#I said af a lot

[sgtpeppers]

"A dark shadow on an otherwise beautiful record": PR, McCartney and The Beatles' Split.

“No, I wasn’t angry – shit, he’s a good P.R. man, that’s all. He’s about the best in the world, probably. He really does a job. I wasn’t angry. We were all hurt that he didn’t tell us that was what he was going to do.”

(John Lennon in Rolling Stone, 21 Jan 1971)

To cut to the chase, I want to explain why this statement from John, claiming Paul is a good PR man is wrong. Largely thanks to quotes like this from John, Paul gets painted as the Beatle with a good media strategy, the insinuation being of course, that he is disingenuous and inauthentic. I don’t believe this is true in general, but what I really want to focus on, and what John is referencing in that quote, is the publicity around Paul’s 1970 album McCartney, which got all tied up with the news of The Beatles split, and how actually, mistake after mistake was made, rather than it being what John claims - a purposeful move to get more publicity for his album. 

This isn’t a moral judgment on either John or Paul, or me saying Paul is stupid for not doing more. In fact, I think it playing out this way is far more interesting and we can gain a lot of insight about his mindset and relationships from his press activities around this time. 

I’m going to do this chronologically as much as possible, but before we dive in it will be helpful for us to keep a few basic PR strategies and tools in mind to help us understand what’s (or perhaps more importantly, what’s not) happening. So what are some things that make for good public relations? 

A clear, cohesive message. What's the story of the album? There should be key phrases that are repeated throughout press activities, and also allow an easy fall back when faced with questions that haven’t been prepared for. Broadly speaking, you want to highlight the good and ignore the bad, without lying or appearing to hide anything.

A good relationship with the press. Having even a couple of journalists on side can be a huge benefit, it makes for friendlier interviews and more forgiving assessments (which isn’t to say journalists are being fake or can be incentivised, but it’s just human nature that if you make friends, you’re going to have an easier time.) Furthermore, you want a reputation in the industry as someone that’s nice to interview, because journalists can and will talk, and if they’re going to come in with a preconception about you, you want it to be positive. 

Reactive messaging. If something comes out that you don’t want to be out, be prepared. Ideally potential problems have already been planned for. Know which journalists to reach out to, know what the story is, then be prepared to go quiet and leave things alone.

Pre-prepared Q&As or FAQs should answer more questions than they generate. They also shouldn’t require in depth answers - save that for conversations where there’s time for explanations. 

So, let’s start back in 1969. The Paul is dead rumours are in full force and Paul, Linda, Heather and Mary are living up in Scotland, trying to escape the goings-on back in London. 

On 24 October, Paul gives an interview to the BBC dispelling the rumours about his death, which goes out on 26-27 October in two parts. A few days later, Dorothy Bacon and Terrence Spencer from Life Magazine make the trip up to his farm to try and get another interview with him, for a piece they’re also doing about the rumours. 

Paul throws a bucket of dirty water at them, they get pictures, and then realising how this will look if published, Paul gives them an interview and promises to have Linda send them some family shots for the articles. In exchange they get rid of the photos they took earlier in the day.

So the first point here, that hopefully I don't need to spell out, is that you don’t wanna go throwing buckets of water at journalists. Thankfully, Paul did realise this and course corrected, but I can only imagine what the fall out would have been had he hadn’t gone after them. But what’s important for this story is that Paul is fed up with journalists and having to share his private life, he's emotional, and his instinct is to lash out.

The other thing that’s interesting here is a line that goes completely unnoticed. At this point, The Beatles split is not public knowledge. 

The Beatle thing is over. It has been exploded, partly by what we have done, and partly by other people. We are individuals, all different. John married Yoko, I married Linda. We didn’t marry the same girl.

(Paul McCartney in Life Magazine, November, 1969)

This is huge, and it doesn’t get picked up by anyone else. It’s not made a big deal of in the Life article, it’s perhaps the clearest statement we get about the state of The Beatles, and yet it flies under the radar. I’d love to know exactly what the deal is here, but there’s not much we can do about that, but what we should start keeping in mind in this: there is no plan in place around The Beatles split. There is just an agreement to not make it public yet. 

The McCartneys go back to London and Paul starts recording music with his new equipment at home. Later he books studio time when he decides he can make an album out of the songs he’s been working on. 

Some key dates: 

Paul finishes the album on 25 February.

The album is set to release on 17 April.

Ringo’s album get rushed to release two weeks early on 27 March and Let It Be is also supposed to be released in April.

On 31 March John and George send a letter, delivered by Ringo, asking Paul to delay the release of McCartney. Paul refuses and Let It Be gets moved instead. 

Which brings us to April. Prior this, Paul realised that if he’s going to be putting an album out he’s going to have to do some publicity, but the problem is… well, there’s a few; he’s never had to do publicity for a solo album and simply doesn’t have the knowledge, his relationship with Apple has completely deteriorated which includes the people who have been handling this stuff for him in the past, and lastly, he doesn’t want to be dealing with press. Refer back to him and the bucket. 

Thankfully, Peter Brown and Derek Taylor from Apple’s press office, tell him he does need to do something and to an extent, he listens. They select a handful of papers he’ll do interviews with, and Peter Brown puts together a Q&A for Paul to answer, which will go out to journalists in the press kit with their early copy of the album (x).

What I would love to do here is a question by question breakdown of that press kit Q&A but I’m conscious of how long this is already so I won’t… but before we get into that, here are a few more key events: 

7 April: The Eastmans issue a press release with news about Paul’s solo album and his acquisition of the film rights for Rupert The Bear. This is covered mostly by American press on 8 April who speculate that this could mean the end of The Beatles. (An important note here is the lack of communication between the Eastmans and Apple, not knowing what materials each other are providing is not helpful).

9 April: McCartney press kits are sent to journalists. 

9 April: Before Don Short at the Daily Mirror clocks off for the night, he is called by an Apple employee who tells him Paul has definitely quit. 

10 April: The Daily Mirror breaks the news with the headline ‘Paul Is Quitting The Beatles’. 

10 April: After doing interviews all day, Derek Taylor issues a statement regarding The Beatles. It doesn’t say much, which he acknowledges, because there’s not much he can say at this point. Another important note here, is that not even the head of publicity of Apple knew what was going on with The Beatles. There is no communication, and with no communication there can be no plan.

(Paul McCartney Project page that covers all this)

So what happened that made The Beatles split go from speculation to a certainty? It’s all to do with that Q&A. Of course, with the Eastman’s press release people were going to start connecting the dots, but that call Short got from his source isn’t presented as a rumour. 

Now, there’s a lot to say about this Q&A because Paul's answer are so unhelpful and you can feel his attitude. I think the fact this was allowed to go out is a fundamental piece of evidence of Paul’s relationship with Apple at the time. No one wanted to tell him no, and he certainly wasn’t going to give them more than the bare minimum. 

And lets be really clear here. This is a Q&A for his new album. Obviously the state of the Beatles was going to be brought up which is why Peter Brown included the questions, but the number of the questions on that topic and then Paul’s answers, make it really confusing and it’s no wonder this is what press picked up on, rather than just talking about Paul’s album. There are 41 questions in total, and 13 of them are asking him about his relationship to the other Beatles, Apple and Klein. That’s just over a third of the Q&A talking about things that he doesn’t want to be talking about. The fact he didn’t just tell Apple that he wasn’t going to answer some of the questions shows how little forethought went into this on his part. There was a much more concise way to do this, and I do not believe for a second Paul wanted further questions about the state of the Beatles when he’s trying to promote his first solo album. 

And remember what I said at the top, about how if you’re gonna be promoting something in the press you want clear messaging around it? That’s already going be difficult now this Q&A has tied so much of the Beatles split into their messaging, despite Paul actually having a pretty clear idea of what the album’s story is aside from that, but the answers Paul gives to those questions just add further confusion. 

Link to full Q&A.

Q: Were you influenced by John’s adventures with the Plastic Ono Band, and Ringo’s solo LP? A: Sort of, but not really. Q: Will they be so credited: McCartney? A: It’s a bit daft for them to be Lennon-McCartney-credited, so ‘McCartney’ it is. Q: Will the other Beatles receive the first copies? A: Wait and see. Q: Is it true that neither Allen Klein nor ABKCO have been nor will be in any way involved with the production, manufacturing, distribution or promotion of this new album? A: Not if I can help it. Q: Did you miss the other Beatles and George Martin? Was there a moment eg, when you thought ‘wish Ringo was here for this break?” A: No. Q: Are you planning a new album or single with the Beatles? A: No. Q: Is this album a rest away from the Beatles or the start of a solo career? A: Time will tell. Being a solo album means it’s the start of a solo career… and not being done with the Beatles means it’s a rest. So it’s both. Q: Is your break from the Beatles temporary or permanent, due to personal difference or musical ones? A: Personal differences, business differences, musical differences, but most of all because I have a better time with my family. Temporary or permanent? I don’t know. Q: Do you see a time when Lennon-McCartney becomes an active songwriting partnership again? A: No. Q: What is your relationship with Klein: A: It isn’t – I am not in contact with him, and he does not represent me in any way. Q: What is your relationship with apple? A: It is the office of a company which I part-own with the other three Beatles. I don’t go there because I don’t like the offices or business, especially when I’m on holiday.

So what can we get from this? It’s the start of a solo career for Paul, he doesn’t know if The Beatles break is permanent or temporary, he’s not in contact with Klein and Klein doesn’t represent him, he owns part of Apple but he doesn’t like going there, and he seems very certain that the Lennon-McCartney partnership is over, despite not being sure if The Beatles will play together again or not. 

It’s a mess. It raises further questions. The only reason I can think of for it being so long is Peter Brown trying to cover absolutely everything he could think a journalist would ask, but it’s given Paul far too much scope for muddled answers, and in some cases, factually incorrect ones. He is tied up with Klein whether he likes it or not, because Klein’s tied up with Apple and Paul still has a contract with them. 

It’s no wonder that this becomes the focus of the media narrative, and it makes Paul panic. 

So on 16 April, the day before McCartney was released, Paul sits down with journalist Ray Connolly. And we move from story making, into reactive messaging. There is some thought behind this - Connolly is friendly with The Beatles and had actually already been aware of the split thanks to an off the record chat with John, so he was a good choice. The interview was published in the Evening Standard, a few days after the album had come out. 

And here’s why you want a friendly journalist to talk to, because as the world rushed to say that Paul had broken up the band, Connolly led his article with this: 

Paul McCartney didn’t kill the Beatles. If the group is dead, McCartney might be seen as the last survivor. If he has quit, and he still hasn’t confirmed it, he was the last to go.

(Paul McCartney in the Evening Standard, 21-22 April 1970)

However, the interview is also extremely telling about where Paul’s at emotionally in this moment. 

A few days ago Paul McCartney decided to break his year-long silence and be interviewed. He wanted to clear up the confusion about his relations with the other Beatles and Allen Klein, and to kill the rumours that he was now ‘a hermit living in a cave somewhere with a ten-foot beard’. He wanted to show that he really was a happily married man with ‘a nice family and a good life’. But most of all he wanted to talk, to work things out in conversation, as much, I suspect, for his own benefit as anything.

This is not what you want to be doing with a journalist, you want to have this worked out before the conversation. 

We met for lunch in a Soho businessman’s restaurant. With hardly moments for the hellos, he’d launched into his theme, talking rapidly and intently, and only occasionally allowing Linda to come in as support and verification. He wanted to put it all straight, to show that no one was to blame for what had happened, and when after two and a half hours’ non-stop talking he had cleared up his mind and mine too, he laughed, said he felt better now, got into his car and went home.

This demonstrates the lack of media training he had. It’s a stark difference to the confidence he had doing press with the other Beatles, on his own and with a particular idea to get across he appears nervous and controlling. Long form interviews like this are a marathon, not a sprint, and had he had an advisor or representative that was willing to push back against him, he would have known how to handle this better.

Moreover, an interview of this sort should have been done and published prior to the album coming out, or at least on the day of. Yes, there were always going to be questions about The Beatles tied up with this release, but one long interview like this, that had been properly prepared for, could have gone a long way to keeping the story straight. He also, despite his steamroller-ing of the conversation to begin with, comes across much more balanced about the situation than he does in those Q&A answers, so leading with something like this would have put him on much better footing.

So let's just pause here. What have we got so far? We've got Paul wanting to do as little press as possible, and with a breakdown of communication with his press team resulting in minimal planning and advice. This goes completely against the picture John is trying to paint.

And I’m not done yet. Because now we need to talk about the response to the album which wasn’t what I imagine Paul had wanted. There are two reviews I’m going to focus on here, firstly from Disc & Music Echo, written by Penny Valentine. 

I don’t know what he was thinking when he planned this album. Perhaps he is laughing at us all. That’s fine, but it’s a pretty cruel way of doing it… almost a betrayal of all the things we’ve come to expect.

(Disc & Music Echo review, 18 April 1970)

It’s really harsh, but also this is within her right as a journalist. And what should someone do if they’re getting bad reviews? Ignore them. Thank the fans. Thank the people who say nice things. Don’t highlight negative attention, and certainly don’t lash out. 

And look, there’s a lot to be said about Paul, Linda, John and Yoko’s press communications over the 70s, the Melody Maker letters spring to mind, and I’m very aware that I’m looking at this from 2025 when PR is much bigger and better oiled machine, almost to the point of it being quite boring and predictable. I do, however, also think that ‘don’t lash out at journalists who don’t like your work’ is common sense. 

So Paul and Linda writing to Disc & Music Echo is a bit much to my eyes: 

Dear Penny hold your hand out you silly girl I am not being cruel or laughing at you. I am merely enjoying myself. You are wrong about the McCartney album. It is an attempt at something slightly different, it is simple, it is good and even at this moment it is growing on you, love. – Paul and Linda McCartney.

(Paul and Linda's telegram to Disc & Music Echo, 25 April 1970)

It’s condescending, and if you want to plant the seeds of what your album is meant to be, there are much better places and ways to do it. Again this is reactive, showing little to no planning earlier in the year. 

But here’s the thing that actually, completely baffles me. On the same day, in the same paper, another article gets published, this time by Derek Taylor, with the by line reading ‘Derek Taylor, Beatles Press Officer’. This just shouldn't happen. I can’t think of another case where someone’s PR is coming to their rescue in print. That’s not their job, and yes, Taylor used to be a journalist but he’s not anymore. I think this is way more to do with the way the people that have been with the Beatles since the early days are so emotionally wrapped up in this, they weren’t the people that should have been handling this.

(x)

It also shows though, that however much Paul was distancing himself from Apple, there were people still there who loved him. It’s an emotional, beautifully written piece calling for people to leave Paul alone, but also not a good PR move, especially when he’s highlighting a specific journalist. Whether Paul asked Derek to do this, or Derek did it of his own accord, I don’t know, but it looks defensive and if I was a journalist, I’d be rolling my eyes. 

Which brings us to the final part of this, the Rolling Stone review, published on 14 May 1970, nearly a month after the album came out, and largely not about the album at all, but a lot of  focus on Paul’s handling of the situation. 

The review of the actual songs is pretty complimentary, but this is also a personal attack on Paul. 

(Full review)

Unfortunately, there is more to this album than just music. Accompanying the release of McCartney was a mass of external information — all of it coming directly from Paul himself — which casts real doubt on the beautiful picture which the songs create. 

The sheets contain even more assertions about how happy and peaceful Paul and Linda are these days, and some interview statement from Paul concerning his relationship to the Beatles — statements which drip a kind of unsavory vindictiveness.

My problem is that all of the publicity surrounding the record makes it difficult for me to believe that McCartney is what it appears to be. In the special package of information which Paul wanted to include with the album we find startlingly harsh statements.

The lasting effect of this publicity campaign is to cast a dark shadow on an otherwise beautiful record. Listening to it now I cannot help but ask if Paul is really as together as the music indicates, how could he have sunk to such bizarre tactics?

I don't think this needs much commentary. You know something’s gone wrong with your PR when that becomes the focus, rather than the thing you’re actually trying to promote. 

If we return to the four things I listed above, I think we can pretty resolutely lay out what I wanted to do. 

Was there a clear, cohesive message? Around the album itself, sort of, Paul knew what it was. But it got tied up with the news of The Beatles split, the messaging around which was confusing with no one sticking to the same story. He also didn't do enough before the album came out, to get that messaging about his album stuck in people's heads. So overall, no. 

Did he build good relationships with press? No. He threw a bucket at one. He provided confusing press kit material, even to journalists he was friendly with he came across in a manner that was worth noting in an article, he sent a bitchy telegram to a journalist who wrote a bad review, and this all culminated in Rolling Stone spending more time talking about his publicity than his album.  

Did Paul have reactive messaging prepared? Evidently not, and then given the chance to provide some, he came across as panicked to the journalist he was speaking to. 

Did his Q&A provide clear, simple answers to common questions he was likely to get asked? No, it was overly long, asking the same questions in multiple ways and no editing was done to his short, snappy, confusing, and incorrect answers. 

I don’t want to give the idea that Paul, overall, is just shit at PR. (I mean, there's a difference between being a good spokesperson and good at PR but I won't get into that). He’s a highly successful musician who by all accounts, is now extremely good at interviews and making journalists feel at ease. He’s Paul fucking McCartney. But John saying this, in direct reference to this period of press activities is just not true. The album did well for Paul in the charts and sales, yes, but I’d argue that’s despite all this, rather than because of it. 

And it’s also important to reiterate, that Paul simply wasn’t interested in doing a lot of publicity. He wasn’t even sure this was going to be an album when he started writing the songs. He didn’t want people coming to his farm, invading his new family life (and rightly so), he didn’t want to be on TV or the radio every day. That’s why his Q&A is so terse and why he hadn’t put any thought in how he was going to talk about The Beatles. And whilst how he felt is understandable, what he needed were a team around him willing to push back, steer him, and were separate from Apple. That’s the only way, I think, this could have gone differently.

Even then, he probably wouldn’t have listened to them anyway: 

I don’t think I need a manager in the old sense that Brian Epstein was our manager. All I want are paid advisers, who will do what I want them to do. And that’s what I’ve got.

(Paul McCartney in the Evening Standard, 21-22 April 1970)

And that’s really the crux of it all, because you can’t do good with PR with someone who doesn’t want to take advice and thinks they know best. And I love him for it. 

[jerrythebug]

This is how my first try at drawing Booster and Beetle went. I was redrawing comic panels and such, it was great fun!

[armysethos]

yaoi day kissies for my partner @s0bk aahahahuuuu♡♡ u///u we met on art fight so I MUST DRAW US BEING GAY AT LEAST ONCE FOR IT !!! GAY ANIMAL ATTACK BE UPON YE !!!

DIPPING YOU LOW AND KISSING YOU PASSIONATELY !!! YOU ARE MY BELOVED !!! MY LOVE !! MY DARLING !!! MY GOOBIA !! MY #1 GUY OF ALL TIME !!!! I LOVE YOU AND AM KISSING YOU 1000000 TIMES MMMWAAAHHH !!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[blossoms-phan]

guys I’m actually going insane like they’re literally in love with each other

[langernameohnebedeutung]

.

[bobbydagen24]

do you think Branch would still feel somewhat uncomfortable around his Bros in the future? Due to being so unfamiliar with being a part of a family? 😞😞😞😞

even tho they seemed like they were willing to try at being a family again at the end of TBT but obviously 20 something years is a Hell of a long time and in Branch's case it was pretty much his whole life.

so do you think there'd still be a level of tension and uncomfortability?

like maybe we see the other Bros just playing happy families seemingly easily slotting back into their old dynamic while of course having fun sharing the newer parts of their lives with each other.

but maybe Branch would still feel somewhat uncomfortable about it even if he isn't exactly sure why or maybe he even straight up has a touch of imposter syndrome feeling like he doesn't belong in the family or any kind of family for that matter.

given he spent nearly his entire life as a loner so I can't imagine suddenly being expected to slot into a a big family would be all that easy kinda different from the other Bros where they all mostly grew up together.

and even after splitting apart went on to still have close people in their lives Bruce obviously had his wife and later children Clay had Viva and the rest of the Putt Putt Trolls.

and while Floyd doesn't have any cannon relationships I imagine he was a fairly sociable person who at least had close friends over the years.

only exception is JD given he also lived mostly alone for all those years with only Rhonda for company but he still Grew up with the Brothers and their Grandma up until he was likely a late teenager/young adult.

so I feel Branch would very likely be the one who'd have the Hardest time adjusting to just suddenly being a part of a large family again or any kind of family at all really.

what do you think? do you think there'd still be some awkwardness/uncomfortableness from Branch when it comes to his Family in the future?

I find this stuff interesting to think about lol I Really got my Fingers crossed we do get that Christmas Special in the future and they explore something like this since it'd be a pretty good chance to do so if it does take place around Bro zone's first Christmas back together as a family.

Branch straight up lived by himself as an orphan for most of his life so having him just be all okay and easily adjusting to having 4 Brothers back in his life would be disappointing tbh.

[jessamine-rose]

*lovingly tackles Aine*

Read my Yandere! Pierro longfics first ♪( ´▽｀)

Last week, my beloved mutual @ainescribe surprised me with Savior! Darling fan art and AHAI9232@2-!/! CRYING SCREAMING I WANT TO LOOK AT THIS ART AND WORSHIP YOUR VERSION OF SAVIOR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BLESSING ME WITH YOUR ART—

*clears throat* Anyway, now that I finally have the time to properly sit down and comment on the fan art, I’ll do just that. Feedback will be in the tags and it will be unhinged. Once again, thank you so much to Aine for drawing this <3

[wexhappyxfew]

And then “Look at you! You're spilling coffee.” For Brady and Annie >:)

HI POET!!!!!!! thank you so much for sending in a prompt + incredibly sorry it is so SO late for a response!! my summer has been so incredibly busy and i've only just gotten to this now, so i truly hope you enjoy!!! <3 annie and brady are an absolute joy to write and i always love getting to play around in the areas of time we get to see them in - so this is in the early days of getting to know each other and - you guessed it - it involves coffee haha! THANK YOU AGAIN!!! (also hi and hello i am back after an absolutely chaotic af week)!!!!!! <3333

porcelain, silk and starch

(a/n): ANNIE X BRADY GIRLIES THIS IS FOR YOUUUU!!!! getting back into some 'early days' sorta stuff for these two that i felt were needed for their connection. just those early moments of first meetings and interactions that i wanted to work with a bit! and ofc a cameo from co-pilot francis who is my fav of favs fr! a queen in true form!!! i hope you all (and poet most of all - this was a great prompt THANK YOU) enjoy!!! :D

“Silver Bullets should’ve been put into mass production the day she made the run over Caen,” Francis said, pulling her cigarette from her lip and patting the edge of the wing, the early dawn rays of the sun tickling the edges of the metal, “flies like a fucking angel, I tell ya, Bradshaw.”

Annie looked up at the large berth of wingspan for the B-17 and smiled a bit; it was evident how much Francis cared about the plane, like it was this thing they were caring for day by day, somehow watching it grow. It seemed Francis was coming around - they were actually on a name-to-name basis rather than incredibly formal 'Lieutenant Bradshaw' and 'Lieutenant Montez' callings. It was actually kind of nice. Annie knew Francis still held her bearings about everything, but she was more receptive and open-minded than she had been a few days back.

“So, how’d you get wrapped up in all this?” Francis said turning to Annie, a slightly darkened look in her eyes, “Some stupid bet, couldn’t handle a joke from a sick fucko back home? I’ll do you one better, an old boyfriend who thinks he’s God’s greatest gift-“

"Joined the WAC," Annie said, rather unceremoniously - not like her mother had been pleased, so Annie was just used to the lackluster of it all because of that fact (no one had been excited for such a thing, for someone like her, from where she was from), "started ferrying planes - fuel reloads, supply drops. Seems they liked me in the higher ups. Now I'm here." Francis watched her for a moment, smoke lingering up from the butt of her cigarette. With their uniforms on, they both actually looked half-decent - no pilot gear and uniform looking mangled from a mission, no sweat, burnt pieces of hair, frozen eyebrows and bloodied cheeks. Just like normal people for once.

“You know, I like that for you,” Francis said, “I had some guy tell me I could never pilot a plane. Showed him up.” Annie smirked from behind her aviators at Francis - quite the character, she could hold her own and had no problem telling it how it was. Yeah, Annie was already sold, even if Francis wasn't sold on her.

“So. The WAC. Do tell.” Francis said, pointing at her.

“Well, I did translating for a good period of time before I was wrapped up in flying. Gotta say if the opportunity had been presented, I would've stuck with it.”

“Whatcha translating?”

“German, French…tried to get a handle on Russian. Still trying my best with that.”

“Damn, Bradshaw,” Francis said before pointing a finger at her, “what the hell did that have to do with flying?”

“They said we couldn’t do it.” Annie offered back, crossing her arms and shrugging, "That sorta stuff you listen to, even if you don't want to. And then you do, even if they think you can't."

"Birdie really would've loved you." Francis said, the first real genuine smile growing on her face as she crossed her arms, "Wanna see inside?"

Climbing up into the belly of the plane, the lingering silence hit her like bricks, the feeling inside the fort. What had happened here. What they all knew had happened her; what the women of Silver Bullets had experienced. What had Montez said to let them know their pilot was dead? That she had to take control of the plane and the body was in the front seat? What mind-fuck had they gone through to wrap their minds around that fact?

"Pretty isn't it?" Francis said from behind her, briefly patting the edge of one of the seats as they both moved towards the cockpit.

"She's beautiful." Annie said, adjusting herself in the left side of the cockpit, running her hands along the buttons and the wheel and the edges of the window, "Really, it's a beautiful plane."

Glancing back at Francis, she noticed the woman far-off it seemed, eyes glazed, staring somewhere out to the hazy horizon. Annie slowly brought her focus forward again - Birdie had died here. Right where Annie was sat. It was a wonder Francis could even walk up here again - Annie gave her a lot of credit.

"Well," Francis started, blowing breath from her lips, a quick smile darting onto her lips, "we'll have plenty of time to admire this bucket of bolts in the coming days, for now…we oughta get ourselves to the dining hall. Breakfast. Ain't they say it's the most important meal of the day?"

Francis' voiced trailed off somewhere between her talking about breakfast and saying how she thought the most important meal of the day was actually dessert. Annie stood there for a moment, in the middle of the plane, lingering in the stillness, the plane that had launched that crew up into the sky and came back down without a pilot. Who still stood tall and strong, right here, right now.

Annie tried to clear her mind. She hopped out of the plane, landing beside Francis, rather gracefully, and looked up at the co-pilot in the morning sun, who was grinning like a goose at her.

"How many missions you been on?" Annie asked Francis, genuinely curious. She was trying to connect the dots from the incident to now. Had they been up in the plane after what had happened? With a new replacement that hadn't made the cut? How many had Birdie been on?

"Only two." Francis said with a slightly constrained look, before seeming to shrug it off as they made way towards the dining hall, "They wouldn't allow us to go with any of the replacements until we did a practice run or two. As you can see, those didn't go too well." Annie glanced at Francis and evidently saw the stress running rampage through her. It was evident in her face, in the way she spoke - she wanted something to work, she wanted to get in the sky again, she needed something to go right for the first time.

"If I get the position. Officially, that is," Annie started, looking up at Francis, "I intend to keep Silver Bullets as one of the best B-17s in the air. With the crew we've got, the co-pilot," Francis smiled, "I don't doubt that. Birdie had the crew for a reason." Francis watched her, a bit of sentimental air wafting through them as Francis reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

"You're a good one, Bradshaw," Francis said and Annie quirked out a smile, "c'mon."

Entering the dining hall - Annie realized quickly it was only for officers and high-ranking officials when she saw the likes of Major Cleven and Major Egan at a table together, huddled over some coffee alongside Kidd, Crank and DeMarco.

"Here we go." Francis said, leading Annie towards the center strip of table, covered in a white tablecloth, filled with all sorts of baskets of goods, utensils, coffee and mugs, "Usually, you can just get it served to you. But. Figured you'd want to see the spread, huh?" Annie's eyes widened at the assortment of things as Francis gently gave her shoulder a tap.

"I'll get us a table, get your fill, I'll get the food." Francis said before walking off, giving a wave to a few, fellow officers down a few rows of tables, bee-lining towards the food line.

Annie stood quietly for a moment, her eyes running over the length of the table in slight amusement and wonder. Growing up, she never had the sort of luxury as much as simple things like sugar or cream - even in coffee. Coffee was usually black, and a little watered down (it saved them from having to buy so many coffee grounds, you know?), and usually it was bitter. But you washed it down because it was what you had.

Now - there was sugar, cream, honey, biscuits for dipping, actual cloth napkins, a little spoon just for stirring! Gently, she touched the white tablecloth, the soft texture something so delicate and foreign to her in ways someone shouldn't have to think of.

Tablecloths were rough, scratchy and torn where she came from.

Here - they were soft, cream and stitched.

Annie retracted her hand and instead focused on the coffee.

Coffee.

Sometimes all she wanted day in and day out was coffee.

Reaching forward, she picked up a mug and cradled it in her hands - it was still warm, like it had just been freshly cleaned, straight from the hot water.

Annie had remembered feeling out of place before - plenty of times had she done things in her life where being the odd one out was normal for her. But now - even with just beautiful tablecloths and hot coffee mugs - she felt like being the odd one out was something she had to address. Right now.

Glancing around, officers and officials at the tables weren't looking at her (of course, they wouldn't be, why would they, this is normal for them), but for her, being in a place like this? With things like this? Annie set the mug down and then looked at the pot of steaming coffee. She debated. Did she need the cup of coffee?

"Hey," a voice said from somewhere to her left, causing her to turn away from the coffee pot and towards the voice, finding Lieutenant John Brady there, a smile on his face, as he slowly removed his crusher cap, "Bradshaw, right? New pilot for Silver Bullets?" A smile popped onto Annie's face as she suddenly took in that it was that pilot - from a day or two back - John Brady.

A part of her had been wondering when she'd see him again or even just around. He'd been nice, hospitable, and had a funny sense of humor she could get behind. People like that you wanted in your back pocket. Even if all she knew was his name and that he had a nice face.

"Yes. Annie Bradshaw." she said, unable to help her ever-present mannerisms and held out her hand (as if they hadn't met a few days ago and they'd all but tag-teamed Major Egan), "….uh, Brady?" He grinned - she knew it was him too, she couldn't forget a face like that, but she wanted to test the waters. Give a bit of it back.

"Brady. John Brady." he said, reaching forward to shake her hand, smile growing on his own face, "How's it been going? Hopefully Egan wasn't bearing too hard after your introduction a few days ago." Annie laughed - almost a bit nervously and awkwardly - trying to make impressions was something she was never great with, but things usually weighed in her favor at the end of the day.

"No, no, it was fine, really," Annie said, as she slowly dropped his hand, a slight tinge of warmth pooled in her stomach at the thought of his hand again - and the fact that was the second time she had even touched his hand, "Major Egan is definitely quite the character."

"That he is." Brady said with a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets, nodding to her aviators in her front pocket, "Busy day?"

"Francis' showed me Silver Bullets," Annie said with a nod and a smile, "she's a beautiful plane." Brady smiled at her and then glanced over Annie's shoulder at Francis, before readjusting his eyes on her.

"That crew's really glad you're here," Brady said, face falling slightly, "after what happened…." Annie nodded to fill in the gapping hole of words.

"I'm giving them my all. After everything." Annie said quietly and Brady nodded, watching her, something in his lingering gaze a comfort in a way she would never make out, "Well, don't let me be in your way-"

"No, no not at all," Brady said quickly with a nod, "coffee drinker?"

"Yeah," she said, reaching up to run her hand along her hot collar a bit - almost like she couldn't get her mind in gear properly, "never did have much of any of these sorts of fixings back home, so….to say the least, I'm pretty stoked to try it out." She looked back to Brady who was watching her with a quiet look on his face, a soft grin riding his cheeks as he reached forward and took his own mug.

"You said you were from Mankato? Minnesota?" he asked her as she reached forward and picked up the pot of coffee and began pouring.

"Yeah," she said, turning to look at him as she poured, "didn't have a whole lot, but…it was home." There was a twinge of pain to that word. Home. Her mind blanked for a moment, before she was hearing a voice in her ear and her hand was burning.

"Look at you! You're spilling coffee. Here, here-" Annie blinked and turned her eyes and found Brady slowly removing the coffee pot from her grasp, the mug overflowing with hot coffee there on the starch table clothes, stained with dark puddles of drying liquid, her heart pounding. She watched frozen as Brady grabbed some napkins to dab at it, before looking to her gaze again.

"You okay there?" he asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Didn't mean to batter you with questions, I swear my folks just raised me like that, questions and all-

""No." Annie said quickly, shaking her head and looking at her hand stained with hot coffee and gave a nervous smile, cheeks turning a bit pink, "I got….distracted. About home and this place. It's…it's all good. Sorry. About the coffee. And now the damn table cloths." Brady chuckled and took his hand off her shoulder and grabbed the empty mug and poured the coffee to a reasonable amount before handing it to her.

"Don't you worry, Little Birdie," he said with a smile, "it's a big place here. Lots to look at, get distracted by. Being so far from home anyway, that is. I'll let the cooks know-"

"Little Birdie?" she said, interrupting his train of thought. Brady grinned.

"You're a lot like Birdie. Captain Faulkner. You remind me of her, ya know? So - Little Birdie." he said with a smile, "Much better than Egan calling you No Name, too." Annie let out a laugh and nodded.

"Yeah, way better." she said and Brady smiled. For a moment, they stared at each other before Annie cleared her throat and looked at the coffee cup and back up at him.

"I'll be-"

"Your hand okay-" The two looked at each other before letting out a few nervous laughs.

"You first." Annie said, "Rank does its duties."

"We're both Lieutenants, Bradshaw."

"You're 1st. I'm 2nd." she said with a smile, "So?" Brady smirked, before the corner of his eyes and lips softened.

"Your hand okay? The coffee was pretty hot." he said softly and she nodded.

"Fine." she said, "Had cuts and bruises worse than this. Climbed trees as a kid." Brady watched her, brow peaked in interest. She smirked. "Also fell out of a lot of trees, too, so….all good." Brady let out a chuckle at her words, watching expectantly as she cleared her throat.

"And yes…..I was just going to be going. Don't want to hold you up." she said and then looked up at him. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, of course," Brady said, "probably flying club, right?" Annie raised a brow.

"Flying club?" She really was quite clueless on more than she thought.

"Drinks, dancing, music - get the tension out of your shoulders sorta thing." he said, another grin growing, "So, I'll probably see ya tonight?"

"Right." Annie said with a smile, holding the mug close to her, forgetting about cream or sugar, "Sounds good to me. I'll see you around. Thanks. Sorry again." And with that, she was turning away, slightly mortified at her clear inability to pour coffee efficiently. She hurried towards Francis at a table with their food, slamming her body and the mug of coffee down, meeting Francis' slightly annoyed gaze at the rough presence announced.

"You okay?" Francis asked her, eyeing the coffee and Annie's face again, "You look a little flustered. Hey, you drink black coffee?" Annie looked between the coffee and Francis and then sighed again.

"I meant to grab…." Annie looked over her shoulder and watched as Brady poured some cream into his own coffee cup - the one she had previously overflowed, to her own mortifying realization - and was now wandering away with, sipping it ever so gently, settling into a spot beside DeMarco. A pair of fingers snapped in front of her face and she turned quickly to look at Francis.

"Grab what? The LT's attention or a donut?" Francis said, before chuckling at Annie's slightly flustered expression and chuckled, "I'm just kidding you, c'mon, let's eat up. I think we're doing a practice run, just us girls - maybe with Just-A-Snappin', too." Francis bit into a piece of toast, "Harding wants to see us in the air. 'Longside another crew."

"Alright." Annie said with a nod, "We can make that happen." Francis smiled.

"Good," Francis said, "now, eat up. Don't need my pilot going hungry in the cockpit. Might have to feed you some of Margie's crushed up peanuts she's always carrying around-"

"Oh God." Annie murmured, "Bessie warned me….briefly…"

"Yeah, they're a goddamn curse on that thing, but she swears on it. Superstitious that one is." Annie chuckled at Francis' words and they continued to eat and discuss their day. Annie couldn't help but think of it all though - porcelain, silk and starch.

Everything and all things.

When you came from nothing, things like that were practically gold.

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 30

happy early new year.....new years eve eve.....eve squared......

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

this is probably obvious but whenever i write hifumi using 'mister' or 'miss' it's like. an english localized variation of how he uses honorifics in the japanese version

i'm trying to elaborate more on toko and syo's dynamic more. like as two individuals occupying the same body, one of them constantly trying to suppress the other - i can't imagine that they regard each other highly

@digitaldollsworld mvp bc i kept adding on to this one lol

Content warning tags: threats, description of drowning/aquaphobia

< previous - from start - next >

They walk slowly. Mostly for the sake of Hifumi, who seems to be insistent on lagging, huffing under Fukawa’s weight draped across his back, but also with regard to the persisting sting in Byakuya’s ankles, as he tries not to do anything as demeaning as hobble. As it is, he tries to maintain a distance of at least two meters away from the two social outliers, for the sake of his nose; though surprisingly enough, the only offensive odor was Fukawa’s, though being too near to the strange, sugary aroma that he detected in close proximity to Hifumi was also off-putting for a different reason.

Despite her earlier emphasis of time, Kyoko doesn’t make any comment on their speed, instead silently matching Byakuya’s pace. Though, surely, not out of mere goodwill; and unsurprisingly, it’s not long before she asks: “How long were you in the water?”

It’s a complete reversal of her earlier displays of unexpected sympathy, and so matched his expectations of her that it’s almost refreshing. As it is, he can’t help but snort. “You’ll have to forgive me for not knowing. You see, I was a little too preoccupied with self-preservation to be counting seconds.”

“Given how you can still snark, it’s clear you weren��t in there long enough to warrant any major brian damage.” She replies without skipping a beat, unmoved by his vitriol. “So not including the time it took us to drag you out and resuscitate you, maybe around two to three minutes at the most.”

Again; so brisk and clinical and matching exactly to his predictions, that he could laugh with the relief of it. He clicks his tongue instead. “You should be a little more considerate to near-murder victims.”

“And offend your mental faculties?” He shoots a sidelong glance, trying to see if he could catch the shadow of her lips curving into a smile. Nothing doing - the halls are too dimly lit. “It seems that you owe Toko your thanks. She found you quickly.”

At the mention of her name, his mood sours instantly. That was right. Aoi had mentioned as much back in the nurse’s office, though the idea of having to owe Fukawa anything put a bad taste in his mouth. He doesn’t bother turning to look at the dark pile of loose limbs and swinging braids that Hifumi was currently struggling with, his breathing loud and strained. “What’s the order of events so far?” He asks instead. “I left my room a little after nine, and was ambushed immediately after.”

“That would imply that you were unconscious for about twenty minutes before being submerged,” She has her chin tucked over a knuckle, thinking deeply. “Did the attacker concuss you?”

“No. And we’re not having Sakura check me for that either.” He really didn’t want to be subjected to that humiliating examination again. “I think it was some kind of anesthetic. I vaguely remember being assaulted with something against my face.”

“I see. There were some local inhalants in the nurse’s office.” She hums contemplatively. “You’re very lucky. I doubt anyone here knows how to administer anesthetic precisely, and your attacker could have easily overdosed and killed you.”

“Yes, how comforting to know,” He mutters sardonically, as Hifumi makes some kind of nearly-indistinct whimpering mumble behind them. “...That aside, I doubt I was actually unconscious for that long a stretch.”

“How so?”

He doesn’t reply immediately, as they reach the stairs. He grips the handrail, trying not to lean too obviously on it as he places weight down on one foot, biting back a hiss with his teeth in his cheek. “The bag.” He says instead, covering his wince. “It was secured tightly over my head, and contained enough air to keep me from immediately drowning. I tried to maximize my time with it.”

As much of a hidden blessing it had been, it hadn’t been a pleasant experience in the slightest. Straining against his bonds and the chair keeping him pinned do the bottom of the pool, craning his neck to stretch his face as far upwards as he can, trying to take slow, controlled breaths from the air pocket. Fighting panic as cold water creeped up his neck, a slow, relentless march; blinking furiously, irrationally, to try and keep tears from falling as if someone would notice, while above him, all he could see was the flickering of light passing through water, casting dim shadows over the white backdrop of the bag.

When he’d realized that the air was streaming out - bubbling out through the tiny seams, the water level rising and sloshing over his ears, the underside of his chin, the back of his head - terror had seized him, and he’d screamed, once, a short, desperate sound that was insulated to just himself.

He saves those details, though. “I can’t even hazard a guess as to how long I spent underwater. But if Fukawa had found me any later, it’s entirely possible you would have been handling three bodies instead.”

There’s another quiet sound from Hifumi, an oddly high-pitched, hiccuping gasp. Kyoko is quiet for a moment. “That must have been difficult.”

“I survived. That’s all that matters. But it does complicate the timeline, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. As well as the suspect pool - I was hoping that, since the suspect would have only had a short amount of time, it would have made them easier to identify. But since that window between your attack and discovery has been lengthened, it’s harder to pin down.” She sighs. “I wish we had the proper resources to go about this. With so many victims involved, it’d be more efficient to bait out the killer.”

Byakuya blinks, turning to stare intently at her again. There was something off about that statement; he’d never pinned Kyoko to be the kind to openly complain about her circumstances. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a tactic commonly employed in detective fiction, but it’s quite effective in real life. Are you familiar with it?”

“Yes, I am. But-”

“It’s not used in most investigations due to legalities or logistics, but it’s been sensationalized especially in Western media. I believe they have television shows dedicated to it; have you ever heard of ‘To Catch a Predator?’ It’s quite popular there,” She rambles on, the stream of flat words interrupted only briefly by the sudden (and impressively fluent) English. “There’s a wide range of diversity in their criminals as well - aiming to contest the typical expectations of a pervert being overweight and antisocial, though they do tend to be obsessive and easily infatuated.”

Byakuya can only gape. Has Kyoko finally snapped? Was she the one possibly concussed? “What are you-?”

A hand closes over his arm, grip tight for a moment, and he flinches with the prick of her index and pointer finger, driving painfully into the sensitive outer divot of his elbow even through his clothes and her glove. “Be careful.” She hisses quietly, with firm emphasis, and he frowns, one foot halfway to the next step, before-

Ah.

“I’m not sure about American television shows. I never had time for such things.” He says, carefully. “But I’m familiar with what you’re speaking of. Sherlock Holmes used misdirection frequently, some that even involved Watson - though many of those stories are trite fiction, there is an allure to it, especially when it came to outmaneuvering the least suspicious culprits. But you’re quite right that to employ such a thing in real life is reckless without proper preparation, or at the very least, certainty.”

“Yes. I suppose it’s a good thing we’re only lacking in one of those.”

As they reach the second-floor landing, she turns back to Hifumi. “Isn’t that right?”

Hifumi jumps, trembling comically. “I- eh, wha-?”

“Enough of this farce.” Byakuya mimics her, levelling a glare at the boy standing a few steps behind and above them. “Fukawa. You’re awake, aren’t you?”

For a moment, there’s no response. And then:

“Aw, when’d ya figure it out?” Whines the body, slithering off of Hifumi’s back to stand beside him, a flash of white teeth and a red, lolling tongue. “ ‘nd here I thought I coulda put my honorary Juilliard degree to use!”

“I noticed back at the art room. When I revealed the scissors, you twitched.” Kyoko replies, voice low and careful.

“Whaat, f’real? You got some crazy eyes!” Syo whines, crossing her arms. “And you, Squinty?”

“I heard you laughing to yourself as I was describing my near-death experience.” He snarls. He keeps one hand on the bannister, the other balled into a tight fist. “I thought it was Hifumi going into cardiac arrest at first, but then I realized the two of you were actually whispering to each other. Isn’t that right?”

The sound had been so soft and indistinct behind the boy’s gasping that he might have missed it, if not for the quiet giggle he noticed while he was describing how he mitigated the effects of being submerged. A giggle that very much did not match Hifumi’s voice or character.

Syo laughs at that, this time wholly unsubdued, the sound echoing up and down the stairwell. “Damn, you got us!” She hoots, slapping Hifumi across the back, eliciting a yelp. “We’d make a shit pair o’ spies, Huffy! Told ya we shoulda gone slower!”

“Enough. What’s your motive?” He snaps, at the same time edging subtly backwards. He’s not sure why Kyoko chose to confront the two of them now, while they had the high ground. Hifumi, he wasn’t worried as much about, but Syo was likely armed, though how she got her scissors back from Kyoko he had no idea. Kyoko on the other hand, still had her left hand incapacitated, and he certainly was in no shape for a physical confrontation.

“Motive? What, are you accusin’ me of somethin’?” She jabs a finger at him, one hand tugging up the edge of her skirt, revealing something dark strapped against her leg. Silver glints against the dark band, an obvious threat. “You wanna say that louder, pretty boy?”

“We’re not making any accusations.” Kyoko replies sharply, with enough firmness to make Byakuya wonder if she was also armed, to take on a clearly dangerous individual in confined quarters. “We’re wondering why you were pretending to be unconscious. And why the two of you were apparently trying to converse without us knowing.”

Hifumi shakes his head vigorously. This whole time, he had been creeping sideways, trying to put distance between himself and Syo. “I-it’s not what you think!” He yelps. “I-She started whispering to me, I just went along with it-I was trying to figure out what she was up to!”

And to Byakuya’s surprise, Syo nods, arms crossed. “Yep. I got b-o-r-d bored, and if I’m gonna be lugged around, I’d want to be princess-carried! It’s every maiden’s dream to get swept away by a hunk!” She cackles at that, cracking up at her own joke. “Unfortunately, Hamster-Mi here doesn’t have the chops for that. I was just complainin’ to him about how he was breaking my heart!”

Byakuya frowns a little deeper at that. Were the two of them that close? Remembering Hifumi’s unease around Syo previously, the sudden initiative to engage with her was surprising; though then again, it wasn’t like he had reason or desire to pay either of them any particular attention.

“Why pretend to be unconscious?” Kyoko presses on.

“Pushy, ain’t ya? I woke up when Gloomy walked in on the art room and saw that big fella cosplaying a fountain, and I wanted a first-class seat to the drama.” She shrugs. “Little Miss Morose’d been really putting in the elbow grease to, ah…’get normal’, I guess. Not that that was gonna happen in a million years, but she got pretty good at handling blood n’ water n’, like, other stuff...” She tilts her head a bit, almost contemplatively. “But, I guess it’s still a no-go if you shock her with it - I mean, she walked into that room and got jumpscared by a B-grade splatter scene. Poof, out like a light!”

“That’s not a solid excuse,” Byakuya remembers how Fukawa had managed to fight off her own phobia for long enough to manipulate Chihiro’s body, going so far as to mimic the signature of her body’s other occupant. “A pair of your bloody scissors was found at the scene. Can you explain that? Or should we ask the other one?”

“Hey, I’m not the only one walking around with those scissors!” She presses a hand to her chest, as if genuinely affronted by the mere suggestion.

“Your case file said they were unique and custom-made-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But remember - Sherlock over here took my scissors during the last case, right? And left me diggin’ up my back-ups!” And she points at Kyoko this time, a pale hand outstretched accusingly. “Who’s to say she didn’t plant my snippers there? Or did the crime herself!”

And…she has a point. Logically, even if Kyoko hadn’t been the one to throw him into the water, there was nothing to say that the two incidents - his attempted murder and the two deaths in the art room - had to be related. But it wouldn’t make sense, and as irrational a thought it was, he felt that attempting to murder someone by stabbing simply didn’t suit her.

“...She was having breakfast with the others. She has an alibi.” He says, slowly. “Even if she managed to commit the crime of somehow stabbing someone a full foot taller than her and get away without a drop of blood on her, then that means Mondo would have had to be fighting for his life from before she joined the others - and frankly, I don’t think he had that kind of health in him.”

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have planted the scissors. She had been the one to examine Celeste - but that wasn’t logical either, with how she also pointed out the contradiction, how those scissors couldn’t have been the murder weapon -

“Then why drag me out of the room? If she knew I was already awake, what’s the point?” Syo’s voice had changed suddenly, no longer so frivolous and playful, instead softer, chillingly serious. “Who’s to say we weren’t working together?”

Kyoko doesn’t reply at first, quiet for a brief, tense moment. “...I wanted to see what your intentions were.”

“Wow…I’ve heard better excuses from kiddies with their hands stuck in cookie jars.” Syo jeers.

“It’s not an excuse. I understand more of you now - your motivations, your thoughts, and your personality.” Kyoko stares Syo down, chin raised. “Now, come on. We need to go to the pool-”

“ ‘We’? “ Syo throws her head back and laughs, hands clutching her stomach. “Who’s ‘we’?! I got better stuff to do!”

“If we don’t resolve the murder, we all die,” Byakuya starts angrily, and she cuts him off, with a series of gobbling sounds in a mockery of his intonation.

“Blah, blah, blah, whatever! I wanna stretch my legs, and I ain’t doin’ that getting dragged around like a whipped dog,” She sneers, and in a flash, she leaps down the last few steps to land just in front of him. He nearly topples backwards, saved only by his grip on the railing, as she jabs a finger painfully into his sternum. “Listen, she might still be soft on ya, but she’s all twisted up right now, and it’s ‘cuz of you. The only thing you are to me is a sexy piece ‘a meat, so don’t tell me what to care about.”

Byakuya feels his face paling at the threat, frozen in place as she sidesteps him and Kyoko, breezing past him with a lingering whiff of metal and dust, before hopping onto the railing to slide the rest of the way down towards the first floor, her cackles echoing into the distance.

___

The pool is even more warmer and humid than he remembered, the air thick and damp.

Without the distractions of hacking water out of lungs or shivering to death, Byakuya can take in what he’d missed. There’s the chair he’d been bound to, a simple black folding-metal frame, lying next to a flat, white square plastered on the floor - the bag that had been used as a hood, he surmised - though, there’s nothing else that’s particularly incriminating.

He watches as Kyoko peels the bag off the floor, shaking it out and handing it to him. It’s a completely featureless white drawstring thing, made of a durable, tightly-woven canvas, and the kind of thing used for gym clothes. The quality and accessorized appearance of it makes him think that it’s a staple from the supply room. He runs his hands along the seam, finding the whole of it cold and damp, and smelling just like everything else - chlorine and stale water.

He passes it back wordlessly. There was nothing he could observe from it.

Hifumi hovers by the doorway to the boy’s exercise room, fidgeting slightly as Kyoko walks along the edge of the pool, no doubt carefully observing all that she could. Byakuya sits on a bench against the wall and watches her, arms crossed and feeling distinctly useless.

How strange, he thinks, watching her stop, crouch down, and press her hand contemplatively to the floor before continuing on her way. What Syo had said had made sense - how was he sure that Kyoko wasn’t involved in any of these murders, attempts or otherwise? There were no real attempts at trust built between them, not like him and Makoto. All their casual interactions so far had been fraught with antagonizing and sarcasm, and threaded with - and he scowls now with the bitter realization of it - envy, on his part. Why was he so certain of her innocence, beyond just a gut feeling?

His fingers curl, nails biting into his arms. How ironic that he used to scorn such things, but there was only so much information available to him now. All that was left were vague impressions, and…

Blind faith. And he snorts derisively at the very thought of it.

“M-Mister Togami…”

There was also the issue with Fukawa - Syo - either of the two were insufferably irritating on the best of days, but - and he shudders again, remembering the sheer malice that both had approached him with - though, it seemed they had different motivations. Fukawa still had some delusions regarding him, though remembering their last near-interaction, the nature of her fantasies had flipped the dynamic she had previously envisioned. At the very least, he was glad that she didn’t seem to want him dead just yet.

Syo, on the other hand…

“Mister Togami?”

He doesn’t move from his seat. From beside him, Hifumi stutteringly clears his throat, and repeats himself. “Mister Togami-”

“I heard you the first time.” He snaps. “What?”

Hifumi flinches in the corner of his vision, the gray curve of his sweater flickering in and out. “I, ehm…you…you don’t have to stay, if you don’t want…?”

The glare Byakuya directs at him is enough to make him trail off, turning quickly away. “And why shouldn’t I stay?” He asks, cold and chipped. “Am I interfering with something?”

“N-No! I, ehm, it’s just-” His voice squeaks, and breaks, and he clears his throat again, loud and hacking. “Ehem, um, I just thought since someone tried to, eh…do away with you, here, maybe you’d rather be somewhere else?”

His scowl deepens at that, as he scrapes his foot across the floor. His sneakers have the stiffness of being new, and slide a bit too quickly across the damp tile. Certainly he didn’t look that fragile, did he? “I’m fine.” He snaps. “And don’t hover around me. Why don’t you make yourself useful?”

He’s greeted with nothing but the background hum and churn of water and machinery, so he thinks that he’s succeeded in shutting Hifumi down. But then he hears a shuffle, the crinkle of paper and cellophane, and -

Something stretching in from his periphery. He jerks away from it, but it’s just - round and a pale golden-brown - a piece of packaged bread, sitting in Hifumi’s hand.

Hifumi flinches too, the motion accompanied by more plastic rustling. “S-sorry. But you didn’t eat breakfast, right?” And he re-extends his hand, unexpectedly stubborn. “Um. I don’t have much on me, but you can have this. I-I’ve also got chips if you want something salty, but you seem too uptight-” He cuts himself off, clearing his throat again. “I mean, you don’t seem like you’d, uh. Like. Non-breakfast foods for breakfast…”

He makes no move to take the offering, wrinkling his nose instead. Not only at the paltry offering, but also, the few small, dark streaks across Hifumi’s palm and up his sleeves. Hifumi must notice his staring, because he stammers out: “Um, i-it’s from when I found…Mondo…”

“I didn’t know you were so fearless around bodies.”

“N-no, I- um, w-when I found Mondo - in the art room - I tried to help, but…I’m no good at that stuff, and…” He trails off, his voice beginning to shake with a different quality that promised sobbing, and Byakuya suddenly realizes that as much as he dislikes interacting with Hifumi regularly, he wants to interact with a sobbing, traumatized Hifumi even less.

“Fine, I get it. I don’t need to hear the rest.” He takes the bread before Hifumi can say anymore and rips open the seal, tearing into it without ceremony. It’s common fare, carrying the slight, sour odor of preservatives and sweetness of over-processed wheat, and the texture is dense and doughy, flattened from the time spent in Hifumi’s bag. It tastes somewhat like the air around him - chlorine - and would be enough to make him gag, if he didn’t suddenly realize how ravenous he was; as a result, he somehow manages to inhale half of it before he almost chokes on how dry it is.

As he thumps his chest, forcing out the squishy, half-chewed, intrusion from his esophagus, Hifumi thrusts an open bottle of water at him, a little too forcefully, and Byakuya jolts with the splash of cold liquid against his thigh. He jerks out of his seat, glaring furiously, and Hifumi sheepishly, more gingerly this time, offers the water bottle again.

“S-sorry…” He stammers, and there’s the plip, plip plip of droplets sloshing over the bottle’s lip, as his hands shake slightly. “Um, maybe you should walk around? It’ll dry it off faster…”

“Don’t be stupid. This is the most humid place in the school.” He snaps. Thankfully, the spill isn’t large, and he tugs the damp spot away from his skin. “Ugh. And the bench is wet too.”

“Did - did you want me to clean it up for you?” He sounds reluctant, as if the thought of having to do this for someone who wasn’t an over-exaggerated caricature of some subculture - or a girl - was undesirable to say the least.

“Forget it. Just stay here.” Barely five minutes, and he’s suffered pathetically sympathetic conversation, subpar bread, and another dousing. He’s had enough of Hifumi’s company for a while.

Kyoko was watching them from beside the lifeguard’s seat, and face fixed in his direction like a lighthouse beacon. She turns back towards the pool as he steps to stand next to her.

“You could stand to be a bit nicer.” Is the first thing she says after a moment’s pause. “This isn’t the place to make enemies.”

Do you think no one’s more aware of that than me? He feels his lip twitching into a sneer. “Respect should only be given to those who deserve it.”

“If that were true-” She pauses. “No, never mind.”

“No, say it.” He’s never heard Kyoko fully redact herself before. “What is it?”

“It’s not important. Anyways-”

“It must have been important if you thought to mention it out loud in the first place.” She looks away from him, and he quickly circles around, stepping into her direct view. “Well?”

Even this close, he can barely make out anything on her face at all. Behind her, he can see the large, gray shape of Hifumi’s back bobbing as he kneels in front of the bench, presumably wiping it dry.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you today,” He starts, voice raised slightly, firm and disproportionately amplified. “First the meaningless tangent about your television shows, now this pointless waffling. Are you insane? Did something finally crack?”

“I’m fine.” She raises her chin, acting the part of a petulant child. “You’re the one getting hung up on something meaningless.”

“Me? Hung up on - are you serious?” He laughs, humorously. “I’m just trying to make sure you haven’t lost your rationality. Did you forget that we’re all hinging our trust on you?”

“Of course not. But now you’re the one being irrational; are you sure you’re not just worried over your own ego?” And now, her voice is firm, exasperated, as she even starts toying with her hair,  the white strands stark against her glove. “I assure you, it’s nothing I’m sure you don’t already know.”

The smile he feels cracking his face is more like a baring of teeth. “So that’s it. I wasn’t aware that my manners were important enough to you to be commented on.”

“Of course not. There’s very little of you that I feel the need to comment on.”

“Clever. Could you be clever now and continue investigating? Or do you plan to continue wasting our precious time?”

“Me? You’re the one who decided to argue about this point. I already dropped it from the start-”

“Enough.” He says suddenly, sharply. Hifumi has apparently dropped something under the bench, body shaking as he reaches for it, leaning nearly parallel to the floor.

And as if on cue, Kyoko snaps her mouth shut and spins, turning sharply on her heel, away from him. But she hasn’t taken so much a step when-

Ding dong, bing bong.

Monokuma’s voice, amplified and uncanny off the water’s surface and far-reaching walls, is positively ecstatic. “Are you excited? Are you pumped!?” It cheers, and Hifumi falls backwards in surprise just as Kyoko reaches him. “It’s time for the class trial to begin! Like the bright burst of fireworks, like the flash of a soul clashing with life and death…!”

The spiel continues, but Byakuya has already tuned it out, moving quickly to stand over Hifumi’s struggling form. “We need to move,” He says sharply, fumbling for Hifumi’s arm and yanking upwards. “Now.”

The other boy’s face is pale, and he doesn’t budge from where he sits on the floor. “W-what - already?!” He gasps. “But-it’s so soon-!”

“The two of you go first,” Kyoko orders. She’s standing at one end of the bench, looking down at them. “I haven’t checked this area yet.”

“W-wait, but-”

“Let’s go,” Byakuya snaps, tugging again. “She can catch up on her own, but right now, we’re the two slowest individuals here. We need to leave first.”

“That’s-”

“-and without further ado - I’ll see you all soon! Puhuhu~” Monokuma finishes, accompanied by the buzz and click of the audio cutting out. Kyoko grabs Hifumi under the other arm, and together, the two of them drag him upright.

“Come on,” Byakuya repeats, not relinquishing his grip. “Or do you want to find out what happens when we’re late?”

That does it. Reluctantly, Hifumi lets him lead him towards the boys’ locker room door. As they make their exit, Byakuya catches a glimpse of Kyoko watching them leave, before the door slips shut, obscuring her entirely.

< previous - from start - next >

[greyedian]

uh oh besties, it might be time for my (almost) annual Dishonored replay again

[aro-culture-is]

quick note - this blog is gonna be sparse again for at least this week. trying new medications and tbh initial side effects are not super pleasant + actual effects build up. as a result: currently as if unmedicated for mental health, with anxiety+ side effect, extra fatigue, dizziness, and fatigue. it's uh, sure something.

totally recognize that most of y'all know we're absent at times due to health things, just wanted to give a heads up that this one is at least anticipated.

[13eyond13]

I think something a fem!Light would find really fascinating about fem!L is how she doesn't seem to have much of an internalized sense of inferiority or self-consciousness about her gender, because that would just have been SO ENGRAINED in Light's entire upbringing since day 1

[spotaus]

Laughing internally about a situation rn

[reliquiaen]

Dear Respawn Entertainment,

Since I know you'll insist on putting those horrible traversal challenges in your inevitable Jedi Part III, please consider doing one of those pan shots like in older 3D platformers where you can see the whole level and the rough path to take. Because as they are, the traversal tears are nightmarish creations that really force people to experience your namesake to learn the paths. Perhaps the camera pan could be a lower difficulty setting option for those of us who aren't masochists.

Thanks

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 725: Towards a new trial!!

Pag 1

1: Sohoku will become even stronger!!

An injection of will-power to power up!!

Pag 2

1: The Izu Peninsula is a group of massifs perched on the Pacific Ocean, with a view of Mt. Fuji and Hakone

2: In the center of the peninsula there's the hot spring Shuzenji

3: Since a long time ago, a railway for the hot-springs has been made

4: And it made it prosper as a tourists attraction

5: About 10km east of Shuzenji, climbing a ridge in the mountains

Pag 3

1: There's the sports park circuit for bicycles

Pag 4

1: Ohh, woah.... it's so huge, teh

Waaaaa this is incredible Rokudai!!

2: A huge pylon!

It looks like an hotel from that anime with the cars

3: It's- it's huge, teh

Where should we run, I don't kow this level!

4: You've never come here, Kinaka-kun?

I... I've ran in races, but I only went as far as Saitama, it's the first time I come here!!

Pag 5

1: This is Shizuoka!!

When we in the car, we even saw Mt. Fuji...!!

2: Th-th-th that's Mt. Fuji, teh!!

Wooah, it's true! It's so huge! It's more huge than in pictures

3: The camera makes it look smaller

You're right, teh

5: They're in high spirits, those two

Yeah

Pag 6

1: They were chose for the quaolifiers.... and won...

Of course they're excited

3: Let's go, the meeting is soon, Furuya

Yeah, Murakami

5: From now, for the next four days, the training camp will start!!

Pag 7

1: Those of you who get injured or don't feel good, report it immediately

There's no need to overdo it, you can retire in the middle

2: So we can retire, too?

Yeah

I'm glad

3: However

4: This training campalso serves as a selection for the six members who will participate in the Inter High

5: Those of you who want to run in the national competition, the Inter High

6: those of you who want to make a name for themselves, those of you who want to contribute to the team, and those of you who have the secret ambition of playing a flashy active role....

Pag 8

1: Run with everything you have!!

Squeeze out beyond your limit!!

This training camp's finishing order...

2: The first

3: six people

5: Will be the Inter High members regulars!!

Pag 9

1: This course has a 5km long climb

The practice menu for these four days

2: is to run

Pag 10

1: 1000km!!

Pag 11

1: 1000km!

1000km

1000Km!!!

2: Running 1000km is the only practice menu!!

3: Kinaka-kun....!!

4: 1000km... don't tell me

5: Yeah, it's an impossible number

My father's family home is in Aomori, so every year we go there by car, and to go there by car it takes half a day

6: How far do you think it is from Chiba to Aomori!?

Pag 12

1: It's 700km!!

3: 1000km is 300km longer than that!!

4: It's longer.... than from Chiba.... to Aomori.... teh

5: And tht's not all

10: This training camp is simple but intense

Naruko-san said it

Pag 13

1: This electronic scoreboard will show the distance and number of laps accumulated

2: There's a chip installed on your bikes

3: So you'll know the individual number of laps and ranking

4: So I don't have to count them myself?

I'm glad, it'll be comforting

1000km, so, uhm...?

5: You can check after every lap

How many laps you did

6: And how many laps did the others!!

Pag 14

1: “How many laps the others did”..... that means that you can see your own rank on the eletronic scoreboard!!

You have opponents to fight.... in other words, this is a “race”!!

2: During this training camp

A race of 1000km....””

3: It's not just running, it's about how to reach the goal faster than the other members

4: We're being tested!!

5: No!! Wait, Kinaka- the third years are included too, and including both the second and third years, there's no way we can be in the top six!!

Furuya

6: If it's just running... then isn't this training camp is useless?

7: We're too much at a disadvantage!!

It's too much for us first years!!

Pag 15

1: No.... I don't think we have no chances at all!! At the end Naruko-san talked about “requirements”

I think those might become our breakthrough!!

2: Requirements”!!

3: Breakthrough!? How!?

Well.... somehow- I've been thinking about various things...

See, as expected it's impossible

4: As nexpected, Kinaka-kun is thinking about how to make a breakthrough, teh!!

5: The “requirements” for the training camp that the Sohoku racing team organized to work towards the Inter High....

6: How to run during the training camp is basically up to you

Think for yourself and run

Pag 16

1: But there is one “requirement”

Huh? A requirement, what is it!?

Like they'll give us handicaps?

2: Until now, in mine and Hotshot's personal experience in Sohoku training camp

3: many things were used to bind us and made each of us stronger

4: But we talked about it and decided not to use them this time

Those who want to do it can do it on their own accord

5: Instead of that

6: For the next 15 minutes, discuss with each other and choose a partner

Huh, a partner!?

Pag 17

1: The onw you choose will be your buddy for this training camp!!

3: Buddy!?

4: They a partner... who you'lll... run with?

Among us!?

Can I choose anyone?

5: What do we do?

Can we choose someone who's around as strong as us? How about that

6: Sure

Pag 18

1: “Fighting in pairs”

This is this training camps “requirements”!!

2: Kinaka-kun!!

3: Rokudai!!

Pag 19

1: I'll say it once again!! Will you run with me, Rokudai!?

Okay!! Yeah, teh!! Kinaka-kun!!

4: The stickers on their helmets!!

5: To make it easy to identify your chosen buddy, stick the same stickers on your helmets

6: Ugh... the two who participated in the qualifiers

Furuya, we can't lose either

Nogami!!

Pag 20

1: Being a pait means that we can protect each other from the wind

That's right

2: And we can cooperate with other pairs, as four people!!

Alright!! Let's settle aqnd run!! No, as six people!!

I have a feeling this is gonna be okay

4: The other first years wioll be a bit of an hindrance

I want to scatter them as soon as possible

5: Can I ask you that?

6: Kaburagi-san!!

Pag 21

2: As expected

3: I guess they started already

We're a little late

4: Sorry, Danchiku

No, it's alright....

5: Uhm... so it's really.... not good?

7: Yeah

It's better to stop

[icyfox17]

@cristalmystery spruce. Spruce. My lovely. My beloved. I am on my knees. GET DISCORD PLEASEERJFJFKF I GOT SAMMIE ON HERE MWAHAHAHAHAHAJA I KNOW U CAN DO ITTTT I KNOWWWW U CANNNNN