouting meaningless platitudes that won’t solve a thing.

Keebo:  “…You said so yourself – this killing game is the Ultimate Real Fiction. If this is both real and fiction, then logically it can’t all be fiction.”

This is an actually useful argument he’s making, at least. But he really shouldn’t need to use logical deduction from Tsumugi’s words to realise that obviously they’re still real in the sense that they exist and have physical bodies and will really die – and therefore that all of that applied to their friends who died, too.

Tsumugi:  “Oh, your inner voice? That’s the voice of the outside world.”

It should be a huge risk for her to be telling him this. Logically this should immediately lead to Keebo refusing to listen to anything his inner voice is saying to him. He won’t for a long while, though, because he’s apparently kind of an idiot. Or just very, very brainwashed. Or a bit of both.

Tsumugi:  “I know cuz I wrote your plotline, too.”

That’s not a “plotline”, that’s just a neat audience-participation feature. The actual plotline that Keebo would follow based on that is entirely up to the audience.

Tsumugi:  “You’re the audience surrogate.”

This might partly explain why Keebo’s character has always been rather vaguely defined and they never did much with all the interesting potential of him being a robot who’s trying his hardest to learn to be human: because he’s supposed to be a blank-slate self-insert for the in-universe audience to see themselves as. They’re obviously not going to be able to relate his thing of being a robot. Makoto and Hajime were both pretty ordinary guys without anything too overly distinctive about them because they were basically audience surrogates, too.

(And Kaede and Shuichi have far more distinct personalities and characters because they’re not audience surrogates like the previous two games’ protagonists were.)

“Hifumi”:  “That function exists to keep the audience entertained.”

Yes, because clearly they’d all have been super bored by this whole killing game if they hadn’t been giving Keebo meaningless nudges to be a little more optimistic from time to time. Nothing else about this game has been remotely entertaining without him, right!?

The hints earlier that Danganronpa might have been getting stale and on its last legs by now do support the idea that this is something they did to try and keep people interested, but Tsumugi is still giving herself way too much credit here.

“Chihiro”:  “It’s two-way communication that lets you participate in the program from home.”

Oh, boy, is this the line that’s supposed to justify how Shuichi will ultimately change the outside world by yelling at them a bunch – because he does it through Keebo’s nebulous “communication” feature? Yeah, because that’s totally so different from them simply listening to him because they’re watching this trial.

Tsumugi:  “The outside world has been watching from your eyes the whole time! It lets them feel like they’re really a part of the Danganronpa world!”

This cannot be the whole truth. For one thing, if they’ve only ever seen through Keebo’s eyes, then outside of trials, the audience must have been really, really bored? All of the interesting character interactions – all of the watching Shuichi grow and develop which was in-universely meant to be one of the main plotlines of this story – happened nowhere near Keebo. The audience should have been poking Keebo to hang out with more people, maybe get closer to Shuichi, so that they could actually see any of that.

(Although the fact that Keebo apparently spent more of his time with Miu than anyone else is… unfortunately probably quite an accurate representation of what an audience would do. I have seen way too many LPers of this game hang out with Miu for reasons that completely elude me because why would anyone ever want more of her than necessary unless they’re shallowly taken in by the fanservice. I feel very bad for the sensible minority watching through Keebo’s eyes who were fed up with her but didn’t have enough of a majority vote to do anything about it.)

But that collage of illustrations we had a while ago that Tsumugi presented as part of “Danganronpa V3” rather proves that Keebo’s camera is not the audience’s only viewing option. Why would they want to limit the viewers to just that when they have Nanokumas everywhere and could be giving them the choice to follow whichever character they want? And since the Nanokumas are so invisible and mobile that they can get any angle, watching via them would also make one feel as though they’re really in the Danganronpa world anyway, even if it’s not literally through a character’s eyes.

Tsumugi:  “That’s why I’m so glad you survived all the way through!”

What the hell were you planning to do if he didn’t? Did you not even have any kind of failsafe in place to try and make sure nobody happened to murder him?

“Junko”:  “If the audience surrogate falls into despair, then the audience does, too. By making you fall into despair, I can make the entire world fall into despair!”

That’s, uh, not how audience surrogates work. The audience only feels the same thing their surrogate characters feel through the power of empathy and imagination, but that’s not the same thing as actually being in despair when their character is. If anything, seeing Keebo fall into despair should just make the audience cheer more for him to not give up and keep having hope. You know, just like they should also be cheering for Shuichi and his friends to not despair right now, if they were a halfway reasonable and decent audience.

“Junko”:  “My despair will turn from fiction to fact and destroy reality itself.”

However, Tsumugi most likely knows that this doesn’t make sense and is really just saying this to try and pander to the audience and make them feel like this matters. While it’s kind of half her fault for practically telling them herself, the characters in this story have completely messed up her script by figuring out how fictional this all is. But hey! Never mind them (who cares about them anyway they’re not real, right), this is totally all about you guys in the audience! She’s trying to make everyone ignore the fact that her story has gone completely off the rails and is no longer remotely about what it’s supposed to be about by enticing them with the idea that it’s now the audience’s story. You’re the ones in danger now! You’re the ones who get to fight and defeat Junko! Isn’t that just so fun, you guys???

Which, A, doesn’t even make any sense in the first place and, B, is horrendously bad storytelling to suddenly abandon the characters this story was supposed to be about like they’re irrelevant. But it’s going to work on this audience, because apparently they never really gave a fuck about any of this story’s characters in the first place, even though that’s the exact opposite of how an audience should act!

Maki:  “Is that why… you want the world to fall into despair?”

Maki Roll, don’t fall for it! That’s not what she’s trying to do and she doesn’t care about any of that! Maki has always been the most subsceptible to manipulation, and it seems like that one Flashback Light that brainwashed them into thinking that “despair” is always bad and that they are symbols of “hope” who must always defeat despair is still affecting her in ways she doesn’t realise are manipulation.

Himiko:  “Th-That’s… messed up!”

Himiko also briefly comments on this here like she might be buying this. Shuichi does not. He’s just staying quiet and watching.

“Nekomaru”:  “The outside world wants to see horrible setups and payoffs!”

That should be the case, because those are the kind of things that make a good story. But suddenly yelling about despair taking over the world in a way that makes no sense and is unconnected to any of the setup we’ve had this whole time? Not a payoff for anything. Should not be something the audience wants. They should want actual payoff for the characters they’ve been watching all this time.

“Nagito”:  “What could be more horrible than a fictional despair eroding the real world?”

“Junko”:  “No one could’ve imagined an end this hopeless.”

Yes, look, you guys, this is totally a super awesome plotline she’s come up with and it’s one that lets all of you be the heroes! please keep watching don’t change the channel just because things have gone off-script help

Keebo:  “…No. I won’t give in to despair!”

Tsumugi:  “Huuuh?”

Tsumugi has a gleeful “oh, I’m so surprised!” face here. She is making it quite obvious that Keebo’s reaction is exactly what she was going for. Keebo, no.

Keebo:  “If that’s the voice of the outside world, then the outside world actually wants hope!”

At this point, now that Tsumugi’s veered things around to totally be about the audience’s despair because who even cares about these people who aren’t real, is Keebo even talking about “hope” for Shuichi and the others? Or is this just “hope” for the audience to protect them from the evil despair that’s totally going to be inflicted on them? Almost certainly the latter.

K1-B0 – Ultimate Hope Robot

This is so clearly trying to rip off the ending of DR1. Which the audience is going to lap up because they’re raging genwunners. But this doesn’t work anything like that, because that hope was used to inspire the rest of the characters that the story was actually about. This is very emphatically not going to be that.

“Junko”:  “What is this?”

Keebo:  “This is the power of hope!”

It’s really not. It’s one guy who doesn’t have a clue what’s really going on yelling a bunch of meaningless words.

“Makoto”:  “The final battle between hope and despair!”

It was never a fucking battle! But no, of course it was, that’s definitely always been what those two words are about.

“Nagito”:  “The class trial is in disarray because Monokuma broke a rule…”

Himiko:  “You’re the one who broke the rule…”

Hah, I like that someone calls her out on that. Tsumugi’s still running away from all responsibility, because of course she is.

(“Smiling, putting on a mask, never saying what you really think. That kind of cowardice is just like Monokuma!” Kaito was really talking about the mastermind hiding behind Monokuma rather than Monokuma himself when he said that – and now she’s putting on even more literal masks than ever before.)

“Sayaka”:  “How about we start over and have a special vote?”

Keebo:  “…A special vote? But you’re the one who broke the rules in the first place—”

Keebo is quite right to point out that Tsumugi does not have the right to do any kind of life-or-death vote now that she’s broken the rules and messed everything up. Tsumugi, of course, completely brushes off his protest and does it anyway… and the audience lets her.

Trial 5’s whole premise of “Monokuma can’t do what he likes once he’s provably broken the rules” only works because the audience was supposed to agree that it’s unfair and cry foul, but… it turns out the audience is actually a bunch of mindless idiots who are totally okay with a meaningless vote and meaningless deaths to get them their hope fix. So… Kaito’s attempted best-case outcome in trial 5, which he was going for in the hope of saving his friends’ lives and ending the killing game, would actually have saved no-one and ended nothing anyway??? And what Kaito did achieve – letting Shuichi know that Monokuma can’t get things wrong because of the audience, which is why Shuichi went into this trial to prove Kaede spotless in another attempt to end the killing game – is also meaningless? Kaito faked his death and lied to his friends for a whole trial for nothing?

Out-universe writers, no. Why would you ever think this is okay? How can you just completely undermine the best case of the game like this?

(They’re also clearly not trying to go for a deliberate gut-punch of making Kaito’s efforts pointless, because the narrative isn’t acknowledging this at all. Apparently the in-universe writers are not the only ones who have no idea what they’re doing here.)

“Kazuichi”:  “Let’s just do one last vote!”

Monokuma:  “Cuz that’s what Danganronpa’s all about!”

The fact that DR1 and DR2’s stories happened to work fairly well with a final vote does not mean that it should be taken as a necessary part of a Danganronpa storyline to the point of shoehorning one in even when it doesn’t work.

The final vote in DR2 worked because that wasn’t decided on by Junko and was just a result of the way the world had been programmed. And the final vote in DR1 may have been also forced through by Junko when she didn’t really have the right to do so any more – but she was never entertaining her audience, she was forcing them to watch in order to make a point. Her vote continued that theme, because it was essentially Junko making Makoto stake his life on the belief that his friends would agree with his philosophy of hope (in her attempt to prove that they wouldn’t). Only Makoto’s life was on the line in it, and it was for a reason that was relevant to what had been happening and what he’d been advocating, so it didn’t feel especially unfair, at least not more so than you’d expect Junko to be given she wanted lives to be at stake for everything.

The vote we’re about to be forced into here is almost nothing like that. Oh boy.

Tsumugi:  “Between Keebo and I… Which of us should get punished?”

If that was all, that’d be fairly analogous to the DR1 final vote, and fairly acceptable. Keebo and Tsumugi are (supposedly) having a clash of philosophies, so this would just be them staking their lives on that. If it was only their lives on the line.

Himiko:  “To end in hope…?”

Maki:  “To end in despair…?”

Shuichi:  “We decide…?”

Yeah, why should these three get to decide? I thought this story was suddenly all about the audience now, not them! They’re not even real people, right? Why should they get to determine which out of hope or despair the audience wants to see?

But the vote they’re about to have doesn’t have anything to do with this whole deal of “bringing despair to the outside world” or about which one the audience prefers. Because Tsumugi doesn’t have a goddamn clue what she’s doing with any of this nonsense and might as well have not even done that whole bit in the first place. I hope this is out-universely deliberate at least, but at this point my faith in the out-universe writers is slipping.

Tsumugi explains that the “Despair wins” choice will result in everyone except Keebo continuing to live in the school, technically continuing the killing game but presumably never actually killing each other any more now that they know all the motives will be lies.

Keebo:  “No! That’s no way to live! Imprisoned in this school, living lives of despair—”

How exactly would that be a life of “despair”, Keebo? They’d be stuck there, sure, but at least the three of them would be alive, and they’re friends (minus Tsumugi, who would hopefully fuck off and leave them alone), so they should be able to find some semblance of happiness in it. You’re only saying it’d be “despair” because Tsumugi has arbitrarily slapped that label on it and therefore it must be nothing but bad, because “hope” is always good and “despair” is always evil, right?

“Toko”:  “E-Even if you went outside, there’d be n-no point.”

“Byakuya”:  “As I said, all your memories are nothing but fiction.”

“Imposter Byakuya”:  “Your hometowns, your families, your friends… they never existed in the first place.”

Wow, Tsumugi, you sure are making the option where they get to escape look more despairing than the one where they stay inside here and never have to face any of that stuff.

…Which actually is kind of analogous to the first game in that they’d be going out into a hostile world where they’re going to struggle to find their feet, and they’ll have to hope that they’ll be okay in that world despite everything. If the narrative was going to present it that way and have Keebo encourage them to still try and live in that world even if it’s scary because it’s better than being boringly trapped in here forever, this’d be acceptably similar to DR1. But nope, that’s not remotely what we’re going to be doing here.

Himiko:  “Th-Then at least put us back how we were!”

No, Himiko! Admittedly we didn’t see Himiko’s audition so she didn’t see what she “used to be” like, but the auditions they did see should make it very clear to all of them that the people they “used to be” weren’t them. None of you want to go back to being those people, guys; you should be able to see that! The people that you are now would stop existing if you did that! For all intents and purposes, you’d die!

Tsumugi explains that that’s impossible because Flashback Lights don’t actually retrieve lost memories and can only overwrite existing memories with fake ones. But it being impossible should not be the point anyway. None of them should even want this in the first place.

Shuichi:  “So… we can’t go back to the way we were?”

Shuichi, you saw the person who used to live in your body! You can’t possibly want to be him! You’d forget everything about Kaito and Kaede and become someone who wants to get executed in a killing game!

Apparently Tsumugi’s insistence that they’re all entirely “fake” has got to them so much that, despite all the evidence, they’re just clinging to the idea that “real” has got to be better, and nooooooo, guys, snap out of it!

Buuut it’s the “hope wins” outcome of the vote that’s the really stupid part. Tsumugi is punished and they get to escape, except…

“Taka”:  “However, you must follow the rules! The game will continue until the final two!”

Tsumugi:  “So only two of you can graduate.”

And why, pray tell, the absolute fuck, is this remotely necessary? The only reason that two-person rule exists should be as a minimum, because it’s not possible to hold a class trial with only two people left. If it’s also a strict maximum, then that means that this game is designed to kill fourteen people no matter what, even if there aren’t enough in-game murders for that. The point of this killing game is supposed to be that the participants brought all the deaths upon themselves (even though that’s not really a fair assessment at all when they were manipulated into it). Executing more people anyway even when it’s not prompted by someone becoming blackened in the first place is arbitrarily cruel and not in the spirit of the game at all. This rule should have completely ceased to apply any more, now that we’re in “endgame” mode where clearly nobody is going to commit any more murders. Killing two of them at this point just to adhere to this pointless rule is meaningless as fuck.

Plus, what right does Tsumugi even have any more to insist that they adhere to the rules when she broke them first? Oh, right, because the audience are mindless morons who don’t actually care if she breaks them despite the entire point of trial 5. (Geez, even Kokichi expected better from the audience than this.)

So, the bottom line is that this “hope wins” ending is… two of them get to escape into an outside world that doesn’t even see them as real people, after watching two more of their friends get completely pointlessly and arbitrarily killed. Such hope! Such meaning! Such narrative!

(Okay, they won’t get killed, as we’ll learn later on, but still. It is no less arbitrary.)

Shuichi:  “… We got this far… and you’re telling us to sacrifice more of our friends?”

Shuichi is crying and I don’t blame him. Why? Why should he have to lose even more of his friends for no reason? This isn’t fair! At least Kaede and Kaito’s sacrifices happened because they tried to make a difference, but this would be nothing like that!

“Gundham”:  “However… even if you do escape to the outside world, you will find it most unwelcoming.”

Keebo:  “…No! As long as we never give up, there will always be hope!”

Keebo. Dude. If you were trying to reassure everyone to stay hopeful about things that actually mattered, namely the idea that the outside world wouldn’t welcome them, or the thought of losing more friends, then maybe this would kinda sorta work and be a bit like Makoto was in DR1. But you’re just spouting meaningless platitudes! Stop it!

Keebo:  “If it will bring hope to everyone and the outside world, I will gladly sacrifice myself.”

You dying for completely arbitrary reasons is not going to make your friends hope for anything, Keebo! And you especially shouldn’t give a fuck what the outside world that’s gleefully watched your friends die wants from you!

I don’t hold it against Keebo, because he is genuinely well-meaning and trying to do a good thing here, but he is so, so deluded and misled.

“Makoto”:  “In order for hope to win, there needs to be one more sacrifice.”

That sentence doesn’t make any sense! That’s not hope! In the real Makoto’s story, hope winning didn’t sacrifice anyone except the mastermind! Makoto himself would have called total bullshit on the idea that pointlessly sacrificing his friends would be for the sake of any kind of hope!

“Sonia”:  “Do you understand now? Even if you choose hope, you will still suffer.”

Okay, so, look, I’m not saying that hope doesn’t involve suffering. Remember when I talked about my first-time experience of Kaito’s trial and how the rekindled hope that he might be alive was utterly terrifying? Yeah, hope is scary. But real hope is scary because it’s uncertain, because of the constant possibility that you might not get what you’re hoping for and fall back into despair. Being forced to feel completely arbitrary separate pain that has nothing to do with what you’re hoping for (in this context, they’d be hoping they can fit in in an outside world that doesn’t see them as real people) is not part of the reason that hope itself is difficult and scary and is completely beside the fucking point.

Tsumugi using Sonia here is the beginning of a sequence of her cosplaying almost all of the female characters (plus Chihiro) and having them be all “won’t you stay here with us~? *blush*”. Which is obviously deliberate pandering.

But, like… who is this pandering to? Isn’t she supposed to be persuading Maki, Himiko and Shuichi right now? There’s no evidence that Maki and Himiko are into girls, and while Shuichi apparently is, why should he care about these people that are, to his fake memories, historical figures and nothing more? Why would he be that shallow just because they’re girls? And if this is for the audience, first of all, why, they can’t influence this outside of Keebo’s one vote, and second of all… does she not fucking realise that only about half of her audience is even going to be into girls, and only a proportion of those people should be shallow enough to be swayed by this? Female characters are more than just objects of fanservice and romantic fantasy! There are plenty of people who enjoy this franchise who aren’t here for that, you know! Tsumugi is a girl, she should have more respect for her own goddamn gender than this!

Really, if Tsumugi was properly trying to persuade Shuichi, Maki and Himiko, then the best (cruellest) move would be for her to suddenly start cosplaying Kaede, Tenko and Kaito and being all like “hey, if you stayed here I could be them for you!” (the cospox thing was dumb and there should be no reason she couldn’t do that). Which would of course make all three of them do an immediate huge revolted NOPE, a lot like the time Maki thought Exisal Kaito was Kokichi pretending to be him except worse – but it’d be an impactful moment, at least. Honestly, Tsumugi cosplaying the dead V3 characters here would make this whole part of the trial far more viscerally uncomfortable, like it’s clearly trying to be, than just seeing the DR1 and 2 characters be the face of the villain when they’re not a part of this actual story.

(Man, imagine her doing the part last time where she reminded Shuichi of Kaede and Kaito’s inspiring lines by actually cosplaying them and reciting those lines in their voices, that would be awful, I would hate it and love it at the same time. It’d hammer home the supposed idea that they were always just lies even more.)

Keebo:  “Despair won’t end this killing game! Only hope will!”

Keebo says this just before we get dragged into a Mass Panic Debate in which Keebo’s only available bullet is “Hope”. When the only weapon you have is hope, every problem’s got to be able to be solved with it, right? No, Keebo.

This Mass Panic Debate is the worst and the reason I equipped Librarian’s Glare at the beginning, because then all the loud voices get silenced automatically and all I have to focus on is firing. If you don’t hit every single statement’s worth of “despair” in one round, you have to do it all over again, and a bunch of them have loud voices getting in the way. It’s far, far more mechanically difficult than any other debate in the game, which is not at all deserved on a narrative level when what’s happening right now is such a ridiculous mess.

Story time: when I got to this Mass Panic Debate on my first time through, since I was watching not playing and therefore had a little break to let my thoughts flow without having to pay as much attention to what was happening… I was really upset. I had loved almost everything about this game up to this point, and I really wanted it to have a good ending worthy of the rest of it. But this was currently presenting itself as that ending, and this was just bad.

This is supposedly analogous to the part in DR1 where Makoto fired bullets of hope at all of his friends, and I liked that part. It was refreshing and inspiring after a whole game supposedly all about despair to realise that it was actually about hope as well. But here, first-time-me just felt vaguely insulted at the idea that I was supposed to like this as much as I did that. This is just a cheap imitation of that which completely misses the actual point.

The protagonist is supposed to be meaningfully inspiring his friends to not give up and to face the hostile outside world with the hope that things will work out okay. But this “hope” choice they’re being given here is arbitrarily cruel, and Keebo’s words are not even addressing his friends, let alone any of the actual problems that his friends are despairing over. He’s just shooting the “hope” at Tsumugi’s “despair” like this is some kind of good-versus-evil battle. This is exactly the kind of one-dimensional, meaningless hope the characters were filled with when they saw the Flashback Light in chapter 5 – empty platitudes that don’t even remotely address the actual reason for their despair and therefore don’t fix anything at all. And that reason for their despair right now isn’t just the thought of the outside world but also simply the notion that they’re not real, which was pretty compelling when it came up and first-time-me wanted them to get back to that and address that more and hated the fact that it’d apparently been completely forgotten like it didn’t matter.

Of course, I don’t hate this part nearly as much now, because this isn’t the real endpoint of this trial, and with that in mind, Keebo missing the point like this is very out-universely deliberate. This is showing the “battle between hope and despair” that the outside world apparently craves that is the reason they’ve been watching these killing games for fifty-three seasons. Shuichi is going to figure this out quite soon, and then things will get back on track with the characters we’ve actually grown to care about properly addressing the question of how real they are.

But I’m still not super happy with this. Keebo is so obviously failing at presenting any kind of actual hope or compelling story here that it’s a stretch to believe that a sensible in-universe audience would want this either. Shouldn’t they care about the characters they’ve been watching this whole time and be frustrated, like I was, when the story abruptly veers away from being about them into this empty nonsense? Shouldn’t they be calling bullshit on the arbitrary unfair sacrifices for the vote, especially after Tsumugi broke the rules and had no more right to even punish anyone at all? (That was literally supposed to be the point of trial 5, dammit! Kaito deserves better than this!) Heck, shouldn’t the characters be calling bullshit on the vote rather than accepting it? (I can let them off a bit more though, since they’re still mostly in despair and not quite thinking straight.)

This would work a lot better if it was still trying to be mostly about the characters, and Keebo was actually trying to inspire them with hope. Instead of shooting at Tsumugi’s despair, he should, like Makoto did, be shooting the hope at his friends and trying to reassure them that surely they’ll find a place in the outside world that’ll accept them, that surely whichever two of them survive will be able to overcome these last deaths as well and find happiness somehow. That would be a kind of hope that would be reasonably believable as making a satisfying if bittersweet ending. That way, it’d be a lot easier to believe that the audience wants this, and to therefore realise that this is why the killing game has gone on for so long and will still continue if they let this ending happen here.

The fact that this isn’t what happens when it easily could have been makes me wonder how much of this part’s one-dimensionality was deliberate, and how much is the out-universe writers not actually realising that the situation they’re presenting here isn’t “hope” in any meaningful or compelling way at all. My faith in them on this particular front is not very strong, I must admit.

“Keebo! Keebo!”

“Keebo’s on fire!”

“gooooo Keebo!”

The audience has been there in the background throughout all of this – probably as what Keebo’s hearing in his inner voice – but up until now they’ve just been saying “Hope” or “Despair”. As this debate finishes, they finally start saying something of more substance, most of them cheering Keebo on like so. It sure sounds like they care about him as a character, which is what you’d expect if they’d been experiencing this game through him as the protagonist. But they don’t; we’ll see that very clearly later. They only care about him representing their own voices and nothing else.

“i wanna see the color of shuichi’s blood <3”

Wow, fuck, geez, okay. That “fan” of Shuichi’s from before has gone from “somewhat realistic if rather creepy considering that he’s real” to “absolute sicko”. What the hell.

“Now this is Danganronpa.”

Apparently we really are supposed to believe that this kind of meaninglessness is what people have come to like from this show over the years. It so incredibly shouldn’t be, though. What about all the actual class trials before the endgame? The characters struggling with the pain of watching their friends die or realising that their friend killed someone? Isn’t that more compelling than just yelling about hope being better than despair? Apparently not to these idiots.

---

[Next post]

[overdrivels]

Self destruction and self sabotage seems to be Hanzo Shimada’s very own modus operandi. It’s not that he was not trustworthy—no, he is a man who could be given orders to and expected to complete them with professionalism and such efficiency it is hard to argue his place on the team regardless of how certain members felt about the arrangement—but his presence left many uneasy.

For all the orders and missions he completes, he still had a lot of learn about teamwork or at least entrusting his back to someone else. Genji chalks it up to being on the run while solo for ten years. Others are quick to blame his personality. One or two even think that it may just be a ploy of sorts (but those thoughts are never really voiced). There were several close calls of Hanzo nearly breaking someone's nose for coming too close unannounced or not communicating his position enough (leading to someone nearly shooting him) only strengthens people's unvoiced doubts. 

Regardless, it was decided by the powers that be (Winston) that the benefits outweigh the risks and still assigned Hanzo to group missions. 

Like now. 

Hanzo nearly chokes on his breath when he spots the blur from the corner of his eye. Too fast. Dangerous. He pulls hard on his bow string, spins sharply— 

The muscles on his shoulders spasm with the abruptness in which he forces himself to stop. His heart hammers in his throat and head, frantic with a visceral fear that he had not felt in a long time. It almost makes him want to vomit. He barely avoids letting loose an arrow straight into your helmet. 

Especially when you amble toward him, nonchalant in that pangolin hardlight suit of yours, hands together like the meek animal you represent, unaware of the danger you just were in, unaware you were just a hair away from death by his hands and if he had realized who you were a moment too late, you wouldn't even be standing or breathing or kneeling next to him or able to use your voice to ask:

"Are you all right, Hanzo?"

He slaps away your hand, barely aware of the fiery sting of his forearm. 

"Get away," he snarls between panicked gasps. 

Emotions make an assassin inefficient. An inefficient assassin is a liability. Liabilities need to be disposed. 

He barely notices the appraising look on your face, too focused on steering himself away from his weaknesses as a professional. 

"Excuse me."

So he could be forgiven for nearly smashing his elbow into your face when you grab him by the waist and hoist him over your shoulder. Hands scrambling, he seeks leverage to throw you from his position—he's done it before on bigger and stronger opponents—but the armor is smooth, the momentum too little, your grip a little too skillful, and the intent and motion too gentle. 

You begin to run and not a moment later, the sound of gunfire follows. Snapping out of his head for a moment, he shouts, “What are you doing?”

“Saving you. Watch your head.”

He ducks just in time to avoid getting hit in the head by a metal bar twisted out from it's structure. 

He could easily break your arms and choke you in at least thirty different ways, but you manhandle him like you don't care. 

“I could kill you," he hisses as menacingly as he can. It's not just to remind you but to remind himself, will his body into action. He does not need to be rescued or carried. This sort of thing is for damsels in distress, injured persons, or the dead, and he is certainly none of the above. 

“Yeah, I know. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, but just in case, I already have my will and power of attorney set up."

For once, Hanzo is completely dumbstruck, staring down at your profile. The blatant disregard for his threats seem to be almost on-par with some of the other agents who act like he isn't as dangerous as he truly is. But he never got a handle on you or your thoughts on having a brother killer on the team. Your reaction would be funny if you weren't both running for your lives, pursuers audibly behind you. 

Using what little leverage he has, Hanzo disposes of his useless thoughts, swings his bow over your head and focuses on what he can do best: killing. 

With you to absorb any attacks with your Pangolin suit, he only has to worry about accurate headshots from the enemies, and at this distance, they weren't going to accomplish that any time soon. Your scales were raised, able to deflect the full brunt of any stray bullets that came for his face. 

The suit is just an over glorified suit of sectored hardlight armor, scales that form out of everywhere and can fire like a porcupine. In truth, it's a mess. Something that would be worthy of being called "Junker quality". 

Regardless, it did its job long enough for you to carry him to relative safety and for him to take his shots, bringing the numbers down enough for Soldier: 76 and Mercy to take the remainder down from behind. A beautiful, but unexpected, pincer. 

Even you give a satisfied hum, hands together and head bowed much like one of those ass-kissers back at Shimada Castle.

And your words, "We did pretty nicely," cements that thought even further, and he snarls, yanking his head away from the view of the other two approaching to make his way back to the ship. With or without you. 

He expects this to be the last time he'll ever have to get manhandled or carried to 'safety'. 

So needless to say, Hanzo gets surprised again when you jump in front of him during another, more harrowing mission, the sound of pulse bullets smashing into your armor, but his recovery is quicker as his mind snaps the situation into clarity. 

He fires off three arrows right at you. By some trick, they twist around your helmet. Each make their mark, to his glee, and the rocking explosion resulting from the damaged reactor would’ve knocked him to the ground if you did not position yourself in front of him. 

Through the stream of smoke and dust, he can see the bodies of his fallen enemies, thrown to the ground like ragdolls. 

Mission accomplished. The reactor is destroyed. 

But his relief is short lived when you turn again. The entire backside of your armor has been burnt off, revealing the crackling technology beneath it. And his victory curdles into rage. 

"Why did you do that!?"

It allowed him to take that shot, yes, but he could have dodged and found another opportunity that was not fraught with risks and potential bullet holes through anyone. 

No, he's not grateful even if your timely appearance did end the mission quickly. 

You merely shrug at him, press some buttons to regenerate the bullet bitten scales of your suit. 

He refuses to thank you for it. Or say anything else for the matter. 

The next time you cover him—serving as his decoy more like, you're shot in the head. The force of it takes off your helmet. 

Parts of it shatters, crystalline shards of hard light fall around you, shimmering in light. If the situation were not so sure, he might have thought it beautiful. 

But as it is, the illusion is broken. You tuck and roll out of harm's way just as a rain of shrapnel comes down on you. Hanzo's arrows manage to fell them, allowing you to make your way to him without losing your head. 

A very small head.

The contrast between your bare face and the rest of you is almost humorous. You're so much smaller than your armor would imply. That's a given, of course. Reinhardt and Brigitte are much smaller outside of their suits, but both hold themselves proudly, their personalities matching and exceeding the size of the suits they both wear. 

But you're...you. Neither so strong in will or personality that it makes up for the gap between your current size and the size that the armor portrays. 

Hanzo has seen you meander through the halls, posture weak and hands together. If he didn't know any better, he'd think you some ghost from Overwatch past, tossed and lost in the stream of time. 

But you're here, beside him, watching out with a deceptively lazy gaze. He can't tell what's in your head or why you even care enough to stick by him. Is it because he's a liability? Or because he's a killer and you're keeping tabs on him? Or could it be that you are just waiting to stab him in the back? 

Hanzo dares another glance at you, still watching out over the distance, unaware or uncaring of his scrutiny. Empty. Your head must be empty. 

"They're coming. Let's go," you say suddenly. Snapping his attention back to the horizon, he sees that their targets have indeed regrouped and are making their way towards you both. He huffs, annoyed he didn't notice first and makes his way down with you hovering at his back. 

He's reluctant to say he's gotten used to you covering him. Hanzo barely reacts during another mission when an enemy appears at his back just as he lines up his perfect shot. He feels the ground vibrate, guns firing but never feels the impact, and the enemy hit the ground with a loud shout. Inelegant, but effective. He's not surprised when he turns around to see you behind him, your back to his like you trust him. 

It is a dangerous thing: trusting someone with your back. One could never know if that trust would ever be misplaced. Or if that trust will make him weak. A lonely night with his inner musings and a bottle helps him make up his mind. 

Nipping it in the bud, so to speak, he asks Winston to stop putting the two of you together on missions. To which he gets a very deadpan look that makes him just slightly regret asking. 

"Agent Hanzo, if there is an issue, I'd like it to be taken care of between the both of you or have it brought up now so we can handle it. With as few agents as there are, we cannot afford to be infighting or choosey about partners."

"...I understand," he says through gritted teeth. Hanzo leaves with nothing done except making it clear to Winston he has an issue with you that he isn't even brave enough to confront you about himself. 

It doesn't take him long to find you alone in the kitchen, slowly eating what seems to be a late lunch, the wrapper of some meal wrinkled on the table. 

"Cease what you're doing."

You look up at him incredulously, a fry hovering precariously off your fork halfway to your mouth. "Eating?"

"No." He wonders if you're being obtuse on purpose or if this is just how you are. "No. I ask you stop covering me on the field. It interferes with my work."

Slowly, the fork comes further down onto your plate as you squints harder and harder at him, measuring his request. A prickle straightens his spine and he refuses to take back his words or feel remotely bad for telling you to stop doing your job. 

You rub your face for a moment, the cheeriness and glow in your eyes wiped away, replaced by a look that Hanzo knows all too well: one that screams, ‘I need a drink’. 

"You know I can't stop protecting you."

Unconsciously, his upper lip curls. "I never asked for your protection."

"Genji did."

Time stops. 

It could have been a fraction of a second, a million years, he doesn't know. The words bounce in his brain, growing louder with each echo, the defeated tone twisting itself into mockery.

He’s a Shimada, not a coward. But the moment those two words left your mouth, he could not stop himself. In an instant, he has you by the collar, pressed against the wall. The clothes you wear becomes your noose as he curls his hands into them as if that'll be enough to silent you. 

“What. Did you just say.”

Even now, you look upon him dispassionately. Even when you struggle to give a voice to your explanation, face red—nearly purple, your demeanor is not shaken. “Gen..ji, asked-d me. 'Pro...tect Hanz..o-o. No matt-matter what he’s done. He’s...still my br..other. I forgave...h—'” 

You choke on your words when Hanzo slams you against the wall again. Twice, thrice, four times until he’s sure you’re not going to speak anymore of the accursed words he loathed to hear from anyone. 

It’s a lie.

A lie.

An insult.

Genji is making fun of him again. 

Touting that he’s better. 

He was always more recognized. 

Always had father’s attention. 

Always fawned over by their peers. 

Always watched by their elders. 

And now he wants to flaunt it again. 

That he’s survived death and he’s stronger and deems Hanzo so worthless that he requires protection. 

Protection from what. 

Hanzo was the one who received all the awards, the honors, the higher marks, killed the most, gotten the most targets, the envy of those who would consider themselves his peers, the right to inherit his father's position, the clan.

And yet— 

Yet…

With an animalistic yell, he slams you against the wall once more, a resounding crack covered up by his voice before he just drops you and flees the room, desperate to drown the renewed flames of his fury in alcohol. 

[cutepresea]

4-11 A Light That Pierces the Clouds: Erosion

Sorry again for the spam.

If you want to blacklist these, you can use either the tag #a light that pierces the clouds for just this event, or #xdu event scripts or #xdu scripts

Reminder that these are copied straight from XD Unlimited itself, so any grammatical weirdness, mistranslations, and/or mischaracterizations are not my doing.

Hibiki Tachibana: (My chest feels suffocated... It burns...)

Hibki Tachibana: (It hurts! Somebody help me...)

Hibiki Tachibana: (No... No one will come. No matter how close they get, they'll always leave in the end.)

Miku Kohinata: "Hibiki. Come on, Hibiki..."

Hibiki Tachibana: "...Huh?"

Miku Kohinata: "It's impressive that you're eating breakfast while sleeping, but keep it up and you'll be late for class."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Class? At Lydian? Why are you wearing that uniform?"

Miku Kohinata: "Are you still half asleep? We got to school together. Of course I'm wearing my uniform."

Miku Kohinata: "Here's your bag. I put in all your textbooks. We can run to class after you finish eating."

Miku Kohinata: "Are you done eating? Then let's go."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Huh?! Just... another dream?"

Hibki Tachibana: (She said she was here from a parallel world. Why have I been having  these dreams since meeting her?) [1]

Hibiki Tachibana: "...What does it matter? I'm always along, anyway."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Again... What is this? A stone? It's... metal?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "......"

Hibiki Tachibana: (It feels like there's been gradually more of these things in proportion to the pain in my chest.)

Hibiki Tachibana: "......"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "I can't believe there're so many Noise. I wonder if those three on the other side are all right."

Kirika Akatsuki: "We should be worried about ourselves first... Things are getting pretty rough."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Even so, we have to do this. Let's keep it up, Kiri-chan."

Kirika Akatsuki: "Of course. But if we could use X-Drive, we could clear out these Noise easily."

Tsubasa Kazanari: "No point in asking for what you can't have. We'll just have to do our best!"

Sakuya Fujitaka: "We've got more Noise signals in the vicinity!"

Aoi Tomosato: "Wielder vital signs are declining! If they carry on fighting any longer..."

Genjuro Kazanari: "Grr, fine then! We'll seal off the area and order the wielders to retreat."

Tsubasa Kazanari: "I refuse to retreat!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "Tsubasa?!"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "There's too many Noise. If we retreat now, who knows how much damage they'll do?"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "With Tachibana as she is and Maria's group in the parallel world, our job is hold this line to the death!"

Kirika Akatsuki: "Yeah... Maria's doing everything she can."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "We were entrusted with this world, so we'll see this through to the end!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "...Fine. But don't do anything stupid! We're sending out a rescue squad right now!"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "Well said, you two. Now... Let's do this!"

Kirika Akatsuki: "Haah... Haah... G-Got it..."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "...I can still fight!"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "That's right... Wring out whatever power's left in you!"

Kirika Akatsuki: "Haah... Haah... Haah... How's that?"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Did we defeat them all?"

Genjuro Kazanari: "All Noise signals in the vicinity have vanished."

Genjuro Kazanari: "That was a hard fought battle out there. Well done!"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "Understood. Returning to base immediately."

Genjuro Kazanari: "No, we've sent a helicopter to get you. Stand by."

Tsubasa Kazanari: "Roger that."

Kirika Akatsuki: "Standby? I can barely walk, let alone stand."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "I want to lay down here and sleep..."

Tsubasa Kazanari: (That huge swarm was like something from Solomon's Cane.)

Tsubasa Kazanari: "What's going on?"

Genjuro Kazanari: "A big welcome back to the three of you."

Elfnein: "I'm glad you're all safe."

Maria: "Never mind us. How are things going here?"

Chris Yukine: "Man... I could cut the tension here with a butter knife."

Miku Kohinata: "Tsubasa-san and the others aren't here..."

Genjuro Kazanari: "They were fighting Noise for a few days straight, which exhausted them. They're recuperating now."

Miku Kohinata: "Oh, no... Are they all right?!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "No need to worry. They aren't injured, just fatigued. They'll make a full recovery after a day of rest."

Miku Kohinata: "That's good to hear."

Chris Yukine: "Yikes. We came back at just the right time, then."

Maria: "Yeah, too close for my liking."

Miku Kohinata: "So, um... How's Hibiki doing?"

Elfnein: "She sometimes has fits and becomes very restless. When it gets really bad, we put her under sedatives."

Miku Kohinata: "Oh, no..."

Miku Kohinata: "I need to go check up on her!"

Maria: "There she goes... Let's leave those two alone for now."

Maria: "So, what's going on with the Gjallarhorn alert?"

Genjuro Kazanari: "It's still active. Actually, it seems to be getting worse."

Chris Yukine: "Getting worse? But we beat two of those Karma Noise! What's going on here?!"

Maria: "Considering the situation, it could be due to a threat even more deadly than the Karma Noise."

Chris Yukine: "Guh... Then it must be that big thing."

Genjuro Kazanari: "What big thing? What happened over there?"

Maria: "I'll explain. Have you heard of the complete relic, Goliath?"

Miku Kohinata: "Hibiki? She's still sleeping."

Miku Kohinata: (She looks so thin and pale... Even more so than before I went to the other side.)

Miku Kohinata: (Her hand... A hand that's joined so many others together...)

Miku Kohinata: "I will save you. So please, just hang on a little longer..."

Genjuro Kazanari: "The complete relic, Goliath. Something like that showed up?"

Chris Yukine: "You know about it?! Tell us in layman's terms!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "Sorry. This is the first I've heard of it."

Maria: "On the other side, they said that the U.S. entrusted them with it. Maybe their government is hiding it?"

Genjuro Kazanari: "It's not completely impossible, but I can't imagine they'd just reveal that information to us."

Chris Yukine: "Then it was all a waste of time..."

Elfnein: "Hold on. I think there is still a potential solution we can find from the information at our disposal."

Maria: "Elfnein?"

Elfnein: "It retreats when night falls, right? If so, how does Goliath differentiate between night and day?"

Chris Yukine: "What do you mean? It retreats when the sun goes down."

Elfnein: "Is it visually looking at the sun set?"

Maria: "You mean a change in the amount of light? I'm not sure if it has what we would call eyes."

Elfnein: "Yes, that is likely true. Which implies that its hours of hibernation and waking follow a fixed cycle."

Elfnein: "If it is determining night and day based on the amount of light, we might be able to trick it."

Maria: "That seems worth a shot."

Chris Yukine: "Sounds fun. So how do we prepare that kind of light?"

Genjuro Kazanari: "Ask Section 2 on the other side. They should be able to figure something out."

Maria: "Yeah. This just might work."

Chris Yukine: "All right! Then let's go back and mess up the big guy!"

Maria: "Wait. What about this side? We should at least wait until Tsubasa and the others fully heal."

Chris Yukine: "Oh, right..."

Genjuro Kazanari: "It'd be a big help if you wait here. Tsubasa and the others should wake up in a day or so."

Tsubasa Kazanari: "That won't be necessary..."

Maria: "Tsubasa?!"

Chris Yukine: "Are you sure you should be up?!"

Elfnein: "You must rest. Successive fights have caused your body fatigue and stress. You cannot recover this quickly."

Tsubasa Kazanari: "It's just fatigue. It's nothing compared to what Tachibana's going through."

Tsubasa Kazanari: "I will protect this world in her place."

Chris Yukine: "You may say that, but the others haven't woken up yet. As it stands--"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "No, they feel the same way, too. They're straining, but they're awake, and they're worried for Tachibana."

Tsubasa Kazanari: "If resolving the issues in the other world leads to Tachibana's recovery, then that's our top priority."

Maria: "Is she really looking that bad?"

Tsubasa: "Yes... I can't bear to look at her."

Elfnein: "Hibiki-san's fits are progressively becoming more frequent and intense."

Elfnein: "And her strength continues to weaken. If this continues, her life may be in danger."

Chris Yukine: "Are you serious?"

Maria: "I see now. We need to hurry back there."

Chris Yukine: "Yeah, you're right."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Hmph!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Raaaaaaagh!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Haah... Haah... Haah..."

Hibiki Tachibana: "This rumbling... Something's coming!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Guh..."

Hibiki Tachibana: "I don't know what the hell you are..."

Hibiki Tachibana: "But since you're here now... I'll tear you down, too!"

Aoi Tomosato: "Oh no! We're detecting a signal thought to be Goliath!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "What's going on?!"

Aoi Tomosato: "Gungnir's signal is on-site! Hibiki-chan... She's out there fighting alone!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "What?! She's mad! Where's Tsubasa?!"

Sakuya  Fujitaka: "She can't move due to the after-effects of the Superb Song."

Genjuro Kazanari: "Gah... Do as much as you can to support Hibiki-kun! Hurry!"

Sakuya Fujitaka: "U-Understood!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Guh! It's strong!"

Hibiki Tachibana: (It's way too powerful to fight head-on. If I take a clean hit, that'll probably be it for me.)

Hibiki Tachibana: (If only I had more power... more strength.)

Hibiki Tachibana: "Guh! Wh-What's going on? I feel... hot."

Hibiki Tachibana: (It's like my entire body's boiling... But!)

Hibiki Tachibana: "Hyaaaaah!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "I feel power flowing through me!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "I can fight now! I can beat it by myself!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Raaaaaaaagh! Guh... What?!"

Boy: "No! S-Somebody help me!"

Hibiki Tachibana: (He hasn't evacuated yet?! Why now?!)

Hibiki Tachibana: (Guh... I have to help him... No, I want to kill him...)

Hibiki Tachibana: "Huh? Wh-What was that?"

Hibiki Tachibana: (He's human, so I have to help him.) (Kill him! Slaughter the human!)

Hibiki Tachibana: "What... is this? Is there something inside me?"

Hibiki Tachibana: (It's like a vortex deep in my body... Spinning around and making me feel sick!)

Hibiki Tachibana: "Guh... Raaaaaaaagh!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Get away! Run if you don't want to die!"

Boy: "A-Aaaaaaaah!"

Hibiki Tachibana: (No... I don't want to kill him... What's going on with me?)

Hibiki Tachibana: (Was it... what that Black Noise did to me?)

Hibiki Tachibana: "Oh, no! Crap!"

Hibiki Tachibana; "Ah... Gah!"

Hibiki Tachibana: (I can't move. I've taken too much damage...)

Hibiki Tachibana: "......"

Hibiki Tachibana: (Is this the end for me?)

Hibiki Tachibana: "It's gone... Why?"

Notes:

[1] There's a double space between "having" and "these"

[mobius-prime]

123. Knuckles the Echidna #24

Dark Alliance (Part Three of Three): Primary Evil

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Jim Valentino Colors: Barry Grossman

This issue's intro quote thing is from Spectre, rallying the citizenry of Echidnaopolis on the eve of a Dark Legion takeover of the city. His exact sentiment isn't important -it's basically a rephrasing of the whole "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself" concept. What I find interesting, rather, is the very vague description given of when this occurred. We're not given a time frame at all. We know that the Legion has made more than one attempt to take over the city in the past, but it's not at all clear whether this occurred, say, back during Spectre's own tenure as Guardian, or if it was just before the events of KtE#9 when the Dark Legion attacked Echidnaopolis in the modern day, or what. It's not at all clear, and for that reason I find it bizarre, especially since you'd think someone like Spectre showing his edgy face in modern, mildly technophobic Echidnaopolis might raise a few eyebrows.

Anyway, onto the issue itself. Archimedes is often forgotten and neglected as a character in a lot of these more action-packed later issues, now that he's not solely focused on training Knuckles anymore, but it turns out that after Knuckles and Julie-Su were captured by Xenin, he went straight to Locke and told him what happened. Spectre, the only other member of the Brotherhood not in Haven when it was taken over, arrives in the Chaos Chamber to demand Locke's help in retaking it.

Despite Locke's reluctance, Spectre's sheer edginess what with the literal cloud of mist always following him everywhere wins out, and Archimedes poofs them to the basement level of Haven so they can have the element of surprise in attacking. Meanwhile, in the Legion's current hideout within the city, Knuckles continues to trash talk Dimitri, even as Dimitri tries to insist that he's merely restoring echidna society to the way it once was and the way it should be. Really, dude, you think you're gonna convince Knuckles with your villain schtick? He's defiant to literally everyone who tries to tell him what to do, whether they're strangers, best friends, or his own flesh and blood. You're not gonna have much luck there. We hop over to Remington, who's been taken back to Pravda's office so that Benedict can lay out his own plot.

Ah, yes, this old trick. Remington retorts that Benedict doesn't even know yet if he'll be elected, to which Benedict responds that they've gone and installed fibre-optic systems in every echidna home allowing them to vote in mere days rather than the months it would usually take for an election to happen, and that they have control over the system to influence the results of the election to ensure his win. While the idea of in-home direct democracy does sound pretty sweet, how the hell did you go about installing this in every single echidna household so quickly considering it's been like, half a day since your rally? Remington, of course, is an upstanding individual (I actually do find him genuinely likable as a character) and tries to insist he won't go along with the plan regardless, to which Benedict decides to try to blackmail him by threatening to spill any secrets from his past that they find. While this is going on, we head back to the Legion's medical room, where Dimitri and his team of scientists are getting ready to put Knuckles under…

He intends to study his physiology while he's unconscious to figure out why he seems so powerful, and perhaps then use this power to restore his own emerald-enhanced abilities lost when Mammoth Mogul sucked them out of him. Ah, Dimitri, trying to pretend he isn't a selfish bastard as always, and failing utterly. While this is going on, Xenin finds his entertainment in taunting General Stryker and Julie-Su, still hanging upside down in their pod-things, and Locke and Spectre make their way through the halls of Haven, taking out stray soldiers on their way to their main objective. Back in Pravda's office, Remington, despite Benedict's threats, continues to refuse to support his candidacy, and Benedict becomes furious, shoving the brainwashed Pravda at him and stomping out of the room. Remington gently lowers the unresponsive, blank-faced former High Councilor to the floor and calls for someone to get him medical attention, then races after Benedict, hoping to catch him before he can get away. He's already found himself a taxi, but luckily for Remington, an old acquaintance is waiting for his own fare nearby…

Ah, Harry, good to see you again! Back in the medbay, Dimitri and his scientists are amazed to find that Knuckles, through entirely natural biological processes, seems to possess power equivalent to a Chaos Emerald. Dimitri is shocked, as after all he only managed to gain his own powers through the Chaos Syphon mishap centuries ago, and wonders if Knuckles was actually bioengineered to have this power - but before he can wonder much further, alarms start screeching within the room.

Looks like you guys done messed up plugging Knuckles in. Apparently, the rate of radiation discharge coming from Knuckles is so strong he's dangerously close to rendering the room uninhabitable. The technician operating gives Dimitri a choice - either he issues the order for evacuation, or he kills Knuckles to eliminate the problem. Meanwhile in the taxi, Harry stops driving abruptly, and when Remington yells at him he says that the car they're following has headed into the headquarters of the Technology Now party, AKA the Dark Legion's territory. Remington orders him to drive around back so he can attempt to infiltrate, deciding not to call for backup. Within Haven, Moritori Rex and the Kommissar are discussing Haven's benefits as a base for the Legion, when the lights abruptly go out and they lose contact with their main facility. They go to investigate, with Moritori using his visor to see in infrared, but a sudden flash of light blinds him.

I suppose Locke and Spectre are unaffected by the knockout gas because they're super powerful Guardians or something? Also keep in mind that again, Spectre was Tobor's son, and after the revelation a few issues ago he's essentially come to realize that the man he thought was his father all along was actually an imposter, and he never knew his real father. No wonder he's so determined to retake Haven at any cost. With Moritori not even being a real Guardian or receiving any of the proper training, it's amazing Spectre learned his duties properly and the line of the Brotherhood continued successfully at all.

As conditions deteriorate in the Legion's medbay, Dimitri, unwilling to give up on studying Knuckles yet, gives the order to retreat, and Xenin happily leaves Julie-Su and Stryker hanging where they are, not bothered with rescuing them. Benedict, running back into the facility, is alarmed by the chaos he's returned to, and as a sudden electromagnetic pulse sweeps through the facility…

Okay, I take it back, my line from two issues ago. This is the most disturbing page in the comic so far. The guy just melts, dude. It's like Kenders looked at the scene from the first Terminator movie where the T-800's flesh burns off in the truck explosion and was like "Nah, this isn't freaky enough. Let's turn it up a notch!" This isn't to say I disapprove, really. I just wonder how many young nightmares this inspired. Remington and Harry run past the nonfunctional endoskeleton with bits of melted flesh around it, and find Julie-Su and Stryker, releasing them from captivity. All the Legionnaires around the facility have dropped to the floor in shock, as the energy pulse has fried their cybernetics. While Harry is left to call the police headquarters for backup in cleaning up the mess, Remington runs through the halls and finds the medbay, with Knuckles still inside.

Dimitri, of course, has escaped in a private shuttle hidden within the facility, and gives us a final narration of the events after the chaos. He intends to rescue in the future any Legionnaires who survived the events within both bases, and with Benedict having won the city's election for High Councilor after all, Dimitri already has a replacement in mind given that Benedict has, well, fallen apart a little too literally. Apparently the power surge also took out Pravda's neural implants, and now he's a mindless vegetable, which is honestly quite a grim fate for him. No happy endings for Mr. Kidnapped From His Own Home in Front of His Wife, here. Dimitri, however, doesn't consider this event quite a loss, as now that he's aware of Knuckles' power potential, he's more determined than ever to gain this power for himself…

[genderfreezone]

Do you like the Evil Within 2?

Yeah! Certainly not as much as the first one (i was not immune to being sad they left out fan favorites Jojo and Ruvik's Cube)

The rest of this post is me rambling about things i didnt like about the game, and then things i did like (most of my issues are how they treat the female characters tbh)

Its missing kind of the action-noir-gone-horrifically-wrong feel of the first game. The scare factor also suffers bc our player character has been through this before, hes a veteran at dealing with this crazy shit, it doesnt phase him anymore and by extension it doesnt phase the player. They really like tripled down on the Evil Corporation thing and both the intrigue and horror suffer for it.

This game did not drink its respect women juice (the first one didnt really either, case in point: Everything About Kidman) Sebastian is surrounded by 5+ female characters and only 2 of them survive (and one of them is his 7 year old daughter hes spent the whole game trying to rescue... and yet they never bothered to give her any kind of characterization or agency. A highly empathetic and supernaturally powerful little girl in a monster-infested hellscape?? HELLO???? Lily really had the potential to be the most interesting, sympathetic, and complex character--especially as she slowly lost her innocence--in the WHOLE GAME, but she was just sort of relegated to Plot Device McGuffin) The rest of the female supporting cast are killed off for Sebastian's Man Pain. In fact, THIS ENTIRE GAME IS CENTERED AROUND SEBASTIAN'S MAN PAIN. Torrez is a walking stereotype, shes literally just Vasquez from Aliens. Hoffman was the most likeable and believeable, except when it Turns Out She Was In Love With Liam Or Whatever (psst, guess what, i dont care. Also O'neal was kind of a dick anyway? I dont care x2)

And you know who i SUPER dont care about? Bland-White-Bread-And-Mayo-Sandwich Myra. Where's the no-nonsense firecracker of a police lieutenant Sebastian married? Not here, thats for sure. Her entire personality is "mother" and "worries about stressed-out husband". We got more characterization of Myra in seb's jornals from the first game, where she never even made a physical appearance! Horror media does this SO MUCH, women are either A. Sexy Lamp B. Hurts Men (Sexily) C. Mother or D. Innocent Virgin. It sucks. Do better.

The story lacked the "digging up old buried memories" and "theres more to this than meets the eye" of the first game. It felt too...... Straightforward. Everyone told Sebastian the truth. EVERYTHING WAS EXACTLY WHAT IT SEEMED. It all felt too simple, too easy, like there SHOULDVE been something else beneath the surface. And yet there wasnt. (I watched markipliers playthrough and i loved his theory that Kidman was actually Lily. It had such potential. Kidman's entire resume for the police station was fabricated, who's to say the rest of her past wasnt fabricated as well? It would retcon a lot of stuff and like 80% of her backstory from the DLC, but you know games like this arent above retconning important shit, and at least it wouldve been sacrificed for something with actual intrigue. Maybe it wouldnt even retcon anything! Consider: tiny Lily is taken by Evil Corporation and dropped off in a non-nurturing environment that would lead her to become the kind of person who would willingly join & work for an organization like Mobius. At least wouldve been a nice excuse for why Kidman and Lilys face models looked so similar... other than... yknow.... "WomEN ARe hArD tO DRaWwwwwee")

Okay okay ive been ranting for long enough. It probably makes it sound like i kinda hate this game, but i dont! It certainly doesnt hold the same place in my heart as the first one (which i still have very glaring issues with lmao Kidman deserved WAAAAAAY better), but i do like it! It brings back salty, grizzled, tsundere Sebastian Castinellos. It brings back spooky monsters that kill you dead. It brings back having a fun theatrical over-the-top villain who takes himself a litte too seriously.

I love Stefano. Probably not in the way some other fans do, but i love him as a ridiculous theatrical over-the-top villain. He sucks! And i love that he sucks! I love him BECAUSE he sucks! Hes terrible and exaggerated and completely up his own ass and ITS GREAT. He isnt as ACTUALLY THREATENING as Ruvik was (even in his bad assassin's creed cosplay. I could go on and on and on about why Ruvik is simultaneously a ridiculous AND frightening antagonist and how much i love it but uh..... maybe later) but hes such a FUN villain! Hes the kind of pretentious art snob shitheel i cannot STAND irl, but in this game i LOVE to HATE him. Hes just SO over-the-top you kinda wonder if he actually subscribes to the pretentiousness he spouts, or if hes just being Exceptionally Extra.

The other villains? Theodore was.... forgettable. His monsters were forgettable. (Its like how i completely forgot that Frank Manera was a character in Whistleblower for like... 5 years lmao i guess this game also kinda followed that "having multiple named/characterized antagonists in one game" thing that Outlast did) Myra, i just didnt care. Her final design was kinda cool, i liked the red clusters of insect eyes. Her monsters werent really gross enough to be memorable. The only reson theyre gross at all is bc they kinda look like theyre made of semen. (I checked the wiki and apparently Myra's white goo is "psychoplasm" and her monsters lost 99% of their gross factor. I just dont care.) The Administrator literally just looked like a 3D human model of Maxwell from dont starve, and i have to laugh every time i see him. Hes not terribly threatening, all he does is threaten characters to work faster and doesnt actually follow through on those threats. He doesnt even make fun threats like HABIT or anything. He thinks hes so powerful and ominous that his mere presence will frighten the player but hes just kinda all bark and no bite. Hes The Big Bad Company Man so you know hes gonna get whats coming to him, and you know Kidmans gonna be the one to do it to him, so hes not even that much of a threat. Hes whatever.

Stefano definitely got all of the coolest monsters. Many Arms Buzzsaw Lady was terrifying and i love her. And OBSCURA was just *Chef's Kiss* Anima was cool, she kinda looked like a mix of Laura and Samara. The Harbingers were neat, but really only bc ive got a thing for gas masks. The rest of the monsters werent really unique or weighty/threatening enough to be memorable. Now the first game is a fucking TREASURE TROVE of unique monsters *muah* you got Sadist, Sentinel, Keeper, Amalgam, Heresy, Laura, Shigyo, the Twins, Alter Egos, and im probably forgetting some!! But holy FUCK!!!!! And if we're includong the DLC?? MOTHER FUCKING SHADE. SPOTLIGHT LADY. LIGHT WOMAN.  SEXY LEGS.  Whatever you call her, i fucking love her. Her design is so simple. Helmet. Sheet. Legs. Her voice? Unnerving as hell. Love it. (Also i just personally love the diving helmet. Also like you know how a lot of games have a spotlight mechanic where you have to avoid the light and if it lands on you, you're fucked? LET'S MAKE AN ENTIRE MONSTER OUT OF THAT. She's PERFECT.) Oh and also those weird crawling exploding dudes. They made gross sounds and it was great. (Tbh Keepers still probably my favorite, if only for horny reasons)

TATIANA HOW HAVE I NOT FUCKING TALKED ABOUT TATIANA. Shes like the ONE female character that i fucking LOVE in the sequel. I love how they finally gave her a personality, and that personality is literally just "fuck you, Sebastian" Oh GOD its great shes SO FUNNY. I just.... god i love Tatiana lmao. I love how she makes you kinda uncomfortable too, like she knows something, but she wont tell you bc youre stupid. I didn't like the kind of "all-knowing guide" thing they did to try and make her creepy (like she's a "guide" but then also turns around and is like "no i wont tell you what you need to know bc you """have to discover it on your own""" or whatever") it serves no purpose since she never gave you any actual information, and it didn't succeed in making her creepier, all it did was frustrate me. She was at her creepiest when she IMPLIED she was doing something behind the scenes or knew something you didn't know and then didn't elaborate (not REFUSING to elaborate, just... stopping talking and leaving the statement to hang in the air, like the "getting her nails done" and "its been a long time, detective" and the "now what makes you say that" from the first game) and she was at her funniest when she was interacting with Sebastian from the sidelines, her snide little comments and sarcastic clapping cracked me the fuck up. Tatiana not treating Sebastian seriously was a fantastic touch for a game that otherwise would probably take itself so seriously it would double back around to being silly. Without Tatiana, it would've been just another male-centric gun-toting "survival horror" game, and for the most part, it was just that. She was definitely a much-needed source of slightly derisive comedy and a definite high-point for me, even if they didn't so a great job of making her creepy or fulfilling her "purpose."

Oh I also really love the COLORS in TEW2. The first game fell into the trap of having the colors be totally washed out that a lot of horror stuff does, but it also kind of worked for it. Especially with the color pallette of our main villain and how the whole thing was His World. The saturation of the colors in the second game is a breath of fresh air and gorgeous to look at, and you can even see the color motifs of the game change with each new villain: the game starts out with Stephano has lots of blues and purples and dark reds, when Theodore takes over we get bright orange and yellow contrasted with black and brown, and in the climax with Myra the game goes back to having washed out colors and white (and with her villain design? Let's face it: they were kinda just trying to do Ruvik again) We did get portions that were still kind of wahed out whites and greens and greys, but it wasnt the ENTIRE game, even the big blood-and-brains splatterhouse sections of the first game kinda had their colors weirdly muted for that "Horror Aethetic."

In conclusion, i do like the evil within 2, but i also had a lot of problems with it. And i complain about these problems because i like the game and know it couldve done better, tried harder, and been a LOT more than it was (the wasted character potential is my real overarching pet peeve, probably becuase i loved the characters in the first game, and character development is kind of my whole jam) . But all in all, it was still a fun monster-zombie romp with at least one entertaining villain and fun-to-look-at designs and environments. It wasn't character or horror or even REALLY story driven in the way I know it COULDVE been, but i still had a fun time and enjoyed myself.

[mas-ai]

UTAPRI DISNEYLAND HEADCANONS!

Pardon me while I indulge myself, unload my mind and project.

Warnings ahead: Extremely long post, OOC, self-indulgence, shipping mentions, rare pairs (all characters aged up but nothing nsfw is here), Disneyland ‘spoilers’ , mentions of mental illness/causes of mention illness (Reiji, Ichinose, Aine, etc), not a dark post though, fluff, 

Ai:

 Mom mode activated

 Everyone has specific, custom glowsticks so you can find everyone at night no problem

 Also everyone has to wear GPS bracelets that allow Ai to track them in case anyone gets lost

 He downloaded a mental map of the parks 

 Literally never lost, knows where everything is and the fastest way to get there

 Faster than the Disneyland app by 73.2% (ok for real though I had almost no issues with it when i was there??)

 He knows all of the secrets

 All of them

 Blurts out a bunch of random trivia and info he found while researching (which makes him fun to be with!!)

 Then asks why it's important and has to have it explained to him

 Snacks and water every 2 hours

Natsuki:

 The actual child

 Ai insisted on tethering him to a harness+leash after the aquarium fiasco

 Also must have someone keeping an eye on him at all times

 Outprincesses the Princesses

 where's tinkerbell

 more of a fairy than tinkerbell

 goes to bibbidi bobbidi boutique and gets pixie dust (glitter) sprinkled in his hair)

 the BEST character interactions

 insists on eating all the food so he can remake everything when he gets back

 somehow finds his way into the kitchens and poor syo is a victim

 Poses everyone before all the photos

 Must go on the fastest/scariest rides 6 times in a row

 Always has hands up and is laughing in every ride photo

The cutest, most magical expressions in all their pictures

Masato:

 Brought the snacks and water

 Helps Ai give them out on schedule

 Also has bandaids, bug spray, sunscreen, hats, sweaters, spare shoe inserts, spare clothes

 Has 2 bags in bag check and carries around an oversized backpack all day

 LOTS OF BUG SPRAY

 "masato there's not really a lot of bugs here"

 Insists everyone calls the minute that they're done rides if they separate

 Also insists on breaks midday

 Ai agrees

 Really interested in seeing all the shows, parades, etc and making this a learning experience

 Also wants to go on as many tours as possible

 Buys everything for Mai!!!

Video calls with Mai so she can see!!

 Holds Ai's hand during fireworks

Syo:

 we'RE noT taKinG breAkS

 he has this D O W N

 he trained for this

 he made everyone else train for this

 This boy is getting everything done.  Everything.

 Fainted when he realized how much there was to do

 Probably asked for Ai's help to make a schedule so they could get everything done

 Is the first to deviate from the schedule the minute they're through the gates

 Designated FastPass runner

 Coordinated everybody else's outfits

 "do you think we can get on a parade float"

 Boardwalk games!! He wins everything!!

reluctant to leave at mid-day squad

later really glad they left mid-day and is happy to sit by the pool squad

Otoya:

 Absolutely the most excited for the trip until they got there

 Is now overwhelmed

 Really interested in the music

 Seriously he pays attention to everything in the background and hums it the entire time

 He's so inspired for new songs now

 Designated photographer

 All his photos are blurry

CARS LAND!!!!!

 Winds up just running for FastPasses with Syo instead

 (i got kinda shippy with syo/otoya on ideas but ill resist)

Ichinose:

 Pulled more allnighters than necessary (sometimes with Ren) to plan and book everything but nobody knows how much they put into it

 Original daily routines, flights, reservations, packing lists, everything was started by him and Ren (until Ren started to favor sleep after two weeks)

 At first it’s all super simple but then he starts overcomplicating it and when he's in the thick of it he can't stop and has to solve every potential problem

 (no problems wind up happening)

 Reiji discovers him one night and shuts it down (and then took over/shifted some stuff to Ai who would be better suited)

 He and Masato were then in charge of buying items for the trip but Masato started overplanning/over worrying so he took over

 Park bags? Got them. Ponchos? Thank him. Waterproof phone protectors? You got it. Chargers? Lots! Trading pins? Preordered online

 Also really thinks hard about everybody's individual needs and concerns and is worried about everyone not having the best time ever

 This boy is S O  F T 

 He was also in charge of meal plans (until they got to the park and Ranmaru started hearing about all the food and took over)

 This boy has not slept since they first decided they were going and hasn't done a single thing he wanted to do the entire time they're there

 So crowds are a thing and he's now crashing

 Reiji pulls him aside and they wander off to get some drinks and probably to Tom Sawyer's Island (very quiet! beautiful nature views!) and just... be in Disneyland

 Really deep conversations while looking into New Orleans!

They ride the Mark Twain together and drive the boat too!!

 Reiji takes him through all the shops on Main Street and they spend hours in the art gallery

 Also they sit on the disneyland railroad and just go around the park 400 times? (he likes the parts in Splash Mountain, also the show scenes)

 He and Reiji get caught in one of the 'bandit' shows where their train is 'robbed'. He's annoyed at first but has fun.

 Is now just the designated ticket/pass/autograph book holder. Probably safely storing everyone's passports in his luggage too.

Camus:

 Does not appear interested in this adventure. At all.

 Until one night he orders Cecil awake at 3AM to do a bunch of research for him and does not say why

 Nobody finds out until the day of, but he's upgraded EVERYTHING. First class jet, upgraded rooms, premium viewing for shows, etc

 Probably managed to book an entire section of the park (or even an entire park) for the group

 Also he just wanted information on every treat in the area

 He wants to try EVERYTHING

 He knows where all the best sweets are (don’t be fooled a lot of the food/treats are d i s g u s t i n g) and all the specials for the season

 Contacted ahead of time to have special treats made for each of them that represent them and are then delivered during their dinner as a surprise

 Do it right or not at all

 Don't half-ass things

 This means nothing. I care about none of you

 "peasants"

 he's smiling

reluctant to leave at mid-day squad

later really glad they left mid-day and is happy to sit by the pool

Cecil:

 "whats that"

 O H

 NOW HE'S VERY EXCITED

 Marathoned every movie  EVERY movie for months with everyone

 TAKE THIS BOY TO THE PARADES

 ALSO ON THE TEACUPS

 ALSO MUSICAL CHAIRS WITH ALICE AND HATTER

 thinks the princesses are actually princesses

 charms them all

 Was not amused at waking up so early and obeying Camus but learned a lot and is surprisingly well-versed in the park

 Knows where everything is and what everyone is doing at every point in time

 "has anyone seen x it's been 4 hours" yes he knows where they are

 Also Ai would wake up halfway through his planning sessions and stumble across Cecil and they'd wind up planning together

Really cute early morning planning sessions before work

Cecil falls asleep on Ai’s shoulder

 This is when he finds out about Ai

 He changes into full-on rainsuit for water rides 'for ai's sake' and makes ai do it too (ai is confused)

 He and Ai huddle together under an extremely oversized raincoat (or refuse to get on water rides altogether)

 But if they're getting splashed he dramatically sacrifices himself for Ai

reluctant to leave at mid-day squad

later really glad they left mid-day and is happy to sit by the pool nap squad

So inspired by all the lights and costumes

STARISH is now getting led costumes

Also quick-change costumes (tear-away to reveal a second outfit!)

Skipping/running EVERYWHERE

singing the entire time

Ren:

 This boy takes forever to get ready in the morning

But he’s one of the first awake and helps Ai & Masato to parent everyone out of bed

There’s an ongoing joke that the three of them are married

Maybe they are

Did so much more for this trip than anyone realizes

Suggests they split off several times during the day so everybody can enjoy what they want to

Probably winds up taking over photos after seeing Otoya's

 They're much better

 Insists on hiring professional photographer though

 Don't tell anybody but he pulled all-nighters to get things planned out with Ichinose

 Coralls everybody in for the afternoon breaks

 “Time to relax in the pool” initiation squad

“yes you have to shower before we go back”

really glad they left mid-day and is happy to sit by the pool squad

Reiji:

 "we're riding indiana jones ten times in a row kids" take me with you

 haw yee

 This boy has the most flamboyant hats and you can spot him from a mile away

the worst for being tacky

But also at the same time really charming and cute somehow?? 

But don’t tell him!

 Doesn't voice anything he wants to do, wants everyone else to have the best time.

 Insists on surprise kiss pictures with everyone

 Scrapbooks everything at the end of the trip because it was some of the best memories he had with everyone

he probably cries over the pictures because they mean a lot to him

 Ai finds out about the scrapbook and helps out

Is surprised for the following Christmas when everyone pulled together to make matching sweaters & ornaments for the whole group for a group picture for Reiji’s sake

It’s now a tradition

It’s his favourite tradition

Ranmaru:

 Here for the food

 Or so he thinks

 Winds up liking the rides a lot though

 Probably the one everyone hangs onto when they're scared

 super protective of ai on rides

 throws himself over ai on several occasions to prevent him from getting wet

 this is a good boy. ty for protecting the precious robot

 Last to wake up and first to head home but b o y does he have the most fun

 hell to pay the one day masato forgot to pack a banana

masato still feels bad

 (reiji to the rescue to prevent meltdown though)

unintentional cat naps with cecil during the mid-day breaks

either they’re cuddling

or cecil wanted to watch a movie and they wound up falling asleep while ranmaru was playing with cecil’s hair

he didn’t realize he swears

he just missed relaxing with a cat

cecil says nothing

Bonus!

Aine:

 at the bottom of the finding nemo ride

 bye

[jj-lives]

Unperfect Roommates - excerpt Waterfall - bmblb (little bit WR)

“We're here!” Ruby yells dashing off into the trees, leaving her ever present trail of rose petals behind for everyone to follow.

Weiss sighs loudly before picking up her pace. She's not about to run through the forest but you can tell she doesn't like Ruby being too far away. Their relationship is new to both of them and they’re still trying to figure out each others needs. It's been a constant battle of Weiss being very clingy and Ruby excitedly forgetting about her girlfriend’s need for reassurance.

“She's just eager to get there.” Weiss looks back over her shoulder at your voice. She seems slightly embarrassed that you've noticed her exasperation towards Ruby. You can sympathize with her, not having many friends yourself, when you are in the mood for company and no one is around or busy with other things- it sucks to feel like you've been forgotten.

“I know, it’s just…” her feet pause on the path allowing you to catch up. “I mean, she knows her semblance can carry more than just her. If she’s in such a hurry to get there than why not bring me along?” In a rare moment of wanting to console Weiss you reach out and place a comforting hand on her back. Pulling her along so her feet start moving you hold her in a half embrace. Weiss takes a minute to relax, knowing her anger at Ruby would only lead to an argument none of you want. Ruby didn't charge ahead maliciously. She hadn't forgotten Weiss behind on purpose after all. “It’s just, I kind of wanted her beside me when we got there. She's said how beautiful it is and how it's her favourite spot on Patch. I just wanted her beside me when I first experience it.”  She growls slightly under her breath. “That makes me pathetic doesn't it?”

“No i-“

“Grab her hand next time.” Yang cuts you off.  Weiss flinches and you can’t blame her, Ruby’s elder sister has been so silent during your hike you actually forgot she was there for a moment.

“Excuse me?” Weiss questions.

“Next time she’s all hopping on the balls of her feet, grab her hand.” Yang shrugs as she comes up on Weiss’ other side.  “She’ll have no choice but to drag you with her.”

“I don’t think that’s the point.” You speak up In Weiss’ defense.

“Then what is the point?” Yang eyes you curiously.  “I thought the point was Weiss wanted to be by Ruby’s side when we got there.  That would accomplish that goal.”

“Ruby shouldn’t be running off leaving Weiss behind in the first place.  That’s the issue.”

“Look, my little sister is easily excitable, she doesn’t always think every painfully minute detail through. So-“

“You’re saying Weiss is a minute detail?” You accuse heatedly.

Yang groans. “That is not what I’m saying. I’m ju-“

“Sounds like it to me.”

Yang glares at you, and you glare right back.  She had no right stepping into your and Weiss’ conversation.  She shouldn’t even be on this trip with you in the first place, and you would appreciate it if she would continue to remain as silent as she previously had been. Weiss side eyes you and Yang before carefully stepping forward, obviously not comfortable being the barrier keeping you both apart.  Yang turns fully to face you and folds her arms across her chest.  

“If you would let me finish a damn sentence,” she pauses, waiting for your rebuttal. You stay silent this time. “I’m just saying Ruby doesn’t think the way you two do.  She acts and then thinks of the consequences later. She’s a pretty good strategist on the battlefield, but she’s shit when it comes to personal interactions.”  

“That’s no excuse.”  You argue.  You know Ruby can be awkward meeting new people, but this isn’t the same thing.  Weiss and Ruby are dating now and Ruby has to start making some concessions, she has to put some effort into this relationship.

“When she met you, when she met Weiss, she made a positive impression? You and Weiss were her friends right away?” Yang’s eyes are still heated but her voice has lost some of it’s bite.

A scoff is torn from your throat and you cant help your eyes rolling back in your head. “No, we were not.”  You remember the arguments Ruby and Weiss used to have about leadership and responsibilities, the way you’d held a soft spot for Ruby’s romanticized view of the world while you secretly thought she was foolishly naive.  You’d kept your distance from Weiss because of her prejudices of the Faunus and you’d kept Ruby at arms reach, no closer because her skewed view of the world, you thought, would bring your team down. You secretly thought Ruby was going to bring you down and you hate that Yang makes you remember that.  It’s not something you’ve ever told any of your teammates and it’s something that you’ve tried not to think about in years. It is simply untrue.  Ruby’s outlook was strength.  It was a view in which everyone should try to see the world in.  Seeing the world through Ruby’s eyes, though occurrences were few and far between, had awed Blake. More people should have the determination and trust and faith in the world that Ruby had.  

“Because my little sister cannot figure out how to best portray herself, be it excitement, sadness, anxiety, or any other strong emotion.  The only emotion she even has a hold over is her anger.” Yang chuckles. “Guess she got that gene instead of me. She’s awkward, and that isn’t a part of Ruby that is just going to disappear because Weiss and her are suddenly dating. It’s a part of her personality that has people making snap decisions about her, and has Ruby misinterpret others reactions to her.”

“It’s not the same thing.  Weiss isn’t a stranger, she knows Ruby and Ruby knows her.  This isn’t an awkward first introduction.”

“Isn’t it?”  

“What?”

“This is as new to Ruby as her first day of Beacon was.  Ruby’s never had a girlfriend before.” Yang throws her hands above her head and turns to make her way up the path once more, trying to catch up to Weiss.  “Heck, she’s never had a relationship of any kind before.  You’re right though,” she looked over her shoulder at you, her lavender eyes show concern. “This isn’t like meeting potential new friends, this is much more awkward for my baby sister, because she has more to lose.”

“But she should-” you start, jogging to take up a position beside Yang.

“She should stop being herself and be someone you and Weiss want her to be?” Yang questions and you can see a sharp, cutting edge to the way she’s looking at you. You’d seen anger, frustration, teasing, happiness, concern all etched within Yang’s eyes at one point or another, but this look is new.  It’s raw and powerful.  Yang blinks and suddenly the look is gone. “Ruby is just reverting back to what she normally does on her own.  I can’t count how many times she’s left me behind at that exact spot back there.” A gloved hand lifts to indicate the path behind you.  

“If you want to get through to the Rose-Xiao Long girls you have to make them see, before they will learn.” Yang chuckles. “Ruby won’t see it any other way without it being obviously pointed out to her.  So yes, next time,” she claps her hand on Weiss shoulder as they catch up to her finally. “Grab her hand and make her see you.”

Weiss stops on the path as a rumble reverberates through the ground beneath your feet.  When you stop to look back at her questiongly she’s sporting an almost defiant expression.  You open your mouth to ask her what’s wrong when Yang’s hand gently grasps your wrist and pulls you forward.  You let yourself be pulled for a few strides before dislodging Yang’s hold on you.  Thinking Weiss needs some space you continue forward, following Yang until you make it around a bend in the trees and suddenly your face is being splattered with a fine mist.  

The rumbling has become a roar and and you quickly find its source.  Water from a stream tumbles down over the side of a cliff in front of you.  The noise being created as the heavy liquid crashes into the rocks below.  You’ve seen many beautiful scenes in your travels, but this one would definitely rank pretty high on your list of top ten.  

“I told you!” Ruby squeals, suddenly at your side. “Where’s Weiss?” She inquiries quickly realizing she’s missing.  You point towards the path and Ruby takes off with another flurry of rose petals.  

“Let’s go.” Tearing your eyes away from the white mist floating up into the sky you see Yang motioning for you to follow her.  You watch as she approaches the cliff and starts climbing.  She makes it halfway up before she looks back to make sure you’re following.  Hanging from one arm she sees you haven’t taken a single step in her direction.  “Come on, don’t tell me a little cliff has Kitten scared.”  You glare but cross your arms, refusing to move. “I promise if you get stuck up a tree or something I’ll come rescue you.”

“I’m not scared and I doubt I’ll ever need you to rescue me, least of all when I’m in a tree.”

“Meh,” Yang shrugs, reaching up to continue her climb.  “Guess the term scaredy-cat is around for a reason.”

You’ve had about enough of her cat references, but she’s challenged you and you curse your competitive nature as you sprint forward towards the sheer rock wall.  You spring up onto a large boulder at its base and jump, catching your foot into a deep crevice.  Nimble fingers find cracks in the surface and you push vertical with both legs and arms springing up to reduce the distance between you and Yang.  She’s probably got more upper body strength - who are you kidding - she’s got more overall body strength than you, but you’re lighter and definitely more agile.  You’re able to swing and pivot against the wall where Yang’s bulkier form would be hard pressed to follow, and in this way you’re able to move more quickly up the jagged surface.  The last hold you find is a root sticking out from a tree above, growing too close to the cliff’s edge.  There’s just enough space for you to half crouch on its surface and you look at the remaining fifteen feet to the edge above you.  Timing your last jump perfectly you land squarely on Yang’s shoulders and you hear her grunt beneath you, digging her fingers more tightly into the cracks holding her to the rock face.  You leap and perform a flip before gracefully landing at the top of the cliff.  

Crouching you peek over the side at Yang’s angered face.  “You still coming?”  The muscles of Yang’s jaw pop as she grinds her teeth.  “Or do you need me to rescue you?”  

What you expect is for Yang’s anger to bubble, for her to grumble and fume and call you out for almost making her fall off the cliff with your actions. You expect her to retaliate in some way.  From what you’ve heard, her anger is the way in which she loses control and since you’ve known her you’ve never seen Yang frazzled.  She’s always been confident, bordering cocky at times, and she shows this in the way she gives her advice without being asked or in the way she teases you. She’s strong, self aware, put together, and just Yang.  That’s who she’s always been in your three summers worth of memories of her, but you remember Ruby telling stories of her sister’s unchecked temper.  You remember the stories of an irritable Yang, one that got into trouble, picked fights with those out of her league, and created problems with her rash decisions.  As far as you know Ruby is the most credible source for information on Yang, but you’ve never seen that side of the older girl.  It comes as a surprise when Yang’s angered expression morphs into something altogether pleased.  It’s shocking how disappointed you are.

You back away from the ledge when she reaches for it to pull herself the final distance to your level.  She stands there, only two strides separating you and just looks with that odd half-smile plastered on her lips. There’s a loud silence between you and you’re not sure what it is or what it means so you avert your eyes and wrap your arms around your middle.  

Yang clucks her tongue against her teeth and turns to approach the stream. “Come on.” She calls over her shoulder.

Following only because you don’t know what else you’re supposed to do now that you’re up here.  Pausing on the bank as Yang hops onto a boulder in the middle of the rapidly moving stream. She makes a few more leaps until she’s perched comfortably on the largest rock, right at the edge of the cliff.  Yang leans forward to peer down at the water falling directly below her than turns her challenging lilac eyes to you.

“Let’s go already.” She calls to you excitedly. “Hurry up.”

“You’re crazy, I’m not coming out there.”

If it weren’t for your extra pair of ears you’re sure her responding snort would have been drowned out by the noise drifting up from below.  

“Don’t tell me Kitten doesn’t enjoy getting wet.”

A scoff is pulled from your throat. “Grow up and don’t be so crude.”

“What are you talk-“ Yang’s eyes widen comically, she stares at you in almost awe before her trademark sly cheshire grin replaces it.  “I hadn’t even meant it that way.” She states, eyes smiling. “But good to know that’s where your mind is.” Her wink has you blushing and your teeth find the corner of your bottom lip. “And Kitten?” You hum as a response but keep her eyes. “If you’re not enjoying being wet in that way, you’re doing it all wrong.”

With that she lets herself fall backwards, arms spread out at fom her body. You watch in horror as she slowly disappears over the edge of the falls. Rushing forward you frantically scan the water below for her body; seconds tick by like hours.  Finally she emerges from the water taking large gasping breaths.  Her heart must be beating like crazy.  

“What the fuck!” You yell at her, angered that she had your heart stopping in worry.  “Ruby, your sister has lost her damn mind.” You yell interrupting the couple standing on the other side of the small pool Yang is now calmly backstroking through.  

“Yeah,” Ruby calls back. “She’s kind of a show off.”

“She’s kind of a dick.” It’s said under your breath so you know none of them can hear, but it feels good to say anyway.

[mwolf0epsilon]

DBH - The Giraffe Story

And here you go! Another OC drabble, this time another human. Asad Siddiq, or Mr. Siddiq if you prefer, is a Pakistani immigrant who became a successful environmental lawyer. His hobbies include taxidermy and rescuing animal androids. He was the one to give Carl his decorative giraffe, and the story behind why is a bittersweet one.

Enjoy

---

    It all started with a lonely giraffe in a zoo. Granted you could say it actually started when the news announced said giraffe's mate had died, leaving it as the sole member of its species still walking on the face of the Earth, but frankly that sounded a lot worse than it really needed to be, and Mr. Siddiq wasn't one to add more of a negative tone to an already bleak situation.

So, like any other reasonable gentleman, he liked to think it started with the giraffe, and not with what led him to it.

For all events and purposes of this odd little romantic tale, it all started with that one lonely giraffe and two equally lonely men in their late 50s.

    He'd been widowed for at least two months now. Once married to a darling spitfire of a woman with a hardent passion for nature just as strong as his own, and now married to his work in conservation biology and environmental law.

You could call him well adjusted and ready to move on, but Siddiq himself wouldn't call it that. For one, it still felt odd being alone in the house they'd built together.

He felt that it was much too big for one man to live in on his lonesome, with corridors filled with professional photographs of various animals and remote locations, as well as various trinkets acquired on many journeys.

Each trinket, each photo, spoke a tale of its own. A shared story that sadly there was no one else to stand by him and traverse those lovely memories with, nor to look up in awe at the subjects of his and his late missus's interests.

From proud pouncing tigers to the gentlest of monolithic elephants, immortalized in their works. He'd been a photographer once, just as she'd been a painter before she became a cellist.

He seldom received visitors, much less a letter or call from his relatives who elected to remain living in Pakistan despite his offers to accommodate them if ever they needed a change of scenery.

Without Darlene, home just didn't feel complete, which contradicted the mere idea that he was done grieving his loss, much less the loss of opportunity to ever have a substantial family.

A 55 year old was expected to be a grandfather by now, but neither he nor Darlene had ever had much of a chance to spawn and raise a child.

Much like the giraffe he was visiting, Mr. Siddiq was at a loss for how to remedy his mournful moods. And no amount if work, as devout as he was to his cause, could fill the void his own departed mate had left.

    Mr. Siddiq had known for a while that the Detroit zoo was having issues maintaining the exhibits. For all that they desperately tried to keep their animals in good health, it was getting harder to tend to the needs of their larger animals who were at risk of going extinct.

Breeding programs were ineffective and far too stressful for the animals, and the lack of even numbers of opposite sexes was slowly becoming a problem.

Without a diverse gene pool, there was a high likelihood of inbreeding occurring, and that was unacceptable.

There was also dietary issues for the herbivores who's main sources of nutrition were slowly disappearing as well, with the extinction of certain species of trees and other plants.

They could introduce substitutes, but a lot of animals were very picky eaters...

It wasn't for a lack of trying that things didn't work out...There was just not much they could do anymore to save certain species, as was the case of the giraffe. This of course, was being used as an excuse for Cyberlife to produce more android animals which, while quite useful for educational purposes, were grossly misused in entertainment more than in the spread of information. Why bother with the real deal when you could use androids for whatever you desired?

A pity, he thought, as he stared up at the large mammal as it seemed to roam aimlessly in its enclosure. It was searching for another that was no longer there, who'd never return.

 “Poor thing...It's never known freedom and now it'll die alone...” he spoke to no one in particular as he watched the poor creature continue it's aimless passing. He could empathize with it's struggles.

A hum of agreement made him pause, startled out of his thoughts, before he turned to his left and saw his unexpected sympathizer. A man, possibly in his 50s much like Siddiq himself, stood leaning against the rails while staring up and up just as he had been, at the long necked ungulate. If the giraffe took any notice of the addition to its audience of one, it did not show it whatsoever.

 “Indeed. It's quite a pitiful story...To be born to entertain humanity, meet the one other that can understand it, and then be left to rot because it was deemed a lost cause the moment it's significant other passed...” The man smiled bitterly “All it's ever known is a caged life, acting as an object of a crowd's admirations, and now the one speck of happiness it had, it's mate, is no longer there to help it pass on peacefully when it's time does come...”

 “Poor Jeoffrey.” Siddiq agreed while turning back to look at the animal. It had paused briefly before turning around and snorting. It had given up looking in that part of the exhibit perimeter.

Brown eyes wandered back to the other man, studying his features carefully.

The man was quite slender, with a posture indicative of a sort of regal yet rebellious nature. The stance of a upperclassmen who'd earned his fortune through hard work and ingenuity.

His hair had begun to grey, although Siddiq could still identify him as a brunet. The blend of chestnut and silvery hues seemed to compliment pensive blue pools that gazed so intently at the giraffe enclosure.

He could almost see gears turning from the intensity of that stare alone.

A studious and clever man, one with a potential eye for detail.

A photographer or an artist.

Most impressive were the tattoos.

Hexagonal patterns that seemed to fill and ripple alluringly on pale flesh, ending only where wrist met callused hand.

Mr. Siddiq stood in the presence of a very handsome man.

“You know, giraffes were always my second favorite animal...They aren't very picky with what company they seek.” he commented as he tried to look away, mind threatening to wander from the topic at hand due to the aesthetic pleasenthoods of his companion.

 “Quite the clever and majestic creatures.” The other agreed as he continued to watch the giraffe trot around in its enclosure, now wandering in the opposite direction it had once been exploring.

It ignored the food it had at its disposal. The zookeeper's had expressed their concerns that it no longer ate as it should. “Truly, they are beautiful animals. It will be quite sad to see this poor fellow go...”

 “The veterinarian that worked with the giraffes would beg to differ...She was quite frustrated Jeoffrey refused the female from the breeding program before the poor thing passed away of complications. She was adamant there would have been hope for the species, which is doubtful at best…”

 “...You're telling me someone had prejudice against a gay giraffe in this day and age?” the amusement was palpable, he quite liked the sound of laughter in this curious stranger's voice.

 “Like beating a dead horse, wouldn't you say?” Mr. Siddiq chuckled back. “I must say, the poor thing was much happier when that handsome young bull was around. It will indeed be quite sad when he passes...Although, the owner is a dear friend of mine and he has given me permission to acquire the body later.”

 “For what purpose?” he other raised an eyebrow, perhaps unsure of what a person would do with an entire dead giraffe.

 “Taxidermy is a hobby of mine...Working on a giraffe...I'd consider it both a challenge and privilege at my age. And then, when I'm done, I will likely donate it to the museum of natural history. Perhaps the Smithsonian if they are interested.”

The man finally turned to look at him, regarding Mr. Siddiq with inquisitive and inviting eyes as blue as gems, before extending a hand and offering a tired yet hopeful smile. The tattoos adorning his arms were indeed very pleasing to the eye.

 “Carl Manfred.” he introduced himself, a name that rang familiar.

 “Asad Siddiq.” the smile was quickly returned, as was the firm handshake. They'd known right there and then that they'd become good friends, just as Asad knew his greatest work would eventually go to someone other than a museum, although for at least two weeks into that particular project, he hadn't yet known why he'd thought so.

    Their brief conversation had led to many more after they'd exchanged contacts. They'd made it a regular thing for the next 7 years, to meet at the enclosure until the day Jeoffrey finally passed.

They felt it only fair that the poor creature would have company in some way, until it's final day arrived.

These encounters eventually evolved into what the Media described as “Carl Manfred's most scandalous affair as of yet”. Complete and utter nonsense, as Carl would need to be married for it to be an affair. Both of them concluded that the Media needed to shove it and allow them peace, as what they did together in the bedroom was no one's business but their own.

No one was too old to date, and neither of them were so close minded that they couldn't appreciate the company of another man. Quite the contrary, as Carl put it to a pesky journalist who'd caught them on a coffee date.

 “I was born in 1963, not the dark ages.” Carl had remarked as he'd rolled his eyes, scrolling past the nonsense on his pad and smirking as he found the crosswords section. “If you'd rather I answer questions, then here is an interesting one… What is an eight letter word for someone who interviews people of interest in their personal time off?”

 “A...Reporter?” The young man had asked tentatively.

 “No. A fuckface.” Carl deadpanned before pointing at the door. “If you want an interesting story to publish go next doors to the bakery, their prices are so outrageous they might as well be the cause for murder.”

Siddiq had burst out in laughter as he watched the young man's face turn to one of shock, before he scrawled and marched off muttering about old people being entitled and rude.

 “Reporters these days...Just as invasive as they were when reality shows were the biggest thing…”

 “You'll find they still are.” Siddiq replied as he took a bagel from their shared plate, laughing even more at the look of pure horror.

 “Good heavens, still?! Have we not grown past watching people make fools of themselves?”

 “Never. We are a hopeless kind.”

    Then, the day arrived, where Siddiq got a call during one of his and Carl's coffee dates.

It had been a, thankfully, uneventful date this far and they'd been peacefully discussing philosophy, when the zoo owner informed Mr.Siddiq that he could pick up the body that same afternoon.

 “I've seen your work.” Carl had commented as he'd arranged for the truck to deliver the animal to his workshop. “A giraffe is much larger than a cat or a moose. Are you sure your old bones can bare stuffing a 800 kg animal?”

 “I assure you, if I can tire you after you've had one of your famed “bouts of inspiration” then I'm sure I can manage a giraffe that won't move a single inch.” Siddiq chuckled.

 “It's a pity that you'll be working on it...Are you sure you wouldn't want to come with me on vacation?” Carl had leaned against him and rested his chin on Siddiq's shoulder, attempting to sway him with puppy dog eyes.

 “I am sure taking me along on a trip with the mother of your son, and the child in question, would be rather awkward…” he'd stated before giving his lover a peck on the nose. “You need to connect with them Carl...I know you aren't a family man, but the boy deserves to get to know his father.”

 “I know...But I feel like I can't quite connect with Leo.” Carl confessed. “The boy is 16, and I've just turned 66. Anything I have to say, he'll find rather dull.”

 “Carl, if it took 7 years for a very gay and very depressed giraffe to die, I am sure it will take longer for your very bisexual and very stubborn ass to ever grow dull, even to a young boy.” Siddiq reassured. “Get to know him, you'll find you might enjoy having a child.”

Perhaps in the end that had been asking too much. He should have known life wouldn't have made it easy, and that Carl wouldn't come around to the prospect of a large loving family until much later in life, when his mind filled with regrets and what ifs.

Siddiq just never expected to get a call during a conference, detailing the nature of the accident his lover had been in on his journey to return home.

The moment Carl returned, wheelchair bound and perturbed by his predicament, was the day they both knew things would never be the same.

    They tried to save their relationship, just as the zoo had tried to save their giraffe population to no avail.

Carl was not in a very good state of mind, had frequent meltdowns, took to using drugs to escape, barely pursued his interests, and refused physical and emotional support.

He had become a recluse in his own home, and Siddiq found himself feeling unwelcome and alone in his workshop for days on end, because his lover no longer desired his company.

He could say he fought to the bitter end to save seven years worth of mutual love and respect, but then he'd be lying.

Fighting a losing battle wouldn't have done either of them any good and, while the breakup was the worst part of the ordeal, Asad Siddiq was not a bitter man and held no grudge.

He knew Carl was not at fault.

The day they finally parted as a couple, was the day he'd completed work on the giraffe.

He had it delivered to Carl's home, and set it as decoration to hide the stairs he could no longer climb on his own. The call he'd walked in on, reassured him his would not be the only gift arriving that same day, as he knew Elijah Kamski to be a young clever man who never announced his presence if not to accompany it with an act of brilliant kindness.

An android might have sufficient patience to set Carl back on track. They were much more resilient than old fragile hearts after all.

 “Why are you giving me this?” Carl had asked after the men he'd hired finished setting the taxidermied masterpiece in place. “You worked so hard on it, it'd be a waste to give it to an invalid who's been nothing but unpleasant to you.”

 “Because despite what we're about to discuss, I still love you, you old buffoon.” Siddiq replied calmly, before looking up at his work. “Think of it as me leaving my mark in your life dearest friend… As I feel we won't be seeing each other so soon until we've both figured out what we want.”

 “Asad…”

 “Carl, I don't blame you.” he interrupted before the other could have a say “I understand. It hurts terribly, but I understand why we must say goodbye for now.”

 “...I'll miss you.”

 “As I'll miss you dearest...”

The apology went unsaid, but it was felt between them both as they shared one last parting kiss.

It was funny.

He'd loved both Darlene and Carl in the same manner: With fervent passion and undying loyalty.

Yet losing Carl had left him feeling hollower than he had felt when he'd lost his wife.

Perhaps because Darlene couldn't control the fact she'd gotten deathly ill and that she had to leave, but Carl had the option of saving their relationship more than once and opted to isolate himself instead because his self-esteem had plummeted with the accident...Either way, he wished him the best, took one last look at the giraffe that had led to their first meeting, and resigned himself to moving on.

And moving on he did.

    It was 2038 now. Carl was 75 and Mr.Siddiq was 71. They'd both been very busy since the last time they had formally met.

Siddiq had been right in trusting that Elijah would find a way to help their friend, and Markus was truly proof of his recovery.

Carl had taught the boy well, raising him to be the polite, intelligent and charming young man that he was, and he'd finally made an effort to try mending the gap he'd put between himself and Leo.

Even now, as Siddiq showed his guests around his now extended abode, he couldn't help smile as he watched father and sons interact. It felt even more satisfying having his little Bo's hand in his own, the young girl chattering away to the leader of a revolution that set their kind free.

 “Papa's friends have been helping him take away all the animal androids that people were hurting. We have a lot of them living in papa's domes, and they all like it because papa chooses the right sizes and right plants and rocks to make them feel at home!” The YK500 excitedly explained as she looked up at Markus. Boadicea was a treasure and Siddiq had known for a fact Darlene would have loved her.

 “You've been busy Asad.” Carl commented.

 “Repurposing and remodeling greenhouses into eco domes? I would hardly call that busy. It was quite easy actually…” he dismissed before letting go of Bo's hand and producing a set of keys from his pocket. “Mind the snakes. Ahri is very picky about guests, and Jolene is known for biting tattooed men.”

They passed through a well lit room made to emulate several different biomes. A massive coral snake and an equally tremendous rattlesnake regarded them with inquisitive eyes, before hissing in warning at the three guests. A nasty habit they had to stir up some chaos.

 “Charming.” Carl chuckled, giving Markus a reassuring smile as the RK200 seemed to turn a shade lighter at the quantity of reptiles in the room. A phobia perhaps?

The coral snake hissed loudly as if to confirm this, adding an extra spring to Markus walk as he tried to put as much space between himself and the android reptiles.

 “Now, what I have to show you Carl, is something I've been very excited about the last few days.” Asad carried on as he led his guests to another door that led outside to the largest greenhouse in his property.

He'd made sure it had been correctly resized to house his newest acquisitions, and his darling Sasha lay outside the entrance awaiting them.

 “Is that a tiger?” Leo gulped.

 “Don't be scared mister. Sasha is a very good girl! She's the nicest kitty around.” Bo reassured as she ran to meet the big cat. The tiger chuffed at the child in greeting before getting up and walking over to meet with them.

She regarded their guests with mild interest before butting her head against Siddiq's hand. He gave her three nice strokes on her broad back before moving along. “Thank you darling, you may go play with Bo now.”

 “Come on Sasha! Papa had Houston's hoof repaired so you can race again!”

 “Is Houston a horse?” Markus asked.

 “No silly! Houston is a zebra! They're stripe buddies!”

 “Oh...Kay…” Leo shrugged at Markus when he seemed mildly puzzled by the idea of a tiger and a zebra being buddies, even if they were androids, before wheeling their father into the greenhouse behind Siddiq. He stopped not five feet in and stared in awe at the inhabitants of the greenhouse.

Markus and Carl shared his look of wonderment, while Asad smiled in satisfaction as he watched his herd of 40 android giraffes walking freely in the massive dome he and his team of WR600s had landscaped into an almost perfect replica of a South African landscape.

 “Beautiful isn't it? And to think all of them were rescued from different decrepit zoos...They immediately took to each other.”

 “Asad this is…” Carl's eyes were wide and twinkling. Never had he imagined he'd ever see giraffes roaming their natural habitat. Even if this was synthetic in nature, it still felt so incredibly real to them all, and it showed in their reactions.

 “I wasn't lying when I said giraffes were my second favorite animal Carl.” He chuckled “I consider them Jeoffrey's legacy... All of these domes are the real animals's legacy in fact. A look into the past.”

 “...Isn't Jeoffrey the name you kept calling the stuffed giraffe back at home?” Leo asked, to which Carl couldn't help chuckle.

 “Yes, that was the name he was given when he was born at the zoo a few decades ago…” Carl replied “Jeoffrey the giraffe.”

 “A rather classic and unimaginative name but it fit him. He certainly looked like a Jeoffrey.” Asad commented “It took me weeks to finish stuffing him, before I gifted him to Carl.”

 “A gift I still don't entirely feel like I deserve after treating you so shamefully after the accident…” Carl admired sadly.

 “You were hurt, and I lacked patience. I buried myself in work after I realized things weren't going to work out between us.” Asad gave his friend a pat on the shoulder. “We moved on, as did life, and we came out better for it…”

 “...Wait wait...So you two were like, a thing?” Leo asked.

Markus also seemed curious on this same matter.

The two merely chuckled and nodded in confirmation.

 “How did you meet?” Markus inquired. It must have seemed odd to him, an artist and an environmental lawyer mingling, like the tiger and the zebra. Not many hobbies they shared that could get them in the same room.

 “Now that…” Carl started. “Is a funny and rather long story.”

 “Well, we don't have to go back home until 18:00, so we have time.” Markus pointed out.

Leo seemed to agree with him, only once looking away to watch the giraffes. Two of them were necking, more so in a show of affection than aggression, while the rest of group carried on walking without them.

 “Very well, I don't see why I can't spare an hour or two…” Carl began a tale both he and Siddiq knew by heart. “...You can say it all started with a lonely giraffe in a zoo..."