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feralphoenix · 4 years ago

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SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS: The Mechanics of the Infection

welcome back to feral’s essay tag where the hot takes don’t stop from keep being hot!

this particular meta has a Lot of citations from canon, and my plan is to have them as actual footnotes in the dreamwidth mirror when that goes up (as i always crosspost my meta there in case my layout text is too small for any folks accessing these from computer and not mobile).

CONTENT WARNING FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay contains discussion of body horror, cancer, and many of the darker aspects of Hallownest’s society.

ALSO, AS USUAL: I read Hollow Knight as anti-colonialist fiction and all of my meta approaches the text from that angle. This essay is strongly critical of the Pale King and Hallownest, and affords sympathy to pre-Hallownest societies & native characters, including Radiance. If you come from a Christian cultural background (regardless of whether you currently practice the religion or not), some of the concepts I am going to discuss may be challenging for you. Please be responsible in your choice whether to engage with this content, and also, be respectful here or wherever else you’re discussing this essay. Thanks.

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS: The Mechanics of the Infection

If you’ve ever looked through my Hollow Knight tags, you have probably seen me joke about the Infection like a lot, usually along the lines of Radiance casting Level 9 Inflict Tang on Hallownest, or “(radi voice) the End of EVA will continue until you Let My People Go” or some such. In addition to being some of the most beautiful body horror I’ve yet seen in fiction, its appearance also makes it a veritable meme factory.

It is also something that inspires a lot of very wild theorizing amongst fans, because canon tells us WHY the Infection exists but doesn’t ever directly explain WHAT it is. To name just a few of the guesses I’ve seen, people have posited that it could be some sort of pupa juice, or maybe some type of parasitic fungus.

I have my own guess, though, and it’s based on hints we can find in-game. I would like to share it with the class today, so let’s take a quick look through the sauce, starting with what we already know!

WHY

We learn why the Infection happened from Seer and Moss Prophet, and this is also summed up more directly in Team Cherry’s dev notes attached to Seer.

The Pale King wanted to be the only god of light in the crater,* so he tried to kill Radiance by thralling her children - attracting the moths with his light and making them forget about her,** assimilating them into Hallownest. Radiance survived because some moths still remembered and tried to preserve what they could of their original culture,*** and eventually she attempted to reassert her existence and communicate with the bugs of the crater by speaking to them through their dreams. However, the Pale King realized what was happening and ordered his worshippers to shut her out.****

Radiance did not give up, and continued to broadcast her message through dreams. This unstoppable force VS immovable object conflict could not last forever - something eventually had to give, and what gave was the mortals.***** The Infection was an accident that Radiance did not initially intend, but presumably chose to weaponize after the fact as a way to attempt to pressure TPK into releasing the moths and leaving her alone (or, barring that, a way to thoroughly destroy his kingdom at the very least).

SOURCES:

* “No blazing kin. Only one light shall shine against the dark.” - Lore tablet hidden beside the Pale King’s throne in the White Palace.

** “None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters.” - Seer’s 1200 Essence dialogue.

*** “But the memories of that ancient light still lingered, hush whispers of faith... Until all of Hallownest began to dream of that forgotten light.” - Seer’s 2400 Essence dialogue.

**** “The King and the bugs of hallownest resisted this memory/power and it started to manifest as the infection.” - from Team Cherry’s dev notes attached to Seer.

***** “Light is life, beaming, pure, brilliant. To stifle that light is to suppress nature. Nature suppressed distorts, plagues us.” - Moss Prophet's dialogue.

HOW

Now that we’ve recapped why the Infection exists, let’s examine the process of how the Infection works. We see some examples of this with various characters in-game, and the Hunter also shares his observations of the Infection’s mechanics in his commentary on the Infected Crossroads entries.

Since we’ll be bringing up the Hunter's Journal here, I want to first examine three entries to establish its dual authorship and how trustworthy it is: The Shade’s entry, the Lightseed’s, and Radiance’s.

We know that the bottom section of the Hunter’s Journal is the Hunter’s personal notes on each creature because the game itself tells us so. So who writes the notes on top that give a brief explanation of what each creature is? It’s a common fan theory that Ghost writes these, which I believe is indeed the case.

First let’s look at the Shade, which is automatically unlocked when we receive the Hunter's Journal in-game regardless of whether we have died and fought the Shade or not. Mechanically this is important because if the Shade weren’t unlocked by default it would be impossible to attain the Hunter achievements without dying at least once - this would REALLY suck for anybody who likes to suffer enough to try to complete the journal in Steel Soul mode.

The Shade’s entry reads:

Echo of a previous life. Defeat it to retake its power and become whole.

Each of us leaves an imprint of something when we die. A stain on the world. I don’t know how much longer this kingdom can bear the weight of so many past lives...

Notice that the top text knows exactly what the Shade is and how it works. In story terms, this would imply that Ghost has died and come back enough pre-game to understand the mechanics of how their revivals work.

The Lightseed’s entry reads:

A single-celled organism, completely infected. Scurries about simple-mindedly.

Strange air has been seeping down from above for years. Some of the air became liquid, and some of that liquid became flesh, and some of that flesh came to life. I don’t know what to make of it.

In this entry, the top text assumes that Lightseeds are a Lifeseed-like creature that has been infected, and the Hunter’s notes reveal that this is incorrect and the Lightseeds were actually born from the Infection itself. From this we learn that the top text isn’t omniscient and can be mistaken: It’s written from a limited perspective.

And here’s Radi’s entry:

The light,* forgotten.

The plague, the infection, the madness that haunts the corpses of Hallownest... the light that screams out from the eyes of this dead Kingdom. What is the source? I suppose mere mortals like myself will never understand.

Here, the top text has information that the Hunter doesn’t, and which only a handful of bugs are privy to anymore.

From these three examples, I believe it is safe to say that Ghost is in fact the author of the journal entries’ top segments.

It’s important to remember that the observations these characters make can be not wholly correct, and I’ll bring that up when I believe it to be relevant, but for now let’s build a picture of how a case of the Infection generally progresses by looking at the Hunter’s commentary on Infected Crossroads enemies, and at a handful of characters whose Infection we directly observe: Bretta, Sly, Myla, and Moss Prophet.

The Hunter describes the broad arc of Infection progression in the Violent Husk's entry: “First [the bugs of Hallownest] fell into deep slumber, then they awoke with broken minds, and then their bodies started to deform...”

The two NPCs who we can save from becoming Infected, Bretta and Sly, are initially found emitting orange fog and mumbling to themselves. In Bretta’s case, when listened to, she initially talks about being left behind and forgotten** as she assumes that all people will treat her this way even though she craves affection and attention; Dream Nailed either before or after being listened to, she mentions a “shining figure”.***

Meanwhile, Sly speaks about his pupil Oro and someone named Esmy, and when his symptoms subside he identifies that he was led to the Crossroads village ruins by a dream.****

Listening to Bretta and Sly completely brings them back to reality, after which they leave the underground area entirely to return to Dirtmouth. However, when the player encounters Myla after defeating Soul Master and obtaining Descending Dive, listening to her does not cause any change in her condition despite that she is not yet hostile.

During these encounters, Bretta is surrounded by orange fog, Sly is surrounded by orange fog and his eyes have also begun to turn orange, and Myla's eyes are glowing but there is no fog around her. So, we can deduce that for as long as the orange fog is present, a bug may still be awoken and cured (Bretta and Sly both show no signs of relapse over the course of the game), but once the fog disappears the bug can no longer be saved by external means.

The "deformation" that the Hunter mentions in the Violent Husk entry refers to the large blobs of Infection that develop on the bodies of creatures that have been infected for a long period of time. We observe these upon the Infected Crossroads enemies, as well as on Hollow and the Moss Prophet. We also see that these Infection tumors can eventually kill bugs once they grow too large and impede bodily functions, just like real cancer: The Moss Prophet and Mossy Vagabonds are all discovered in this state after the Crossroads become infected, as are the Husk Guards in the Crossroads.

So, the progression we can see here is that bugs become infected through their dreams, and while they can initially be woken, if left alone they will fall into too deep a sleep to wake up. Some time after this they will start to move around again but will be hostile to any creatures that are not infected. And, if left in this state for a very long period of time, they will develop tumorous growths which are potentially fatal.

Potentially fatal. This is an interesting contradiction to a basic assumption that most players - and even Ghost and the Hunter - seem to hold about the Infection: That is, that the Infection functions like a pop-culture zombie plague, and infected creatures are all undead (reanimated dead things that can't be killed); thus that the enemies that respawn after resting or going offscreen are the same ones that Ghost just murdered, and have simply been reanimated by the Infection once again.

But infected creatures can die of the Infection. What’s more, bosses and unique instances of generic enemies (such as Myla and the Moss Knight at the pier of Unn’s lake) do not respawn once killed. And it’s definitely not that Ghost killed them that counts: Traitor Lord dies whether Ghost fights him solo or whether Cloth is brought along, in which case she always gets the final blow. This creates the argument that the respawning generics are NOT in fact the same individuals reanimated over and over, but different individuals of the same enemy class, and that their different respawn rates speak to how plentiful those creatures are - small animals respawning faster because a new one will arrive in the recently killed one’s territory sooner, for instance.

Ghost and the Hunter both seem to assume that infected enemies are all undead - many creatures are identified as “husks” or “the remains of [whatever specific bug]” in the Hunter's Journal. But we’ve already established that sometimes Ghost and the Hunter are wrong.

So, if infected creatures aren’t undead, then what are they?

SOURCES:

* I find it a very interesting tidbit of characterization for Ghost that they refer to Radiance as the Light, as native bugs do, rather than calling her the Old Light, as Hallownest bugs did. This has some fascinating implications for where Ghost feels their allegiances to be, but that's neither here nor there right now lol.

** “Ohhh... please... don’t leave me behind! You... forgot about me...? I knew you would... everyone always forgets about me...” - Bretta’s dialogue, Fungal Wastes encounter

*** “...Shining figure...So bright...” - Bretta’s Dream Nail dialogue, Fungal Wastes encounter

**** “...ugghh, Oro you oaf.... You wield your nail... like a club... ...Esmy... how much deeper do we have to go... Oh! What?! Who are you?! ...I see. This old village. What a strange dream, to have led me down here! If you hadn’t found me, I don’t think I would’ve ever woken.” - Sly’s dialogue, Crossroads village encounter

WHAT

In a move very on-brand for Hollow Knight, there’s actually a line from Seer that gives the whole game away - and I mean this incredibly literally, she declares her loyalty to Radiance and says Fuck Hallownest and also hints at what she hopes for from Ghost all in two breaths!! - except that most players are never going to see this line because Seer only says this if you screw up platforming in the Forgotten Dream and yeet yourself off a platform before picking up the Dream Nail.

I do not doubt that I could wring a whole essay out of this one line by itself (and Seer deserves an essay from me so maybe I will), but today the part we’re concerned with is the third line of this dialogue, i.e. how she describes the Dream Nail to Ghost: “The power to wake this world from its slumber[.]”

Its slumber.

The Infection doesn’t only spread through dreams. It is a dream.

To put it in a more meta/video game mechanics sort of way, the Infection is a status ailment. Sleep exists as a common status ailment in RPGs, strategy games, and even some adventure games and platformers. Usually the status ailment of sleep is a mild nuisance that wears off after time, when a character is struck, or if the requisite curative is used; in comparison the Infection is Sleep But Bass Boosted. Appropriate, for a glorified status ailment that’s inflicted by the literal actual god of dreams.

The Infection can only be cured in the very early stages. Once an infected creature has fallen into a coma, there’s no longer any hope of a third party breaking the curse... and also, infected creatures sleepwalk. Violently.

This may also provide an explanation for why mummified bugs in the catacombs have been infected, too: If they were freshly dead and their lingering spirit was still attached enough to their corpses, and that lingering spirit retained enough of a mind to dream...

Aside from those mummified bugs, though, I believe it likely that most if not all of the infected enemies in-game are very, very much alive.

Beyond all the dialogue and lore crumbs pointing to the Infection simply being a cursed sleep, this explanation makes the most sense when thinking about Radiance as a character. She is the literal embodiment of dreams as well as the sun, so inflicting eternal slumber with bonus malignant sleepwalking is a natural extension of her power and a way to use it offensively without being directly violent.

(I've written about this at length elsewhere, but signs point to Radiance having been a pacifist prior to the Pale King’s invasion. Short version: The Moth Tribe were pacifists and Radiance was the center of their culture so it would be odd if she were an exception; she is incapable of inflicting any physical harm whatsoever in a game where lack of contact damage from an active enemy indicates helplessness and such enemies always flee from Ghost unless they have a tool they can use to fight with; her behavior in her boss battles indicates a lack of combat experience, and her nail-generating spells seem to be based on Hollow’s abilities. Real-life adult moths cannot fight - they defend themselves with flight, camouflage, mimicry, and I’m Poisonous So Fuck Off coloring.)

Now, I don’t want to downplay the harm the Infection causes - it doesn’t have to turn bugs into literal undead zombies to be devastating. What we can glean of Hallownest’s ruins suggests that as a state it was heavily dependent on labor to run its industry, so incapacitating the laborers would have turned the whole country on its head, especially because those laborers cannot be woken. The Infection also created an intense atmosphere of terror throughout Hallownest as bugs tried to discover ways to cure it or at least protect themselves. And as the Hunter observes,* because of how the Infection is caused, the harder you try to block Radiance out, the worse the Infection will get.

(A sidebar: Interestingly, the Infection's progress seems to be very slow when a creature willingly accepts it; Moss Prophet has Infection tumors when met but doesn’t die of them until the Crossroads is infected, though many Crossroads bugs are found dead of tumors immediately. Traitor Lord and his followers opted in to the Infection long ago, but Traitor Lord is still at the “orange fog” stage and could theoretically be cured, if he wanted to be. Both Traitor Lord and Moss Prophet are still completely lucid, too.)

Radiance may not have committed any direct violence against Hallownest, but the Infection does incite violence: infected creatures become hostile to and will attack the uninfected. And as we’ve discussed, the Infection itself can become fatal once it’s progressed far enough for tumorous growths to form.

A god smiting the shit out of her people’s oppressors by nonviolently but thoroughly disrupting their kingdom, Especially if that kingdom is a genocidal colonialist slave state,** as a Let My People Go And Leave Me Alone :) ultimatum is not unreasonable. (And Moss Prophet tells us point-blank that literally just listening to Radiance in the first place would have prevented the Infection before it began!) But despite that Hallownest as an institution is unambiguously awful, Hallownest bugs victimized by their own state (such as the maggot slaves and other menial workers) probably saw much less benefit from Hallownest’s genocides than the rich and nobility, and likely deserved the smiting way less than said rich and nobility.

Meanwhile Hallownest’s neighbors - all native nations who are just as much victims of TPK’s bullshit as the Moth Tribe - did not deserve to get caught up in the smiting at all.

Lateral harm in Hollow Knight is another topic that deserves its own essay - and more than that, lots of in-depth conversation! - but, again, that’s not the topic we want to focus on today. I do want to make it clear, though, that infected creatures being alive and theoretically wakeable if the curse should end doesn’t suddenly mean the Infection was actually no big deal. If you want your jimmies rustled, try Dream Nailing enemies that pull from the generic Dream Nail dialogue pool: They are on some level aware that they’re dreaming and can’t wake.***

Clues that the Infection is literally a dream are littered all over the game, from Elderbug’s initial dialogue**** to the name of ending 3, Dream No More - not only named that because that’s the ending where Ghost sacrifices Radiance’s life as well as their own to end Hollow’s suffering rather than only sacrificing their freedom.

Some of what Bardoon and Moss Prophet have to say about the Infection is suggestive of the nature of this dream, though. Moss Prophet appeals to their audience to find unity through the Infection,***** and Bardoon also remarks on this, though he cautions that this comes at the cost of being reduced to instinct.****** Dreaming does tend to come hand in hand with lack of inhibition and suggestibility, but I’m more interested in what Moss Prophet and Bardoon mean by unity, since infected creatures’ thoughts are different depending on what they are and what they were already doing while awake.

There's less specific hard evidence for this aside from how we can observe that Infection blobs are connected to Radiance, transmitting her heartbeat and birthing the Lightseeds, her unintended creations. But given that those blobs do originate from Infection fluid according to the Hunter... Radiance is not just the embodiment of dreams but the heart of THE Dream. So could the Infection be a forcible pseudo-immersion into that capital-D Dream, the Dream Realm itself?

Whether my hunch here is right or not, I can’t in good faith end this essay without bringing all y’all’s attention to absolutely my favorite bit of The Infection Is A Dream foreshadowing: The way multiple parties mention the fact that the Infection smells and tastes sweet.*******

You know... it’s sweet... it’s a sweet dream... get it.........

And now that you can no longer unsee that brilliantly awful pun, I think I'll see myself out!

SOURCES:

* “The infection that swept through Hallownest so long ago... they say that the harder you struggled against it, the more it consumed you.” - Hunter’s commentary, Slobbering Husk Hunter’s Journal entry.

** I’m referring, of course, to the maggots. See: “Weakest members of the kingdom of Hallownest. Generally looked down upon and forced to do menial labour.” (Ghost’s commentary) and “If they try to bargain for their life, just ignore them. They have nothing to offer.” (Hunter’s commentary) from the Maggot Hunter's Journal entry as well as False Knight/Failed Champion’s backstory. Remember also that maggots are the larval form of flies like Sly (you’ll see the resemblance if you compare Sly’s features to the maggot siblings’), meaning Hallownest employs child slavery. In more cheerful news Sly’s backstory must be absolutely goddamn wild.

*** “I’m not...Dead..” “Am I...Sleeping?” “I can’t....Wake up...” - Dream Nail dialogue from generic Hallownest bugs (Wandering Husk, Leaping Husk, Horned Husk, Husk Bully, Husk Warrior) and from God Tamer for some reason

**** “Perhaps dreams aren't such great things after all...” - Elderbug’s initial dialogue

***** “Embrace light! Achieve union!” - Moss Prophet’s dialogue

****** “Theirs is a different kind of unity. Rejection of the Wyrm’s attempt at order. I resist the light’s allure. Union it may offer, but also a mind bereft of thought... To instinct alone a bug is reduced...Hrrm...” - Bardoon’s dialogue (Listen four times, not counting other dialogue flags)

******* “A thick orange mist fills these walking corpses. It has a sweet, sickly taste to it. I find it foul. After you kill these creatures, I suggest you do not eat them.” - Hunter’s commentary, Husk Bully Hunter’s Journal entry, just for one example.

#hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers #hollow knight meta #long post under cut -#essay

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oveliagirlhaditright · 3 years ago

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Information

Another AU about who I thought Swallow could have been for a hot second:)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33528064/chapters/83355316#workskin

"Information is the key to victory," Shiki said, as she prepared to send a message to her friend Rindragon--Rindo—about how she was going to get him out of the Game. "And I have the key right here..." Her key being her darling boyfriend Neku, of course: the only one of them who could eventually interfere to save Rindo, she was pretty sure.

Neku was sitting beside Shiki now—as she prepared to send her text to Neku—as he looked at her past messages from Rindo as worried as she had been, she could tell.

"I'm surprised it took him so long to ask if you were in the UG," Neku remarked, thankfully handing Shiki a cup of coffee right now, since she truly was exhausted from often staying up so late all the time, and trying to find some way to save Rindo.

And in another time and place, Shiki probably would have laughed at Neku’s words and said that not everyone could be as forthright with comments as he was.

But right now, when Shiki worried about her young friend being erased every second of every day, she couldn't even imagine doing that. "…I think he didn't want to face the fact that I might be on one of the other teams, and that he might have to fight me that way,” Shiki remarked now, sending Neku a certain look that he shot back at her, with their eyes locked. “But thankfully, I'm not playing the Game, so hopefully it won't come to that."

"...Except it might, Shiki," Neku said, dropping to his knees now, so Shiki could see his eyes better and see how serious he was here, she presumed. And here, she had to bite back tears… even though she knew Neku was being honest and had her best interests at heart. "You know Rindo’s causing the Plague Noise for Kubo... unknowingly, of course. But if he time travels too much, and the bird Noise becomes beyond us, we might have to try and steal his pin from him... And he may be addicted to it at that point, and put up a fight about it... at which point we'd have to battle him, yeah.

"So...." And Neku was pretty much hiding in the shirt collar he didn't have anymore, Shiki saw, because he hated being out of sync with her and having to tell her such bad news and she could certainly understand that. It made her smile… ever so slightly. "It's best he doesn't know who you are... yet. Maybe later, when we can hopefully get him out. But right now, it could be too much baggage for both of you and mess things up."

Neku was right. Of course he was. Shiki knew it well.

Joshua—after Neku had been murdered by Coco and he'd ended up in the UG again—had been kind to Shiki and offered her the chance to ascend to the Higher Plane, that way she'd actually be able to see Neku, since Josh had plans to keep him him here for years.

And in realizing that it would be her only way to see Neku, Shiki had accepted the offer. Especially since as a low-ranking angel, she knew she could keep her life in the RG, for the most part (it helped that she was the unofficial Producer of this Game), and be with Neku in the UG, without having to be a Reaper and erase Players (Neku right now was pretty much a Player without a Game to play--and Josh had been surprisingly good to keep him that—but he was still a prodigy and probably easily had even more power than she did, Shiki thought).

But since Shiki was an angel, she had some foresight… and she knew that Neku was right, but it still hurt.

"Neku… I really thought things would be simple when I befriended Rindragon,” Shiki admitted, getting out of her chair and standing beside Neku now, so they were truly on the same level and he didn’t have to hurt his knees for her. “You and Beat liked to play Tin Pin Slammer a lot, so I decided to try my hand at a game I might like. And then I met Rindragon and we became fast friends. You know the story.

“But Rindo and I clicked so fast, Neku. Which shows that age is just a number, and you can befriend anyone if you really try... But the boy who sometimes hid in his room from his verbally abusive dad, somehow reminded me of the girl who had hid as Eri. That’s why we connected so fast, I think.

"Rindo's a sweet kid. And we've had so many nice conversations. And he's keeping me hip with the kids... you laugh at me saying that at eighteen,” and Neku was giggling at her some a bit, even though he’d clearly been seriously listening to every word she said before this, and choosing not to interrupt her so she could better tell him her story, “but I do think I'm getting out of touch with the underclassmen's slang so that was another reason it was great to be friends with Rindo,... but now. But now this! It's not fair! It's like what I went through when I first lost you, Neku!"

Neku was gone for just a moment after Shiki said that, to hop back over WildKat's counter (which was where the two of them had taken up shop lately. Everyone thought the place was abandoned, and they didn't correct that idea, so Shiki and Neku were thankfully left alone, as they tried to figure out how to stop the Inversion before it happened here). And he came back with an espresso for her now, in surely realizing she was even more exhausted now, and with a cup with nothing in it (though they would pretend otherwise) for Mr. Mew, who was sitting on the counter.

And at that, Shiki had to laugh.. this felt nice. Gosh, Shiki had almost forgotten how to smile or giggle lately, in worrying so much about someone she saw as a little brother.

And before Shiki knew it, she found herself in Neku's arms as he made his way back over to her: always a good place for her to be, Shiki knew, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world. "I know it's tough, Shiki," Neku promised her, with his lips against her hair now. "But we'll figure it out. I promise."

Shiki had to lean in and kiss Neku's cheek, then—relishing in him trying to cheer her up and this overall feeling. "I know, Neku. Thank you. Because when you and I make promises, nothing stops us, huh? We'll rescue Rindo, and hopefully his friends, as well as Shibuya... I know we will."

And when they eventually did get the Twisters out of the UG together, through all the info they found out on Rindo’s third attempt—and Rindo later remarked how cool it was, that Swallow was an owner of Gatto Nero, who seemed as down to Earth as he was—she would realize just how true that sentiment had been.

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butmakeitgayblog · 5 years ago

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Clarke + Lexa (A Romeo and Juliet AU)

“What is she doing here?”

The air steals from her lungs as her eyes fall to the offender in question, her hand tightening lethally around the stem of her glass. Clarke could do nothing more than clench her jaw painfully as she watched the mortal enemy of her family’s bloodline nod and smirk smugly at a scowling passing stranger.

“I don’t know,” she seethed.

Her heart throbbed with indignant disbelief. Though she shouldn’t have bothered with dubiety at any actions rising from her, knowing quite intimately the ends to which the whole lot would stoop to make a point.

At least she seemed to be alone this time.

“Well I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to have her removed.”

“No, Bellamy,” she said sternly, lifting a hand to the man’s chest to impede his path. “You will not cause a scene.”

“She’s doing well enough of that on her own.” His emphatic gesture drew her attention back to the interloper, feeling a spark of something dark and unbecoming at the way the woman’s eyes traveled along the bust of a party reveler’s gown.

Gritting her jaw at the blatant appreciation, Clarke drew herself up and continued decisively. “I will go speak with her and remind her that she is… not welcomed in these halls. A moment, please.“

Regally squaring her shoulders, Clarke handed her forgotten drink off to a waiter, folding her hands behind her back as she swept across the floor. She felt her stomach tighten in apprehension and annoyance as a twinkling set of green latched onto her instead as though nothing were out of the ordinary as she watched Clarke approach.

Stopping just short of barreling into the self satisfied woman, Clarke expelled an anxious breath of air through her nose as she struggled to restrain herself. “What are you doing here?”

The cheeky grin she registered before receiving a prim bow only served to raise her hackles and internal temperature just that much more.

Straightening, the woman tucked the tips of her fingers into the tight lapel of her posh looking jacket, an air of self indulgence radiating her every word.

“You know how I love a good party.”

“I don’t presume to know what you do and do not enjoy, Ms. Montague.”

Tipping slightly forward, the woman smiled devilishly. “Now, Clarke… We both know that simply is not true.”

Feeling the flush explode across the apples of her cheeks at her regret of her choice of words, Clarke’s eyes darted around to register those whose steely gazes lingered on them through the exchange. “You have to go, Lexa. They’re already unhappy with your presence here.”

“Fortunate for us all that I am not here for their enjoyment, is it not?”

“Lexa-”

“You lot can be unbearably no fun when you want to be… Very well,” she conceded airily, holding her hand up in a show of surrender. “If you say I must go, then I shall leave.”

“Tha-”

“But it will be you who must show me out… If for nothing other than to save us both a scene at the rough hands of others.”

Words dying on her tongue, Clarke floundered a moment, miffed with herself for not having seen that coming. She knew the games, the never ending battle of wit between them quite well enough by now. How she’d walked right into that checkmate of reasoning…

Eyes doing a final lap of the ballroom, Clarke nodded discreetly as she stepped forward and gripped Lexa by the arm. “Do not make this worse than it already-”

“Unhand me!” Lexa exclaimed with a smile as she very much willingly allowed herself to be dragged from the room.

Rolling her eyes deeply, Clarke realized she should’ve seen that coming too.

___________________________________

“Why must you do this every time?” Clarke sighed and then moaned, hands gripping fistfuls of brunette locks as lips trailed over the swell of her breasts.

“My eyes screamed for the chance to see you in this gown, what would you have me do,” Lexa mumbled into the giving flesh. “When I spied it hanging in your chambers, I knew neither God nor the stars above could stop me from making an appearance.”

Grunting annoyedly, Clarke gently pulled the woman back up, cupping her jaw as she panted against kiss bruised lips. “You can’t keep doing these things. They’re going to hurt you one day-”

“I’d very much like to see them try,” Lexa grinned roguishly, her chin lifting defiantly as her hands continued to wander.

“Why must you tantalize them with offerings of conflict?” Clarke asked between pulls from primrose and champagne bubbled lips. “So I or you both may be caught in the crossfire? You’re perfectly content with such thoughts, Lexa?… My family, like yours,” she emphasized for what felt like the hundredth time, “have generations of hatred between them-”

“And yet I love you… With every breath of my lungs.”

Melting into the woman currently pinning her to the wall of the small drawing room, Clarke rested her forehead against her lover’s, needing a moment to clear her mind from the words and suppleness of her kiss. “… This peace, this truce… it is fragile… If they begin warring again-”

“I will side with you,” Lexa pulled back with a small serene smile. “The absolution of that you must hold within your heart, Clarke. The surety of my love and devotion… The sun will rise each morning, the tide will surge and retreat, and I will denounce the very sound of my name, rather than live a life without you.”

“You cannot say such things,” Clarke whispered with pained solemnity, hands cupping the face looking upon her in adoration. “I will not survive should anything happen to keep you from me. And they would plunge heaven and earth asunder at the very whisperings of you and me.”

“That will not happen… My heart is yours. Nothing beyond that matters.”

“Your family-”

“Is stubborn,” Lexa cut in softly, trailing fingers over the cleft of her jaw and chin. “And foolish. And blind for not seeing how beautiful the vowels and consonants the name Capulet can feel upon the tongue.”

Clarke could only fall deeper into the woman, shuddering with baited breath with each declaration, touch, and kiss.

“We will wait for our time. For when I am the head of house and crest… And when that day comes? Family name will no longer matter… As yours and mine will be the same-”

Lexa’s words cut off as their lips crashed together. Strong hands ever steadying as Clarke’s heart swelled beyond her ribs, beyond her body, at the promise and need to reciprocate in kind. She very nearly wanted to cry with it all, imagining a someday that only felt real within the safety of those arms.

And then she heard a knock.

A small gasp burst from her lips as she pulled back with a pop.

They stood frozen, staring flushed and slack jawed at each other for the longest beat of a moment. A smirk began to pull at the edges of plump lips, blue eyes flashing dangerously in warning to whatever ridiculous thought was playing through that infuriatingly gorgeous mind.

A second knock sounded, effectively kicking Clarke’s brain into action. “Go,” she whispered in a frantic rush, unceremoniously shoving Lexa toward the window. “Go, go, go.”

“Ow,” Lexa chuckled under her breath, steps stumbling across the room under urgent hands. “Here I stand dousing you in sweet nothings of devotion, and I receive naught but a boot to the backside in return.”

“You’ll receive much more to your backside if they find you locked away with me,” Clarke hissed, flipping the latch and throwing open the window. “Now go.”

“What? No farewell kiss to tide me and my aching heart over?”

“Lexa,” she grumbled, fisting a hand to the front of her velveted jacket, feeling the stiff embroidered stitching of the Montague crest that stood as a bane on her heart and happiness. She smashed their lips together for a fraction of a second, resolutely ignoring the vibrating laughter against her mouth.

“My word,” Lexa grinned when Clarke pulled away. “Contain yourself, m'lady.”

Huffing quietly, Clarke pushed her to the edge of the sill, holding one hand to steady the woman as she lifted herself over to the ground outside. “The garden should be clear of the party by now, take the rose path to the servant gate. Now, go-”

“Wait,” Lexa interrupted, hands landing on the door of the window to stop it before it could close. “… Shall I come to you tonight?”

“Lexa.”

“Honorably, of course. If only to help free you from the intricacies of your gown.”

Snorting indelicately at that blatant lie, Clarke shook her head. “My dress? I’m sure.”

“If the occasion should arise that you require my hands in other matters?” Lexa whispered into the air between them, leaning until their lips were a mere breath apart, “I would joyously be at your service… However you should need me.”

The sigh escaped her before she knew what she was doing, neck stretching forward to chase the mischievous smirk as it danced just out of her reach.

“Tonight, my love,” Lexa grinned, releasing her hands from the window and beginning to walk backwards toward the path.

Correcting herself from where she had swayed in pursuit of contact, Clarke glared at the glinting green eyes that shone brightly under the hang of the moon. “You will be the death of me.”

“Strange. Within me, you breathe only life.”

Rolling her eyes at the saccharine words, Clarke shook her head and eased the windows closed. “Goodnight, Lexa.”

“Until tonight,” she emphasized through the darkness that had already fallen, finally turning away at the edge of the small grassy patch that lined the sprawling home to take off down the path as Clarke had instructed.

As she snapped shut the latch on the folded shut window, voices filtered in from the hall to her ears. “Clarke?” came the call along with another knock before the handle turned and a head looked in. “There you are,” Bellamy breathed a disgruntled sigh of relief. “Octavia, she’s here.”

“Where have you been?” the younger Blake sibling demanded lightly as she hustled past her brother in the doorway. “We’ve been searching for ages. Why are you hiding in here? What did that wretched girl do?”

“What?” Clarke asked, feeling a slice of anger at the descriptor. “She did nothing. I asked her to leave and she did.”

“Then why the lack of answer when we first passed this room?”

“Not that you are owed an answer from me,” Clarke frowned, drawing herself up with a haughty air of elegance, “but I wished to take a moment for myself. These parties are taxing on the sensibilities as it is… An… annoyance such as that woman’s presence only adds to my distaste for it all.”

She felt sick at the words, the lies coating her mouth thicker and more acridly than normal with the ghost of soft lips and hands still fresh on her skin. She loathed the mantle of feud defined propriety she was forced to maintain. But life was what it was. And her name was unerringly Capulet, so the lies were a hideous necessity to her life, as well as the safety of the fleeing figure who commanded the very beat of her heart.

A hand softly landed on her arm, her gaze shifting up to caring brown eyes. “I’m sorry the party was ruined by her, I knew I should have stepped in myself.”

“Don’t be silly, Bellamy,” she lightly assured, patting his hand warmly before pulling away toward the door. “She is nothing I cannot handle.” Clarke’s heart tripped over that decidedly more pleasant falsehood, smiling to herself at the cunning, sharp face smirking frustratingly within her mind’s eye.

“Well, let us all forget that unpleasantness for the time being and try to enjoy the party,” Bellamy said jovially as the siblings followed shortly behind her out into the hall.

“Yes, let us enjoy what’s left of the festivities.”

“I have a feeling the night is going to turn out much more pleasurable than we’d originally anticipated.”

Clarke didn’t bother to temper her smile at the man’s offhand statement as they reentered the great hall.

‘Yes… More pleasurable indeed.’

#Clexaweek2020 #Clexaweek2020 Day 1 #Day 1 Forbidden Love #Clexa fic #Clexa au #Clarke x Lexa #just a little nothin #romeo and juliet au

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houseofsannae · 3 years ago

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A Fistful of Munny - Extended End Notes

Notes for A Fistful of Munny that don’t fit within the character limit under the cut!

Please, read the fic before reading this post

All right! Welcome to the extended notes, in which I go into excruciating detail over a bunch of stuff that doesn’t matter, because I like the sound of my own voice!

Let’s start with some more broad stuff that didn’t make the exclusive end notes space. To do the Fistful of Dollars homage, I needed a place where I could have two villainous factions intersecting for Strelitzia to play against one another. After some brainstorming and asking for help from other people working on the Entwined in Trine Sorikai zine (and ultimately ignoring all their very good suggestions (Sorry, guys!)), I eventually realized that the Wasteland from Epic Mickey was a perfect place for this story, both in the sense of having mooks to destroy without Strels committing actual murder, and in the thematic sense of forgotten characters. There was just one issue.

I hadn’t played Epic Mickey.

And that is how I spent my summer, playing both Epic Mickey games. Both, because I was looking for a good location to set the story in in-world. Since the Wasteland is based on the Disney theme parks, I was hoping to find one based on Frontierland, their Western section. Such a location did exist – Disney Gulch – but only in the second game. Which meant I had to play Epic Mickey 2, as well. (The first one is a better game, but that’s not really the fault of the developers; they were not given the time they needed to make it as good as the first one. Here’s a video with trivia about the series that goes a little into the development.) I also needed to learn the Mad Doctor’s ultimate fate, since I wanted his Beetleworx/Blotworx to be one of the two villainous factions. In the game, depending on whether you chose the Paint (Paragon) or Thinner (Renegade) path, the Doc is either redeemed… or dead. Neither of which was helpful, so I had to invent.

But let’s talk about characters and why I picked them in order. The short version for why these choices, at least on the Final Fantasy side, is set-up for later. Obviously I can’t go into detail why. Before that, let’s talk about the Beanie Baby.

Chi is, as I hope you were able to guess, Strelitzia’s Chirithy. I’ve brought it up several times, but I personally do not like mascot characters. There are a few exceptions, but Chirithies are not one of them. Like I said, KHUx isn’t what happened in this AU, so you’ll have to wait for in-universe answers on why it’s a cat now. Out-of-universe reason is this was the only way I could make it palatable for myself. I arbitrarily decided on a gender for it because as a real cat, it would have a sex. Canonically Chirithies appear to be genderless, and in Japanese refer to themselves with the gender-neutral (but masculine-leaning) boku. I would’ve left Chi that way, save for the fact that he’s a completely normal cat now. (And before you ask, no, not every real cat that appears in KHΨ from this point on is a Chirithy.)

As for Strelitzia herself, it’s hard for me to pick up a character’s voice when they’re… not voiced. Intonation and cadence do a lot for me mimicking the way a character talks, so it’s a bit more difficult when they don’t technically speak. I tried for a mix between Sora and Kairi, while still keeping her defining character traits of being shy, but also impulsive.

You may notice that while she’s started remembering faces, if not names, the Player’s name and face still eludes her, despite her (canonical. Deal with it.) crush on them. There is a story reason for this, and will become clear once Luxu takes centre stage.

The name “Jane” was chosen with more consideration than just “Jane Doe” being the standard name in (at least my corner of) the English-speaking world for a woman of unknown identity. See, the Man With No Name actually has three names. In A Fistful of Dollars, he is referred to (by one character in one scene, once) as “Joe”. “Joan” might have been a more clear homage, but I figure Jane makes sense. And as you might guess, in the next fic, Strels will be going by a different name, still not her own. She’ll remember her name… eventually.

One might think I could’ve picked any old Cid, and one would be wrong for reasons I can’t explain yet. In fact, I can’t explain much of anything surrounding him yet. What I can say is no, Cidney Aurum is not dead, she’s just not related to Cid Sophiar in this fic verse. An unfortunate consequence of where I wanted to put each of them in the narrative; making them not be related was the only way it made any sense, geographically speaking.

Hyperion on the other hand, I can talk about. He’s one of the Gremlins in Epic Mickey, and… wait, first things first. Gremlins are from an abandoned Disney film based on a Roald Dahl book, itself based on the cryptids that supposedly haunted airplanes and caused them to malfunction, the earliest known written-down mention of the concept being from the 1920s. The film never got made, but the designs Disney would have used were adapted into a second printing of Dahl’s book, and they were later used in Epic Mickey. Hyperion is, like the publishing imprint that Disney owns, named after a street that Walt Disney used to live on. In-game, Hyperion is in Bog Easy (based on the Haunted Mansion), not Disney Gulch, but his name stuck out to me as being particularly fun, so I picked him instead of trying to figure out what Gremlins actually are in the Gulch (they have names in the files of Epic Mickey 2, but not in the actual game, so it would have been a hunt).

Regardless of where the setting ended up, for the second villainous faction, I was always going to plop down the good old Don. More things I can’t talk about. For everything FF7, know that I’m always going to be pulling from a mix of the original game, Remake, and Machinabridged. Hence, Corneo’s outfit is a mix of his original and Remake designs (which basically just means he’s wearing blue jeans instead of brown). I didn’t think bringing in his three lieutenants from Remake was necessary, especially since this was supposed to be a kind-of small operation.

Leslie is picked up and dropped from Remake pretty much unchanged. I needed someone to do the murders Strels couldn’t, and even if he’s not a complete asshole, he’s still mostly an asshole. Have we ever seen small, Materia-like balls used to cast magic before…?

Onto the fun bits, which is the Disney characters. We’ll start with Percy, who is from a Goofy short called “How to Ride a Horse”, from 1950. And that’s about it. The conceit in Wasteland is that all of the Toons there were basically actors, and they wound up in Wasteland if they were forgotten (that’s not exactly correct, but I’m generalizing). This is interesting, since two of the Toons in Epic Mickey are Horace Horsecollar and Clarabelle Cow, both of whom… are residents of Disney Town in Kingdom Hearts, having shown up in Birth by Sleep. So that’s an interesting continuity snarl that I’m going to just ignore.

Persephone and Pluto, on the other hand, are from an earlier short called “The Goddess of Spring”, from 1934. It was one of the projects Disney tried as practice for Snow White. If you’re about to protest that his name should be Hades, not Pluto, then you’re going to need a time machine so you can tell them back in the 30s. The Goddess of Spring is a musical, in the sense that every single line is sung. Watch it for yourself. There’s a video with better quality floating around YouTube, but for some reason it’s the French dub. And that’s why both of them sing most of their lines. I tried matching the meter of their actual parts, but Persephone’s doesn’t actually follow a syllabic pattern that I could make out. I eventually gave up and just gave her the meter from the start of the short. Pluto’s was easier to manage (and more consistent).

The skeletons are Disney veterans, presumably the same ones from “The Skeleton Dance” (1929), but more specifically they’re mimicking what they did in “The Mad Doctor” (1933), the first appearance of our other villain. They’re fun.

The original Mad Doctor was supposedly named “Dr. XXX”, according to the name on his door. This was before the modern film rating system was put in place; it was a different time. In the original short, the Mad Doctor kidnaps Pluto (the dog) with the intent of cutting him in half and putting his front half on a chicken For Science!, and Mickey follows him to his castle to rescue the purloined pooch. The short wasn’t a musical in the same vein as “The Goddess of Spring”, but… the Mad Doctor’s only spoken lines were a song (aside from evil cackling). While I had already decided to do the “Toons that sang in their short can only communicate through song” with Persephone and Pluto before starting on Epic Mickey 2, I hilariously discovered that the game developers had done the exact same gag with the Mad Doctor, most of his lines in the game being sung. (In Epic Mickey there were no fully voiced lines, so he speaks as normally as anyone else does). Which made it easier to write his songs here, since I could just rewrite his songs from the game. I used to write alternate lyrics for songs back in high school, so this was an interesting trip back in time for me. They were stuck in my head for weeks afterwards, but it was worth it.

I believe that’s everything for the characters. Let’s talk about Keyblades.

It irks me that three people in KHUx have the same Keyblade. Ephemer, Skuld, and Strelitzia all have variations of Starlight. Now, in KHΨ, there is only one Starlight, and it belongs to Luxu, so I’m going to have to decide on different Keyblades for each of them. (Ephemer’s has already been decided, and I haven’t started brainstorming for Skuld yet. No I do not need suggestions, thank you). Pixie Petal bears a noted (by KHWiki) resemblance to one of Marluxia’s alternate scythes, so that tangential connection was enough for me. Both siblings have flower-themed Keyblades – it makes sense to me.

You might notice a few disparities in the magic. These are on purpose, and will eventually make sense. And that’s all I can say on that at the moment. ;)

Oh, yes, one important thing I probably should have said on the main notes: I’m not going for a realistic depiction of amnesia here. Anything I got right was entirely accidental, and I’m fairly certain there’s not much. There might be a story reason for why it works the way it does… and it might be the same reason why other people from KHUx have or had amnesia in the present day…

You know what’s funny? Although Orcuses look more impressive than Invisibles, their stats in Days are actually worse. I’m fairly sure that this is because the only time we see an Orcus, it’s actually an illusion cast over Xion so that Roxas will fight her to the death. There are no other stats for them (according to KHWiki), since they’ve never been used elsewhere.

A friendly reminder that Apprentice Xehanort invented the term “Heartless”, which was why Aqua didn’t know what to call them until Mickey told her. Thus, nobody from the era of the Keyblade War should know the term “Heartless” without being told by someone in present day. “Darkling” was the term they used instead. I’m fairly certain KHUx ignores the continuity on this (so why should we trust its continuity for anything else, hmm?)

I think that covers everything! Or at least everything I’m willing to share at this point. If you’ve read this far, thank you! I appreciate your dedication! ^_^

#kingdom hearts Ψ #fanfic #kingdom hearts #strelitzia #fic notes #a fistful of munny

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theshopislocal · 4 years ago

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corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter eight

Funnily enough, the wings in Heaven aren’t anything to write home about.

Dean glances down at his half-eaten lunch, licking Buffalo sauce off the side of his thumb. He’s pretty sure the plate - with its lopsided tower of wings, side of celery, and little cup of chunky bleu cheese - is meant to replicate one he’d had at a greasy spoon sixty odd years ago. To the naked eye, the place had looked like a shithole - just another offramp dive in B.F.E., Nebraska. But the wings - damn, the wings - had been out of this world; crunchy and greasy, sour and salty, and drenched in sauce hot enough to make his eyes water.

Dean sucks his teeth and grimaces. He’s not sure what it is, but Heaven missed the mark on this one. He’s sure it’s the same recipe as the roadside joint, but there’s something not quite right. It certainly doesn’t help that his pint glass keeps automagically refilling with Stella Artois instead of El Sol. He grumbles with every sip and pretends like the mild flavor isn’t growing on him. No way in hell is he letting Charlie turn him onto her trendy lesbian beer.

“Hey.”

Dean’s head snaps up, shoulders going tense. They loosen a bit as Sam slides into the other side of the booth. He’s wearing a denim button-down that Dean’s pretty sure was one of his, and his stupid hair is extra floppy. He slides his dorky messenger bag off his shoulder, settling it at his side.

Dean knocks back the rest of his beer in a thick swallow and sets his little cardboard coaster on the rim. “Heya.”

Sam gives him a smile, all white teeth and deep dimples. Dean tries to give him one back, but it feels more like a grimace on his face.

Sam notices, of course. “You alright?” he asks, dipping his head to meet Dean’s lowered eyes.

Dean shakes his head, then corrects it to a nod. “Yeah,” he grunts and nods toward his plate. “Ate too many wings.”

Sam’s eyebrows climb his forehead, smile going crooked. “Didn’t think that was possible for you.”

Dean splays his hands in a shrug. “I contain multitudes.”

His stomach chooses that moment to grumble ominously, and Dean hunches forward, pressing his forearm across his belly.

Sam, the little shit, smirks wide. “I’m sure.”

Dean rolls his eyes and reaches for his glass. He tips the little coaster off and watches as the glass refills itself. It’s a darker orange-ish color now, rather than light blonde. He takes an experimental sniff: El Sol, this time. He feigns relief in case anyone’s looking (no one is), and peers back up at Sam.

He’s holding the little laminated sample menu, eying over it while his fingers drum a beat against the tabletop. He chews his lips, eyes a little wide, and Dean recognizes the expression in an instant: Sam is Up To Something.

Dean sighs and sets his beer down with a thunk. “What.”

Sam’s head pops up like a frickin’ meerkat, all innocence and feigned confusion. “What what?”

Dean arches an eyebrow in a glare. “You’ve got excited puppy face,” he grumbles and ignores Sam’s snort. “What is it.”

Sam huffs a fake laugh and shakes his head. “I don’t...” he starts, then cuts a considering look at Dean. Dean stares back, blank-faced and expectant, and Sam blows out a sigh, eyes downcast. “Yeah, okay. Look, I was—” he cuts himself off, pulling his lip through his teeth. “... I was thinking about Cas.”

Cas.

Dean probably should have seen that coming.

Sam had been rather circumspect in those few months between Cas’ death and Dean’s own; no offhand utterances of his name, no needling questions about how exactly Cas had summoned the Empty, no mention whatsoever of the bedroom door he’d often found Dean stood in front of - unable to open, unable to turn away.

Sam had been kind in his silence.

But if Dean knows Sam at all - and he certainly does - the silence wouldn’t have lasted forever. Kid’s too smart, too curious, too empathetic by half; sooner or later, he would’ve broached the subject - for Dean’s sake, if not his own.

And if Dean’s being entirely honest with himself - which, frankly, isn’t really his game - he can acknowledge the inherent unfairness of it. For all Dean prefers to bottle things up until they ferment in his belly, Sam is (somehow) a well-adjusted adult with proportionate emotional intelligence to boot. Sam had deserved to mourn Cas - whether or not Dean had allowed himself to do the same - and Dean hadn’t let him.

So, of course Sam is thinking about Cas. After all, he’d loved him nearly as much as—

Dean winces hard, eyes squeezing shut for half a second. “Yeah?” he asks. His eyes flick back open, and he stares down at his plate. The wings have gone cold, the celery warm and floppy.

Sam nods. “Yeah. I mean,” he gestures vaguely with the little menu, “Eileen says he does a lot of work for the Arch, but...” He trails off for a short moment then shrugs. “We’ve been here for a while. I sorta figured he would’ve... dropped in by now?”

I’ve been busy.

I have responsibilities.

I’m needed elsewhere.

I’m sor—

Dean hunches forward, and his stomach grumbles again. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and he feels nauseated, hollow. Too many wings, indeed.

Sam tilts his head in a crooked nod. “Yeah, it’s kinda weird that he hasn’t, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response, and Dean doesn’t interject. “So,” he goes on, leaning forward across the table, “I did a little digging.”

Dean’s head pops up, and he finally meets Sam’s eye. Sam’s brow is raised, the puppy expression back at full volume. Dean frowns, wary. “Digging?”

Sam nods excitedly and turns to his bag. He unzips it, sticking in a freakishly large hand to rummage about, and pulls out a thick book.

A beige leather book. With gold insignia on the spine.

“I checked this out,” he says and sets the book on the table with a soft thunk, “from the Library.”

Wait. What? “You- the Library?” Is Charlie making magic plutonium bombs for everyone now? “How’d you get in?”

Sam gives him a funny look, squinty-eyed and confused. “I made an appointment.”

Of course he did. “Right,” Dean grunts, folding his arms on the edge of the table.

Sam leans closer, and he smiles almost comically wide. “Dean, the Library? It’s awesome,” he gushes, and Dean chews on a smile. “They’ve got everything ever written ever,” Sam crows. “Literally every single—”

“Kevin sign you up for a library card?” Dean interjects with a crooked smile.

Sam’s face freezes, eyes darting away in mild embarrassment, and Dean snorts a startled laugh. “You’re shittin’ me.”

Sam rolls his eyes around a tiny smile. “Shut up.”

Dean gives a bark of laughter. “Man, you’re a nerd.”

“Anyway,” Sam says and gives Dean a mild glare. “This,” he begins, smoothing a palm over the front of the book, “is the history of Heaven. Since Jack remade it.”

Dean cranes his neck to read the upside down lettering, and Sam turns the book toward him.

Recens Historia Caelorum Vol. I.

Dean frowns and gives a little shrug. “Okay.”

Sam nods and sucks in a breath, one hand coming up to tuck his hair behind his ear. Dean’s eyes soften at the gesture; for all he’d wanted to be a lawyer, or a hunter, or a freakin’ superhero, Sam had always been a Man of Letters at heart.

Sam plants his hands flat on the table - the final step of his pre-lore ritual - and Dean suppresses a smile. “Okay, so,” Sam starts, and Dean settles in. “Basically, Jack arrives in heaven with the seraph Castiel.” Seraph? “Presumably, he—”

“Pulled him out of the Empty,” Dean offers.

“And restored his Grace,” Sam nods. “So. They get here and start fixin’ the place up. Opening up all the personal heavens, getting rid of the whole greatest hits shtick, right?” Dean nods along; Bobby had told him this much. “Then, get this,” Sam continues, leaning ever further forward, “Jack leaves.”

Dean frowns, and his eyes flick up from where they’d been staring sightlessly at the book cover. He shakes his head, lips pursing. “He leaves?”

Sam quirks a brow and tips his chin down in a nod. “Yeah. Apparently he decided he wanted to rebuild all the universes Chuck destroyed. Not just ours.”

Dean’s eyebrows pop up, and he feels a sort of mild, obligatory guilt uncurl in his stomach. Frankly, he’d all but forgotten about the infinite other universes that Chuck - in his epic, cosmic bitch fit - had dusted just for kicks.

Dean shakes his head. “Shit.”

Sam huffs a laugh. “Yeah. But,” he says and raises a forefinger, “Heaven’s not finished.” He makes a vague gesture towards the nearby window overlooking the forest. “Still isn’t.”

And Dean’s noticed that, too. Spending hours (or minutes, or maybe decades) on the highway, Dean’s come across some odd spots: places where the grass is un-trampled and a little too green, the ground too flat, the trees too young. Whenever he passes one, he gets a strange feeling, like he’s watching a silent movie, or staring at a blank canvas. He feels it at his little bunker out in the greyscale marsh, and he felt it at the tiny forest in the endless yellow field. Like a song without a refrain, something is missing - unfinished.

“So,” Sam goes on, and Dean glances back up at him, shaking off the odd sensation, “Jack’s gotta leave someone in charge of the place, right?” Sam pauses for a moment, brow raised, and Dean nods belatedly. “Right,” he continues. “But it’s gotta be someone who knows Heaven’s ins and outs. Someone who can defend its weak points. Someone who actually—” Sam tilts his head with a dry smile, “—cares about its inhabitants.” He gives Dean an expectant look, brow raised and lips sucked in.

Dean frowns. Someone who understands Heaven and knows how to protect it; an angel, certainly - maybe a strategist or a soldier. But someone compassionate, too - someone devoted the people here, these wandering wayward souls.

Because you cared, I cared.

Dean blinks hard - once, twice - and something rattles in his chest. “Cas,” he whispers.

Sam gives a slow nod. “Right,” he murmurs back, face going oddly soft. Dean frowns up at him, and Sam schools his expression back into business mode. “Right,” he repeats and licks his lip. “Problem is, Cas is just a seraph. He doesn’t have the juice to run this place. So, Jack—” He reaches across the table for the book and turns it towards himself, flipping it open to a page bookmarked with a gold ribbon. He smoothes his pointer finger over a line of text and reads, “—imbued the grace of Castiel with His divinity, in excess.”

Jack imbued... what?

Dean shakes his head. “The hell does that mean?”

Sam tilts his head in a crooked nod and flips to the next page. “I was confused too,” he offers, “until I read this.” He flips the book toward Dean and taps two fingers over a block of text near the top of the page.

Dean frowns and looks down, squinting at the small font. The top left corner reads Chapter XV, the text near Sam’s finger marked with a tiny superscript, 21.

Dean hunches forward, eyes tracing over the words in the dim light.

And the Lord God summoned into His hands four blades, twisted and golden, hilted in black. He cast His holy gaze upon them, and they were dissolved. Let all instruments return to dust, as all mortal flesh keeps silent.

Dean rereads the words, and rereads them again. Something is growing in the back of his mind, spreading against the inside of his skull like feathered shadows—

“Four knives with twisted gold blades,” Sam posits, leaning forward. “Sound familiar?”

I’m not just powerful now, Lucifer had said, beating Dean bloody, suspended in the air. I am power. And I don’t need a blade to end you, pal.

Dean had clung to the last vestiges of consciousness, had felt his destiny - Chuck’s shitty Joseph Campbell knockoff - rising to meet him. Sam had called his name, all fear and desperation, and Dean had extended a bruise-knuckled hand to catch—

“The Archangel blade,” Dean whispers.

Sam gives a solemn nod and taps his finger on the page. “Jack destroyed them - all of them - the same day he—” Sam angles the book towards himself and turns back a page, neck craning around, “—imbued Cas’ Grace.”

Dean feels his spine go stiff, brow furrowing low.

“Dean,” Sam murmurs, “I don’t think Cas is a Seraph any more.”

Jack has put a great deal of faith in me. Cas’ voice echoes through Dean’s head, and his jaw clenches tight, throat constricting.

Sam continues, voice pitched low. “And I don’t think he just... works for the Arch.”

I have responsibilities, Cas had said, just before his wings had painted stark shadows on the walls. Massive and fluttering, they’d shifted Cas’ posture, like he wasn’t quite used to them, their heft a foreign weight at his back.

Dean had known in that moment that something was different, had felt it in the buzzing electricity of Cas’ presence, the way the little hairs on Dean’s arms had stood up.

Dean swallows, hard and dry, and says simply, “He is the Arch.”

Sam raises his eyebrows and hums. “Mm. The Arch...” he shrugs with bemused smile, “...angel.”

Dean blinks several times in succession, eyes falling back to the bookmarked page. Let all instruments return to dust, as all mortal flesh keeps silent.

Cas is an archangel - the Archangel - immortal and adamantine, now that God himself has destroyed his only weakness. And Dean is an eternal soul, freed from the bonds of his mortal body - limitless and enduring in the endless expanse of Heaven. They’re stood now on evener ground than they’ve ever been before.

Dean glances towards the window, casting his eyes out to the distant mountain - jutting up from the ground, imposing and unscalable like a border wall.

Sam huffs a short laugh. “Explains why he hasn’t stopped by for a beer.”

Dean turns back toward his brother, but Sam’s eyes are fixed on the little plastic menu.

Dean harrumphs - sharper than intended from the tightness in his throat - and reaches for his beer. His stomach grumbles as he takes a gulping pull. It’s skunky and flat, bitter and watery, and he doesn’t taste anything at all.

chapter seven | chapter nine

table of contents

#corinth rains #destiel #deancas #fanfiction #post-canon #slow burn #dean-centric #tw: alcohol

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harringtonheartache · 5 years ago

Text

Daybreak | Part Two

Part Three

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part two of this fic. A less eventful chapter but a necessary one! Next part will be super fun n’ cute (-:

Word Count: 2,900+

Warning(s): Cussing

A/N: Here ya go! P.S. When I described Steve’s room I took from what little we saw of it in S1 + added some details of my own. I included the The Smiths poster because their debut album came out around the time of ST (1984) and I love their music & would like to think Steve would enjoy it too. & yes Queen and Joy Division are based on my own music taste as well.

“Okay, so this is my room,” he told her as he welcomed her into his bedroom with grand exclamation. “You can have my bed, I don’t mind the floor,” he said as he gathered a spare pillow and blanket from his closet. They were folded nicely, the work of his mother most likely. Disregardful of their neat composure, he tossed the bedding to the floor. She stared at her proposed sleeping arrangement for the night. His bed was double in size compared to what she was used to, presumably offering greater comfort as well. “I promise the sheets are clean,” he spoke up at her apparent reluctance. Her head moved swiftly in his direction, and he stood with a look of utmost sincerity. “Okay,” she told him. She wanted to thank him again, but did not allow herself when his attention fell from her and he went about setting up his own bed for the night.

She climbed on top of the surrendered piece of furniture, feeling the cushioned fabric beneath her as she did so. Her assumptions were correct, it was much nicer than her bunk at the lab.

“So tomorrow I have to go to school,” Steve said, bringing up a topic of conversation that needed discussing before they could sleep.

“School?”

“Yeah, it’s where people go to learn. I have to leave at 7 in the morning, and you can’t come with me, but I will be back by 3.” The panic returned. As much as she thought herself someone to take comfort in solitude, she knew herself someone to fear such a thing in unfamiliar environments.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be back. You can sleep the entire time I’m gone if you want, I won’t be that long. But you have to stay in this room. My mom will be home and she can’t know you’re here, remember?”

There were too many holes in the plan. “What if she comes upstairs?” Upstairs was supposed to be her hideaway.

“Um,” Steve returned to a place of deep consideration and planning. “Here,” he said. He moved the upper half of his body forward, partially abandoning his makeshift bed to reach underneath the one 009 sat upon. His hands emerged with a few belongings: a sweatshirt, one shoe, and an old backpack. He tossed these forgotten items in the direction of his closet, although they fell short of full entry.

“If you hear anyone come upstairs, hide under here,” he spoke again, confidence in his own scheme restored.

She gave him an inquisitive look. “Under the bed?” she questioned.

“Yes. I would tell you to hide in the closet but if she comes into my room she is probably putting clothes away in there. So, if you hear anything just go under the bed. There’s lots of room, it’s not that bad, and you probably won’t even have to. My mom doesn’t come in my room that much.” That much. To her, that sounded like a game of chance she didn’t care to participate in, but she complied nonetheless as she was grateful for anywhere to hide.

“Okay, under the bed.”

A procedure ready to be followed, spoken and memorized through one conversation.

“Oh, shit,” Steve exclaimed softly, mostly to himself. Standing from his place on the floor, he moved to find the door handle. With a small click, he locked it. The girl watched this action as he performed it much to her consternation. He began to settle himself again but was not able to completely do so without noticing her concern. “Oh, I-,” he started, “I’m not locking you in, I just don’t want my parents walking in here while we’re asleep. You can just turn that small lock on the knob to the right and it will unlock.” He explained this, his tone benevolent. She was appreciative of this clarification, and filed his thoughtful instructions away in her head for possible future reference. A smile was offered in response.

A few minutes passed, the lights no longer illuminating the entire room. Steve’s thoughtful nature did not end with the door lock however, as he left his desk lamp on to rid the girl of any worries pure darkness may have brought. They laid in their respective beds, 009 tucked under Steve’s own comforter that smelled pleasantly of him. It was a strange occurrence for her - sleeping in a bed that smelled of someone else. The scent became comforting; it served as a reminder that she was not sleeping in the same bed she had been in all of one night ago. She was not at the lab. “Hey, Steve?” she was ready to give him the thank-you she intended to give him earlier. He didn’t pause long before offering her a small hmm? to let her know he was listening, but long enough to take recognition of her first use of his name.

“Thank you”.

---

“Shit, where the hell- Are you kidding me I just- shit.” Steve’s thoughts dropped out of his mouth, loudly enough to wake up 009. She sat up quickly, a small gasp leaving her mouth; a gasp she hoped Steve didn’t hear once she realized where she was. Terror was still engraved into her mind, and it would take more than one night of sleeping safely for her to rid herself of this feeling. It had become her daily ritual to fear whomever she would face first thing in the morning.

“Oh, hey. Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up. Have you seen my- what the hell am I saying no you haven’t seen my backp- wait it’s in the car. Right?” He now spoke with a whisper to his tone. As opposed to last night, they were not entirely alone anymore. His parents were now home, and he couldn’t be heard talking to a person they weren’t supposed to know was there.

“Hey yesterday - in the car - did you happen to see a backpack in there?” She blinked a few times in substitution for a response. She had not yet fully returned to Steve’s bedroom from her state of sleep, or from her morning delusion that landed her momentarily in the lab. “I- I don’t know,” She now responded, but her answer did not help him any more than her silence had.

“Shit, well, I hope it’s in there.” He gave up on his bedroom search and now passed his attention to the task of putting on his shoes. “I’ll be back in a few hours, by 3:00, okay? There's a clock on my nightstand so you will know what time it is. And uh, remember your hiding spot if you hear anyone coming upstairs.” He told her these things with quickness to his words. She heard every one though, and chose to say “okay,” when she realized he was focused on tying his shoes and would not see her nod her head ‘yes’.

He now stood from the place he had been crouching on the floor. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” He seemed averse to leaving her sitting neatly atop his bed. For a second he pondered who would be more questioning: his mother after finding her in his bedroom, or Hawkins High’s staff and students if they saw her following him through a day of school like a service dog. While the second option allowed him to stay by her side, number one presented itself as the best choice if she were to be discovered. This time she nodded to his farewell, an addition of her own voice leaving a “goodbye” at the gesture’s tail end. He smiled at her, a comforting gesture. Opening the door, he slid his body between the small area of room he left open for his departure. He did not even chance fully opening the door, for someone could be in the hallway. Her responsive smile faded as the door drew closed, and she sat unmoving where he had left her.

While he had originally told her that she could sleep the entire time he was away, she now thought that to be a bad idea since the conversation of someone walking in on her. Why couldn’t she just lock the door? She guessed it would arise too many questions, or just be entered anyway (using a key) without the repellent of a sleeping boy behind it. His family was polite enough not to disturb a resting person. The idea of family sat at the top of her mind, asking her who she could claim to be her own. She refused to answer that question, even to her own brain, recognizing the truth was not a single person. Instead she glanced to his nightstand, where his promised clock sat. 7:09 it read. She thought of getting up to explore his bedroom, the concept of privacy something she was without experience with, but told herself that she shouldn’t move. Moving produced sound, and she didn’t want to have to retreat to the underside of the bed she laid upon.

She settled on exploring with her eyes. His room was simple, the bed she sat upon was the centerpiece. The walls were covered with a white plaid wallpaper, and the curtains that hung in front of the window were patterned to match. The sun was already poking through the blinds, but she did not wish to close the curtains and mask the pale light. On the wall to her left was a poster that read The Smiths. Centered underneath it was a dresser, various items scattered across the top - a hair comb, a few tapes with names like Queen and Joy Division scribbled with slanted writing across the front, and a silver stereo to play said tapes on. She pulled the comforter up to her nose and sank a little - making sure that she could still see the gap under the door that provided half an inch of sight into the hallway. That half inch was going to be watched carefully, as if it could really give her significant insight as to what was going on through to the other side of it. She knew that if someone were to walk in right now, she would be fully visible, but tucked under the covers she still felt safer. Maybe part of it was that reassuring scent of the comforter.

---

2:32. The lock was still climbing to 3, but was now only 28 minutes away. Having abandoned the heat of the covers, the hiding girl who had remained in Steve’s bedroom all day sat cross-legged where she had slept that night. Twenty-eight minutes left, meaning that seven hours and thirty-two minutes had passed where she had not been disturbed. A soft beat: feet on carpeted stairs. A sound perhaps easy to miss if you were not waiting to hear it all day. Number nine heard it, and moved from her place on his bed for the first time that day. She pressed herself onto the floor quickly, using her hands to push herself under the bedskirt of the mattress frame. The sound came to a stop, soon replaced by the noise of a creaking door. She swore the door had not been that loud when Steve had left his morning. Becoming suddenly aware of her breathe, she began to hold it in her lungs. She doesn’t come into my room that much. Steve’s promise was now disproven, or perhaps today was the occurrence that had prohibited him from telling her that his mother did not come into his room at all.

Her hands were pressed to the floor in front of her, sure to be imprinted with marks of the carpet’s texture when she drew them away. She heard another door slide open - the closet. She mentally thanked Steve for choosing her hiding spot with consideration. How long would his mother be? The underside of a bed was no place to stay for the remaining 28 minutes. Perhaps it was closer to 25 now. From under the bed, she scooted backwards until her feet touched the wall. She wanted to be as far away as possible from the woman who threatened her discovery. Her discovery and likely return to the lab. More footsteps were heard now, but these were quick and heavy, someone besides his mom. They entered the room with haste, and the sound of the door hitting the back of Steve’s bedroom wall made 009 flinch. Was it his dad, was he home too? Under the bed, the girl closed her eyes. She had already stopped breathing and hoped that eliminating her sense of sight would somehow eliminate theirs too. A voice broke from the panicked entry. “Mom, hey! What-a- what are you doing?” It was Steve. Home 24 minutes early.

“I was just putting some stuff from downstairs back in your room, why? Is everything okay?” the voice without a face questioned. “Yeah! Yeah everything’s fine, I just have this uh-” Steve stumbled over his own words, trying to spit them out quickly so that he could check the underneath of his bed for the person he worried greatly about. The room looked just how he had left it, aside from her absence. For a second he questioned whether she was under the bed or gone completely. “I have this project I have to finish for tomorrow and I really need to hurry.” A weak lie, he would admit that, but one fitting of a teenager, and one his mother would eat up without question. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair,” she told him. With that last sentence, the soft beat of her steps resumed as she left the room. The door closed again - most likely Steve’s doing considering the amount of force recognizably used to do so. 009 did not move from under the bed, even with her confident suspicion that he was now the only person besides her in the room. “Nine?” he asked in a whisper, a whisper even softer than the one he had utilized this morning. He bent down, lifting the bedskirt a little too rapidly for her comfort. She flinched again. He sighed. “Oh thank fuck, are you okay?” She turned her head to him, meeting his eye with a look of unease. “It’s safe now,” he told her. He reached out a hand, offering her removal from her place of concealment. She took it; an act of trust in the person who eliminated the threat. She was pulled from the narrow opening beneath the bed frame, her feet leaving their place against the wall. Now she was able to stand, and let out her own sigh once she did.

“I’m so sorry, I came home as soon as possible. The traffic in the parking lot was just really bad and- I’m sorry I really didn’t think she would come up here.” He finished his hurried apology, getting it out quickly as if she would retreat back into her place of hiding if he were not fast enough. He turned around to pick up the plate he had abandoned atop his set of drawers during his panic. “Here, I brought you another sandwich,” he told her. The sound of glass leaving a wooden surface rang in the air as he lifted it to give to her. He smiled at her, a look of sincere apology. Her own face dropped the slightly hostile expression and picked up a smile of her own. “Thank you,” she said.

They both sat on his bed now, herself tearing the sandwich into smaller bites and him offering her conversation after hours of silence and seclusion. His explanation of his day fell to a conclusion. Hearing of a normal teenager’s life was both compelling and saddening to Nine. “Do you want to go out?” he decided to present her with a question. “Like to the store? We can buy you some things. You know, like necessities. Your own toothbrush, deodorant, things like that?” An afternoon out of his bedroom, appealing at first thought, but dangerous after a second. “What if someone sees me? They’re probably looking for me, it’s too unsafe,” she reminded him. It was like he had forgotten she was a fugitive. His expression abandoned delight and met dissatisfaction. “Shit,” his response was simple. They sat for another moment, her fingers fiddling with the crust of the wheat bread. “Wait,” he told her. He returned to the place where his mother had been earlier, peering into his closet. He removed from inside a hat, one with a thick brim. “You can wear this! I also have a pair of sunglasses in my car, they will cover your face. Plus you will be in my clothes so nobody will recognize you, right?” His tone was hopeful again. A promise he couldn’t make, but one he was confident in.

She pondered his proposal. It was not the best, certainly, but it was also one that her strong desire to leave the house made hard to shoot down. A hat and sunglasses. Was that all it would really take to keep her safe? Her eyes looked over the hat, studying the object she considered putting her complete faith in to protect her identity. Her eyes then traveled to Steve’s face. It wore a look of both longing and optimism. It made her trust him and his stupid plan a little bit more. “Okay,” she spoke up. “Let’s go.” The underside of her teeth met her bottom lip and she pulled it in to present him with a close-mouthed smile. He returned one, and added a laugh. He took a few paces forward, and extended his hand that held the hat. He watched her face, careful to only make contact if she was comfortable. Gently, he placed the hat on top of her head and smiled down at her. “I don’t even recognize you,” he told her jokingly.

#steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve x reader #st3 #ST fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things requests #steve harrington series #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #SCOOPS TROOP #robin #steve

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gluupor · 6 years ago

Text

No Law in Deadwood

inspired by this artwork by the incredibly talented @requiemofkings

“Fuckin’ finally,” said Kevin as they crested the hill and the ramshackle town came into view. “I’ve a hankering to get to town.”

“No surprises there,” replied Neil, adjusting his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. “I’d a thought you were gonna shoot them poor sumbitches when the whiskey barrel went dry.”

“What in the hell are you insinuating? That I enjoy a fucking drink? I wasn’t aware that was outlawed.”

“Peace, Kevin, fuck. I’d forgotten what a miserable fucking bastard you are when you ain’t had a drink.” Neil shifted in his saddle and stroked his horse’s neck to soothe her as she tossed her head and stomped in place, as impatient as Kevin was to get going. Riding was second nature to him— he never felt more at home than running his horse at a gallop, leaning forward over her neck with her sides heaving as she let loose— but even he was ready for a rest. Days upon days of staying with the impossibly slow wagon train and listening to Kevin’s complaints was enough to make even the most experienced traveller saddle sore.

Neil spurred his horse down the ridge, passing into the town. It was haphazardly put up and quickly growing: tents were surrounded by partially-built structures. The clang of hammers and the buzz of saws filled the air and the smell of sawdust was pervasive, though it couldn’t cover up the scent of horseshit. The main thoroughfare was made up of sucking mud, made worse by the rain of the last three days.

The biggest building had a painted sign that identified it as the Grand Hotel and had an attached stable. Kevin dismounted and tossed his reigns over to the tall, grinning man that came to greet them.

The man did a double take when he saw Kevin and then goggled at him. “Kevin ‘Bullseye’ Day!” he said when he regained the power of speech. “The most accurate shot in the west!”

“Probably in the east, too,” said Neil affably, dismounting his own horse.

“And you must be his sidekick, Quickdraw Josten!”

Neil felt the familiar urge to run that occurred every time someone recognized him. By all rights he should have shed the name Josten long before, it was far too recognized these days thanks to Kevin’s need to be the centre of attention. “God fucking dammit, I ain’t that son of a bitch’s sidekick,” he griped as Kevin snorted a laugh.

“Don’t say nothin’ against my mother, Josten.”

“I’d never disrespect a woman who can outdraw me.”

The stable hand watched their banter with barely repressed glee. “My old lady might give you a run for your money,” he said. He nodded back at the hotel. “We’re the proprietors of this fine establishment. Matt Boyd, at your service.”

“We’d like a room,” said Kevin.

“Two, if you can manage,” added Neil. “We’re mighty worn out lookin’ at each other.”

“For y’all, I can manage,” said Matt.

“There a blacksmith in town?” asked Neil, giving his horse a final pat. “I want to get my horse reshod before we head out again.”

“Minyard has a smithy; I can point you the way.”

“Leave off ‘til tomorrow, Neil,” said Kevin. “Seeing as we’re gonna be here awhile.”

“What brings you to town?” asked Matt. “Prospecting? There’s gold in them hills.”

“This one got a warrant out for him in Cheyenne,” said Kevin, nodding to Neil. “Felt it safest to come to where there were no laws for him to break.”

“It true that there’s no law at all in Deadwood?” asked Neil.

Matt nodded quickly. “On account of it bein’ Indian land and all.” He looked at Kevin curiously. “I thought you were a marshal up in Montana?”

“Until he came to his fucking senses,” said Neil. “No more law man ambitions for him.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Tell me, is there anywhere in this goddamn shithole where a man can have a drink in peace? Maybe a game of faro?”

“Can have a drink, a game, and some pussy up at the Gem,” said Matt. “Miss Renee who owns it runs a tight ship.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “A woman owns it?”

Matt nodded. “She used to be one of the whores workin’ there ‘til she got fed up with the way they were treated. Knifed the last owner and took over running the place.”

“Maybe somewhere less excitin’,” said Kevin. “I only need a drink and a game.”

Matt grinned. “You want the No. 10 saloon owned by Jeremy Knox.” He pointed helpfully.

Kevin tipped his hat and turned to leave. He’d taken several strides before he realized Neil wasn’t following. “You coming?”

“Kevin, you are my very best friend in the entire fucking world,” said Neil, “but if I have to spend another goddamn minute with you I’m liable to shoot you in your fucking face.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it none.”

“If I used fancy fucking words you’d mistake it for a compliment,” said Neil. “Get off. I’ll see you later.”

Kevin pouted, not liking being alone, especially in an unfamiliar place, but Neil couldn’t deal with his deep-seated personality flaws right then. His own issues took precedence; he couldn’t sit and watch Kevin drink and lose at cards, he had to survey the town, find all the escape routes and hiding places and get a look at the people in power.

Once he completed his initial circuit of the town, he headed to the Gem. Based on Matt’s description he guessed that the important players would be found there.

It was late afternoon and most of the local prospectors hadn’t returned from their claims, so the Gem was only sparsely populated. There were around ten patrons, five or six whores, and a bartender. Neil catalogued them all while trying to look like he wasn’t looking at any of them. He took a seat at the end of the bar and kept his head down.

“What’ll it be, honey?” asked the bartender, a slim man who likely had some Mexican in him.

“Water,” said Neil.

The bartender snorted in disdain, but poured him a glass of slightly suspect-looking water. “You new in town? You came to the right place. Name’s Nicky and I know everything.”

“Neil,” he replied. “I know nothin’.”

Nicky’s answering grin was almost predatory. “Want some pussy? All our girls are clean; checked by Doc Wymack and everything.”

“No.”

“You want somethin’ rougher? Wait until my break and I can take you out back.”

“Cocksucker,” growled a nearby man. Neil had characterized him as big and mean; he was gratified to see he was correct.

“You askin’?” said Nicky. “You don’t have the credit to afford me.”

“Fuck off,” said Big And Mean, turning red in rage. “You keep that cocksucking bullshit away from me.” He huffed and started to turn away. “Oughta be illegal.”

“Ain’t no law in Deadwood,” said a new voice. It belonged to the blond man at the far end of the bar.

“Ain’t your business, Minyard,” said Big And Mean.

This must be the blacksmith Matt had mentioned. He didn’t look like much, five foot even at most, but his suspenders helped display the fact that he had the arms of a man who pounded metal for a living. Neil could tell the man was feared, based on the nervous glances that skated over him and the way that everyone in the bar was suddenly minding their own affairs as soon as he started to speak.

“Just sayin’,” said Minyard, knocking the ash off his cigarette. “No law means he can suck cock if the fancy strikes him.”

“Andrew…” said Nicky, a fearful note in his tone.

Big And Mean puffed up and stalked toward Minyard. Neil reclassed him as big, mean, and stupid.

“No law means no one’ll object if I burn the faggot alive, either.”

“I may have to lodge a complaint.”

“And what’ll you do about it?” taunted Big And Mean And Stupid.

Minyard flicked his eyes over the man, looking bored. Then, quick as a rattlesnake he struck, extinguishing his cigarette on the man’s cheek. As he howled in pain, Minyard slashed out with a knife that he must have had hidden in one of his black armbands.

Big And Mean And Stupid fell to the floor, gurgling on the blood pouring out of his gasping throat. Neil watched him die dispassionately. The other patrons pretended not to notice the altercation; one of the whores ran from the room, presumably for her mistress.

“Andrew,” said Nicky, sounding censuring now.

Minyard flipped him a coin. “For the mess,” he said, tucking the knife back into his armband and turning back to his drink.

He had lit another cigarette by the time a tall, blonde, glamourous woman swept down the stairs from the upstairs office.

“Minyard, are you fucking murderin’ people in my place again, you goddamn cocksucker?” she demanded.

“It’s Renee’s place, Reynolds,” said Andrew.

“Same fucking difference. God, you’re an insufferable cunt,” Reynolds said.

Minyard nodded to the coin. “I paid for your trouble.”

Reynolds shook her head and rounded the bar, lifting her skirts to ensure the dead man’s blood wouldn’t stain them. Her eyes narrowed on Neil at the end of the bar. “What are you drinking?” she asked.

“Water.”

She raised a delicate eyebrow. “You want some pussy? Play some faro?”

Neil shook his head.

“Then buy some fucking alcohol or get the hell out of my bar,” she commanded. Turning to Nicky, she continued muttering, “Goddamn fuckers: killing people, not spending any money.” She gave Nicky a piercing glare. “Stop servin’ your bastard cousin if he kills anyone else, you hear me? In the meantime, go fetch the Chinaman and feed the idiot on the floor to his pigs.”

Nicky nodded and left. Neil motioned for a whiskey, not wanting to argue with Reynolds assuming it was an exercise in futility.

Reynolds slammed his glass down in front of him. “And take off your fucking hat. This is a goddamn classy establishment.”

Neil knocked the hat off the back of his head, letting the cord hang it around his neck. When he looked up, he found Minyard’s eyes on him.

“Here to prospect?” Minyard asked.

“No.”

Minyard waited but Neil didn’t expand, sipping his drink slowly and refraining from grimacing at the taste. The smoky flavour reminded him of grievous injuries, gritting his teeth and biting on leather as he was stitched back together.

“Who are you?” Minyard evidently had grown tired of waiting.

“I’m no one.”

“Why are you here?”

“No reason.”

Minyard shook his head. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t ya?”

“No, sir,” said Neil, trying to sound innocent. “I’ve never made trouble in my life.”

“I don’t trust you farther than I can throw this building,” said Minyard, draining the rest of his drink and standing. “But I sure do enjoy the way you lie.” He adjusted his hat on his head. “Got my eye on you, Quickdraw.” Which meant that either Minyard recognized him or that gossip travelled even faster than Neil had been anticipating.

Minyard nodded to Reynolds and strolled out the front door, seemingly without a care.

“Ain’t a good thing to have his attention,” said Reynolds, watching him go.

“Figures,” said Neil. “It’s the kinda fuckin’ luck I’ve got.”

He had a sneaking suspicion that his and Kevin’s idea of laying low in Deadwood to escape from their problems might not be quite as straightforward as they’d initially hoped.

#aftg #tfc #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #my fic #bits #now the warnings:#cw language #cw violence #cw murder #cw homophobia #cw racism #cw sexism #cw prostitution #let me know if I missed anything

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the-everlasting-dream · 6 years ago

Text

No - Drake x MC

Summary: Elizabeth’s reaction to King Liam’s request from Chapter 2 of TRH

A/N: Oh look who’s alive and decided she remembers how to write. Thats right, I’m back with some subpar fiction and I hope you like Elizabeth’s honest reaction to the fiasco that was the beginning of this book. Some lines are obviously from the dialogue.

Word Count: 3408

Warnings: Swearing.

Tags: idk who even reads anymore so @chantelle-x0x , @choicessa, @mariamulroney , @drakewalkerwhipped , @quartzandarrow , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo , @drakewalker04 , @mkatschoicesblog , TRR only: @speedyoperarascalparty , @carabeth , Drake: @fairydustandsarcasm , @drakewalkerisreal

‘To ask us if our future baby would be the ruler of Cordonia?’

The words rang in Elizabeth’s ears, the sound of her own voice alien to her as what Liam was alluding sunk in.

‘Liam.’ Her mouth moved but it was Drake who spoke, tone laced with disbelief.

‘I... I don’t know what to say. My kid sitting on the throne...’

My kid. Our kid.

They’d talked extensively about kids in the past month, agreeing that while they still both wanted children, it would be nice to spend some time together first as a couple. Surely Drake would say no. The next words that came out of his mouth shook Elizabeth to her core.

‘I mean it would be an incredible honor.. I don’t know what to say..’

She turned to gape at the man she now called her husband, remembering vividly how he’d described how excited he was to take their little one on the same camping trips like his own father had done, teaching them the art of making the perfect smore, giving them the life he wished he could have had. That picture of a little boy or girl with Drake’s hair and her eyes, a perfect mix of the two of them firmly planted on his shoulders seemed to evaporate when she heard those words.

‘Elizabeth. What do you say?’ Liam’s blue eyes turned on her in expectancy.

‘No.’

The word was out of her mouth before she could control herself but she didn’t want to take it back. She watched both their faces fall and straightened her spine, swallowing hard. ‘No. No Liam. I wish I was sorry but I am not. I’m not giving my child up for anything.’

‘Walker,’ Drake started, reaching for her hand but she wrenched it out of his grasp.

‘No. I said no.’

Seeing his mouth open again presumably to reason with her, she turned on her heel and stormed off down the beach. Anger boiled in her veins like never before, searing hot; she could barely think straight. Liam to coming here — on their honeymoon, no less — and asking them for their literal unborn child was insurmountably selfish.

Hadn’t she giving up enough already? Was getting kidnapped, shot at multiple times, having the man she loved almost bleed out in front of her not enough? Was she to sacrifice her future family just because the king of Cordonia couldn’t get a date?

These and a thousand other venomous thoughts were swirling on her mind as she stalked off, heading in no particular direction except away from the conversation.

‘Walker wait up.’

Elizabeth did nothing to slow her pace as she heard Drake jog up to her. ‘Walker would you just stop for a minute? Elizabeth!’

Jerking to a halt, she waited until he was in her line of vision before fixing him with a poisonous look.

‘Jesus what was that?’

‘I could ask you the same damn thing. What the actual fuck Drake?’ She spat, not caring if anyone heard her.

‘Liz c’mon. It’s not like the kid wouldn’t be ours still.’

‘Drake do you even hear yourself? I thought you of all people would be with me on this. You’ve spent your entire life hating the nobles for their stuffy ways, you’ve ranted to me on enough occasions about how pretentious and prim and stuck up and snobby they are. Now you’re turning around and saying you’d sign our child up for that without a second thought?’

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. ‘Walker, c’mon you know it’s not like that..’

‘Then tell me what it’s like!’ She screeched, her voice shrill as it no doubt carried down the beach to where the rest of their friends were waiting. ‘Because to me it seems like you’re willing to drop and show your belly every time Liam asks you for something. Have you forgotten you have a wife now or does my opinion weigh nothing?’

‘You know that’s not true Elizabeth,’ he snapped back angrily and some part of her was glad to see the reaction, any reaction. ‘He’s got a good reason. We married for love. Don’t you think Liam of all people deserves the same?’

‘I do. You know I do. But his happiness shouldn’t come at the price of ours.’

Drake ran a weary hand over his face. ‘Don’t you care about the future of Cordonia?’

She paused momentarily thrown by his question. ‘What I care about is the future of my family. Something that you obviously don’t share. I don’t get it Drake. I really don’t. You of all people know how dangerous the life of a monarch is. Assassinations, poisonings, coups. Did the situation with Anton teach you nothing? And the worst part is that you didn’t even think to talk to me about it? You’re happy to just agree with whatever ridiculous demands he dreams up!’

Drake glared at her. ‘That’s bullshit and you know it.’

Hot tears pricked the back of her eyes as Elizabeth met his gaze. ‘We promised each other that we would have each other’s back. All the time, one hundred percent. All we talked about after this whole wedding shebang was to have a normal life, the two of us and the family we would have together. At least that’s what I thought we both wanted.’

The look on his face told her that her words had been driven home. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment.

Say something. This is our first real fight. Say something. She begged him silently, watching as Drake opened and closed his mouth several times but no words came out.

‘I’ve got a beach ball here with both your names on it!’

Maxwells voice cut through the tension. ‘What better way to work through some newly wedded strife than to slap a ball at each other huh?’ He shot a grin at them before wrapping a hand around each of their arms, leading them toward where the others had all gathered.

‘Beaumont this is hardly the-‘

‘Splendid idea Maxwell,’ Elizabeth interrupted, snatching the ball angrily out of his hands. ‘You’re on my team.’

Tensions boiled hotter than the afternoon sun as the game took place on the sand opposite the villa.

Elizabeth barely made a sound the whole game, concentrating her entire effort on hitting either Drake or Liam in the face. It would have solved anything but it would have made her feel a whole lot better, she decided, spiking the ball towards her husband. She rolled her eyes as he flawlessly intercepted it, sending it sailing over the net to Hana. She didn’t forget how Liam was readily avoiding her eyes, tapping the ball sympathetically over the net towards her as some kind of convoluted apology. She hit the ball again, harder this time, treacherous thoughts of Rumplestiltskin and baby snatcher rolling through her head.

What kind of person asks another person for their baby? Go make your own goddamned baby. What do I look like? The baby making machine? He may be a king but I am a duchess and my body is mine and so is my child.

‘Elizabeth heads up!’

The warning was too late and she was midway through turning her head toward the sound when something slammed against the side of her face, the impact hard enough to knock her off balance onto her hands and knees on the sand.

‘Walker!’

‘Elizabeth! Oh my god! Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ she answered, brushing aside Hana’s hands, her ego wounded more than anything. Regaining her footing, she avoided all eye contact under the pretense of brushing the sand from her skin, keenly aware of Drake’s gaze on her.

‘I think I’ve had enough volleyball for one day.’

‘Elizabeth -‘ Maxwell began but she silenced him with a hand.

‘Max just... don’t. I want to be alone. Please.’

Steam rose off the bubbling waters of the outdoor jacuzzi as Elizabeth sunk deeper into the tub, trailing a hand through the churning foam, the other against her reddened cheek, her thoughts reflecting the same image.

This is my baby. Our baby — she corrected herself. Mine and Drake’s.

‘I want a little girl with your eyes and my hair.’

‘Not my hair?’

‘Hell Walker, you’re so perfect I’d take an exact copy of you.’

She laughed and they shared a cheesy smile as they both stared out at the waves crashing on the sand. She took another sip from her wine, feeling Drake’s eyes on her.

‘Something’s on your mind.’

‘What? N-no.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I may have only been married to you for a month but I know when something’s bothering you Walker. So what is it?’

Elizabeth heaved a big sigh. ‘Its just… We didn’t get a ton of time as a couple before the whole wedding debacle happened. We’re still learning about each other.. And I know we’ve got the rest of our lives to do that…'

‘But?’ Concern leaked into his big brown eyes and she could tell he was trying to hide it so she cleared her throat resolving to just say it once and for all.

‘A baby means a big change. For us. As a couple and as ourselves. And I…’ She faltered.

His hand slipped into hers, squeezing comfortingly.

‘This last year has been amazing, me coming to Cordonia, becoming a duchess, marrying the love of my life, so many things have changed. I could do with some normal before another big change happens and shakes it up again.’

Drake tugged on her hand and she took the opportunity to climb into his lap.

'I only just got you. Is it selfish to want you all to myself for just a little bit longer?’

Elizabeth felt his lips on her head, pressing a gentle kiss there.

’Not at all.’‘I know you’re excited for a baby — I am too but I… I’m just not there yet.’

She buried her face in his chest, worried about what he was going to say next. ‘Its okay Liz. Its okay. We don’t have to jump into this thing head first.’

He hooked a finger under her chin so she’d look at him. ‘When it happens, if it happens, it doesn’t matter. All I care about is us. As long as we’re in this together, I’m down for anything with you Elizabeth.’

As the memory replayed in her head, Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel a sense of betrayal. Did all that mean nothing? Or perhaps Drake simply put more stock in Liam’s opinion than her own?

Now THAT hurt to think of. She was very familiar with the bro code but surely that didn't still apply after freaking marriage?

Why us? That was another puzzle, she couldn’t solve. Why Drake and I specifically? Wouldn’t it make more sense if Liam absolutely HAD to appoint a heir to appoint one from one of the longer standing noble houses? What made her so special?

For the briefest moment, another thought crossed her mind. Surely he can’t still be in love with me...?

Elizabeth shook her head, perishing the thing from her mind. That door was long closed. If a public wedding wasn’t a big enough sign of rejection, she didn’t know what was. Was there something she was missing here? Something everyone knew about except her? Why did it seem logical to everyone to take someone else’s child and make them heir when you are perfectly capable of making your own?

‘Got room for one more?’

Elizabeth picked her head up to see Hana standing in the doorway, a pair of brightly coloured cocktails in her hands. She shrugged in reply, gesturing to the space beside her, gladly accepting the beverage. The cool liquid soothed her dry throat and she sipped it appreciatively, feeling marginally better.

‘Thanks Hana. You always know what to do to make me feel better.’

The other woman smiled softly. ‘What are best friends for? We missed you’

‘I missed you guys too.’ Elizabeth could not help the corner of her mouth lifting for a moment before it dropped back down, her somber mood settling back in. ‘Are things back home as... turbulent as he says?’

Needing no clarification, Hana’s pretty face crumpled in regret. ‘Truth be told Elizabeth, things are more tense than Liam let’s on. As soon as Anton’s trial was over and you guys left for your honeymoon, we received delegates from our neighbours Monterisso and Auvernal. I’m not sure if Bertrand taught you the history behind those countries.’

When Elizabeth shook her head, her friend continued.

‘Back then both countries were at odds with each other, always fighting, always trying to undermine each other. Cordonia was in the middle. The neutral ground so to speak. So it was only logical that each of them would try to win us over to their side so they’d finally gain the upper hand over each other. Constantine’s reign was the only thing stopping either of them from overwhelming us. And when Liam ascended the throne…'

‘Power newly transferred is the easiest to be taken,’ Elizabeth finished.

Hana nodded. ‘Since Liam doesn’t have an heir or any marriageable prospects really, he looks weak. And as a new king, in the middle of a political battlefield, he looks easy.’

‘But why me Hana?’ she burst out. ‘Why does it have to be us?’ She watched her friend’s pretty face crumple in through for a moment.

‘Because he trusts you and Drake the most. All the other houses, other nobles. Sure they might be happy to give up one of their own for the throne if Liam asked, who knows what agenda they have… I’m not telling you to do anything. Just keep all that in mind okay?’

Hana placed a comforting hand on her leg. ‘I’m going to get out before I turn into a prune,’ she joked, getting to her feet. ‘Bertrand would be horrified if we showed up to dinner in this state. You coming?’

Elizabeth nodded vaguely, turning over the new information in her mind. ‘I’ll be right there.’

Dinner was a tense affair. To make things worse, the conversation immediately ceased when Elizabeth took her place at the shared table, next to Bertrand. After a few moments of sporadic mumblings and pushing her food around her plate, she stood up abruptly, making her excuses and leaving, ignoring the gazes of her friends behind her.

The sea wind whipped at her hair, tousling it beyond taming as Elizabeth stared out into the dark horizon, kicking at the sand as she ambled down the beach. Her mind still turned over Hana’s words from that afternoon, now that she’d had time to process it, she was beginning to see the reasoning.

‘Can I join you?’

She shrugged, not needing to look up to know that it was Drake. ‘There’s nuff beach for the both of us.’

‘How’s your cheek?’

‘Its fine.'

They continued like that for a little while longer, walking two feet apart, both of them silent as she ignored the way his eyes begged her to look at him. Rubbing her arms, Elizabeth shivered slightly as the cold sea air nipped her skin. She turned her head to see Drake already shrugging off his denim shirt, having noticed.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Just take it. You may be mad at me but I’m still not going to let your stubborn ass freeze.’

He stepped closer, his hands were warm when they touched her, settling the fabric over her shoulders protectively. Their faces were inches away and for the first time since that afternoon on the beach, she dared to look up into his dark eyes.

‘Thanks.’

He shook his head in a gesture of dismissal, pausing briefly to gather himself. ‘I’m sorry about earlier.’

‘Me too.’

The crashing of the waves on the beach was all that could be heard for a few moments. ‘Is that really something you wanna subject our kid to?’ She said finally, breaking the silence. ‘Liz…'

‘I’m not mad anymore. I just… I wanna understand where you’re coming from.’

Drake let out a huge sigh, tipping his head back to the night sky above them. ‘I know its out of character for me.. that I’m the last person who would want this.’

‘No kidding. You’ve spent your entire life hating that place. Two days after we met you were warning me about the nobility and how toxic they were and now...'

‘You’re right,’ Drake admitted, lacing his hands behind his head and staring up into the sky, sighing in defeat. ‘You’re right.’

‘So what changed your mind?’ Elizabeth watched her husband think for a long moment.

‘To be honest,’ he said finally. ‘It was you. You were the one who showed me that a person could go through that place and still be the same honest, down to earth girl I fell in love with. What you’ve done to this country, in the last year, generations of nobles couldn’t achieve in decades. You showed me that there’s more to the nobility than gilded walls and politics.’

Drake’s eyes took on a faraway look now. ‘Yeah when you got that duchess title, I was a little scared that you’d finally be one of them but you’re not. You didn’t let it define you, you used it to make a difference like you did for me, the court… hell, the whole kingdom. So when I thought about how our home needs our help… how my best friend needs our help, I knew that with you by my side, if anyone could raise an heir with a good head on his or her shoulders, it’d be us.’

Elizabeth dropped her head to hide the small smile that broke through. ‘You’re doing it again.’

‘What?’

‘Making me fall in love with you.’ She looked up at him. ‘A little prince or princess raised by two former commoners could do a lot of good around there.'

Drake didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arms around her and she gratefully sunk into his embrace, finally feeling at peace for the first time all day.

'Promise me something.’ Elizabeth spoke up, her voice slightly muffled by his shirt.

‘Anything.'

'From now on,’ she pulled back to look him in the face. ‘We make big decisions like this together. We’re gonna be facing a lot of tough things as duke and duchess and we gotta have each other’s backs. Because if we don’t, who will?’

‘Promise.'

‘I guess we should go talk to Liam now huh?’

‘I guess we should,’ Drake replied, lacing his fingers through hers, preparing to lead them back to the villa before Elizabeth tugged him back to her.

‘Actually wait, I just thought of something.’

'Liam I am going to be frank with you,’ Elizabeth towered over where he was sitting on the couch, a menacing look on her face. 'What you asked of us today was a huge overstep of personal boundaries. You may be king but you have no right whatsoever to be so presumptuous especially with such a life changing decision.'

'I am sorry Elizabeth truly I-'

‘Do not interrupt me Your Highness.’ Elizabeth’s tone seared through the room as she fixed him with a fierce stare. ‘You had crossed the line and frankly it is only your best friend’s negotiation skills that saved your ass here.’

She paused, watching his blue eyes widen slightly at her use of the word before she made her demand.

‘Five years.’

Liam’s brow furrowed in confusion. ‘I-'

'I’m giving you five years to find a wife and put a baby in her. Drake and I, we care for this country and we care for you but we have to prioritise our own family first. So in the interest of compromise, we’re giving you until our child is five years old to marry and produce an heir of your own. In that time, Drake and I are fine with our kid being the centre of all the media attention and political nonsense as long as you understand that this arrangement...’

Elizabeth paused to gesture between them. ‘Is temporary. When your wife is pregnant, we will withdraw our child as heir and yours may take its rightful place. Those are my terms.’

Liam rubbed his jaw, eyes flitting from Elizabeth’s determined eyes to the floor as he thought it over for a moment before turning back to her.

‘I accept your terms.’

#this is the only way i can see liz going along with that horrorshow of a plot #and not be like canon mc my uterus is at your command liam #nah this is much more liz #Elizabeth Walker #Elizabeth Richmond #drake walker #drake x mc #drake x elizabeth #king liam #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #the royal heir #the royal romance #choices #choices fanfiction #choices fandom #playchoices #long post

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 5 years ago

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‘It's the Heart that Really Matters in the End’ Chapter 2: Emotional Context

In this installment, Molly gets the context of the phone call in full. I re-watched the ILY scene many times over today, and there’s a lot of dialogue from it featured in this chapter, interspersed with Molly’s thoughts.

“How does he always know?” John asked in surprise when he opened his door to find Molly outside of it.

“How does who always know? Sherlock?” Molly asked, hearing her voice strain as she said his name.

“Well, him too, but this time it was Mycroft. Sorry, come in, Molls.” John gestured for her to follow him.

“Mycroft knew I’d be coming over here today?” Molly questioned. She watched as John picked up a disc, and put it in the DVD player.

“Yes, and he gave this to me temporarily, because he felt you should see it for yourself,” John explained. “It’s the, uh, footage from a criminal institution called Sherrinford; it’s where we were yesterday, playing into a bunch of mind games. Well, they were games made for Sherlock to rip him apart mentally and emotionally. Anyways, you might want to sit down for this.”

Molly knew she was about to gain a lot more information on the previous night, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready, but she needed to be. It made her furious to know that Sherlock had been tortured, despite the fact she had once thought he was torturing her. There were three camera angles on the screen. One was facing the doorway from above and another faced a television screen, and one that was set about Sherlock’s height, face-forward. There was a coffin in the dimly lit room, and the lid was leaning against the back wall. Sherlock, John, and Mycroft were already standing in the room.

“Coffin. Problem: someone is about to die. It will be—as I understand it—a tragedy. So many days not lived, so many words unsaid, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera—” a cold voice rang out.

“Yes, yes, yes, and this—I presume—will be their coffin,” Sherlock interrupted, exasperated.

Molly stared open-mouthed as she saw Meena’s face, only it wasn’t. Meena was never really Meena. Her voice was colder; devoid of any emotion. It sent chills up her spine. An overwhelming feeling of betrayal ran through her. This whole time, and—Molly felt so stupid. Sherlock was right. She did have an uncanny ability of attracting unstable people.

“Whose coffin, Sherlock?” she taunted. “Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment.”

Sherlock audibly sighed as he turned back towards the coffin. “Well, allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I’d say this coffin is intended for someone of about five foot four. Makes it more likely to be a woman.”

“Not a child?” John asked.

“A child’s coffin would be more expensive. This is in the lower price range, although still best available in that bracket,” Sherlock rattled off.

“A lonely night on Google,” John quipped.

Despite the dire situation, and knowing that this coffin has been made for her, Molly couldn’t help but snicker at John’s joke.

“This is a practical and informed choice. Balance of probability suggests that this is for an unmarried woman, distant from her close relatives. That much is suggested by the economy of choice.”

Mycroft propped the coffin’s lid against the wall, flipping it over to see the epitaph on the outside, frowning at it.

“…Acquainted with the process of death, but unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. Also, the lining of the coffin—“

Interrupting his brother, Mycroft said, “Yes, very good, Sherlock, or we could just look at the name on the lid.”

Molly watched the scene play out. Sherlock approached the lid, and sighed dejectedly when he read it.

“Only it isn’t a name,” Mycroft stated.

John paused the footage, and turned to Molly. “In case you were wondering, the epitaph said, ‘I love you.’” She only nodded, unable to form any coherent words. The footage continued on, only to break her heart.

“So, it’s for somebody who loves somebody,” John pointed out.

“It’s for somebody who loves Sherlock,” Mycroft corrected, looking at his brother. “This is all about you. Everything here.”

Sherlock gently gripped the head end of the coffin with his hands, his face showing nothing but pure terror.

Molly’s heart ached watching this, especially after realising the most important thing. The dead didn’t write their own epitaphs, the living did. If this whole thing was about her and Sherlock, the only logical conclusion is that the coffin is for someone that Sherlock loved…in this case, it was her.

“So,” Mycroft continued, “who loves you? I’m assuming it’s not a long list.”

Sherlock’s gaze bore into the coffin as if he were willing it to crumble beneath his touch.

“Irene Adler,” John suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous, look at the coffin,” Sherlock countered. “Unmarried, practical about death, alone.” Sherlock’s face was twisted into a painful expression. This was already killing him slowly.

“Molly.” John’s eyes widened.

“Molly Hooper,” Sherlock confirmed.

“She’s perfectly safe, for the moment.”

Molly was jarred by hearing Meena’s voice again, having forgotten all about her involvement. The television angle showed the screen changing to show three camera angles of her kitchen. A countdown of three minutes appeared in the top, right-hand corner.

The woman continued to drone on. “Her flat is rigged to explode in approximately three minutes, unless I hear the release code from her lips. I’m calling her on your phone, Sherlock. Make her say it.”

“Say what?” John asked.

Sherlock only pursed his lips in a firm line, his eyes shut in anguish.

“Obvious, surely?”

John, still seeing but not observing, replied, “No.”

“Yes.” It was Sherlock. He turned to look at the epitaph on the lid, and the others followed suit.

“Oh, one important restriction: you’re not allowed to mention in any way at all that her life is in danger. You may not—at any point—suggest that there is any form of crisis. If you do, I will end this session and her life. Are we clear?”

Molly now realised why Sherlock had been trying so hard to not cause alarm, but she couldn’t forget the panicked tone of voice he had whilst talking to her. All the clues were there. He had told her just to listen—to really pay close attention. She felt so stupid having not caught it at the time, allowing her emotions to cancel out the logic.

She jumped slightly upon hearing Moriarty’s voice tick-tocking away. Watching Sherlock’s increasing panic as she didn’t pick up the phone, and refused to do what he asked made Molly’s heart beat rapidly. John and Mycroft looked as if the building tension would make them combust. Reliving the situation like this was giving every bit of context, and though it hurt like hell, it put her mind at ease.

“Leave me alone,” Molly demanded.

“Molly, no, please, no don’t hang up!” Sherlock shouted, gesturing wildly. “Do not hang up!”

Molly watched on as she battled with him with the added addition of Meena’s cold reminders, and Moriarty’s incessant tick-tocks. It was almost too much to bear; she couldn’t even begin to imagine how Sherlock must have been feeling. She heard her own voice crying at him that it’s always been true, her deepest secret ripped from her heart. Sherlock blinked in confusion when she demanded that he say it first. Molly felt chills rise on her arms at her own cold tone of voice. Mycroft looked as if it was already too late.

“I—“ Sherlock was clearly struggling with the words. “I love you.” It was unsure, clumsy, but then a look of clarity softened his tightened features. “I love you.” The words flowed from him, smooth as whisky, full of emotion.

Tears dropped one-by-one from her eyes as she watched the realisation dawn on Sherlock, which, in return, had her realise that he meant each word. He loved her. His words weren’t empty—God, what he must have felt upon reading her words in that letter. Her heart felt as if it was being ripped open, shred by shred. She wanted to see him so badly; to comfort him, and tell him everything would be alright.

When the phone call ended, Molly saw everyone exhale in relief, the thick tension lifting from the room. Sherlock buried his head in his hands, knowing he had been close to losing her.

“Sherlock, however hard that was—“ Mycroft began.

“Eurus, I won. I won.” Sherlock waited for Eurus’s response. ”Come on, play fair. The girl on the plane; I need to talk to her.” Eurus’s face scrunched with feigned emotion. “I won. I saved Molly Hooper.”

“Saved her? From what? Oh, do be sensible. There were no explosives in her little house. Why would I be so clumsy? You didn’t win. You lost.” Eurus showed her hand, satisfied with Sherlock’s reaction. “Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself. All those complicated little emotions, I lost count. Emotional context, Sherlock, it destroys you every time.”

Molly watched as Sherlock struggled to come to terms with the ramifications of what had happened. Whilst Mycroft and John had visibly calmed down, Sherlock was nearly boiling with every negative emotion imaginable. She gasped loudly when Sherlock began busting the coffin apart with his bare hands in a frenzy of rage and pain, her hand covering her mouth to stifle her sobs. Molly only heard him shout those three words in his distress before the screen went to white noise.

“Molly?” John asked softly. “I wasn’t sure if it’d be a good idea to show you, but Mycroft insisted.” He waited patiently for her response, but she was cut off before any words could come out of her mouth.

“Damn it, Mycroft!”

John and Molly’s heads whipped around to see Sherlock standing in the doorway. He looked irritated whilst he looked at the telly, but his face softened at the sight of Molly’s tear-stained face. Sherlock walked towards her, ignoring John, and sat between them on the sofa, taking her hands in his. “Are you alright?”

She smiled sadly at him. “I don’t know,” she croaked, her throat feeling raw. “Are you?”

Sherlock laughed as if it were a preposterous question. “You’re the one who’s had to relive that torturous moment, and you’re asking me if I’m alright?” He laughed in disbelief once more. “You really are a perplexing woman, Molly Hooper.” It was then that he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, then spoke softly in her ear. “Shall I take you home?”

Molly gave a small nod, allowing him to take the lead on this.

“If you two need to talk privately, I can sit in with Rosie whilst she sleeps,” John offered. “She probably needs her nappy changed soon.”

“Thank you, John, but that won’t be necessary,” Sherlock replied. “I think Molly may need the fresh air.”

John watched as they left, Sherlock's hand hovering protectively at the small of Molly's back.

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

#sherlolly #it's the heart that really matters in the end #my fanfiction #sherlock x molly

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that-witchy-pan · 6 years ago

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You know what, screw it. I'm writing a cute Urbosa x a new OC

Chapter 1

Just a warning a few details might be off, I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes, or setting mistake or anything about a character. I myself have not played the game enough to learn all about Gerudo Town, I only know tidbits because I 'borrowed' my brother's switch a few times. Just a warning.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Ugh, these Bokoblins just keep coming! We gotta get out of here, Penny. Let's get to Gerudo Town, okay?" The tawny horse simply whinnied in reply. "Come on, let's go."

And off the two went, riding faster than the wind. The Hylian stalked her prey, silent and waiting. The hind's head bolted up, and her legs carried her quickly away. "Dammit. I guess I'll just have to get some food at the market in Gerudo Town." Em's stomach growled in protest. "I'll just have to suffer in the few days it'll take to get there." Em laughed at her mare, eating the grass to her heart's content. At least Penny had something to eat. But soon the Hylian regretted her choice.

"I need food. Just. Food. Anything. I'm so hungry." Em sighed as more sand filled her shoe. She had left Penny back at the nearest stables, not wanting the horse to get exposed to such heat, and if one more grain of sand got in her eye she was going to lose it. "You know what, I'll go over to the pool over there and change into better clothes. Maybe there's food there." The brunette shook the bit of sand out of her hair as she realized she had terrible sunburn. Her skin was blistered and peeling. "Ah- oh no. Oh no. Ápo tí theá." A whimper escaped her lips as the pad of her finger brushed the peeling skin. It was so painful, she couldn't walk without wincing because her clothes rubbed against her back.

"Oh! A spring!" Em smiled wistfully, walking over to the pool of beautiful azure water. Palm trees grew all around the water, providing shade over the oasis. Em carefully took off the bothersome outer garments that covered her body tightly. She needed to feel something cold, and the water was the perfect temperature. Left in a pair of black shorts and a loose fitting Gerudo-like top, Em sank into the cool water. She sighed, relief pulling her deeper into the cobalt depths. Soon she was fully submerged, and when the Hylian came up for air, a tall, imposing figure stood near the water's edge. It was a woman, probably seven feet tall, with flaming red, voluminous hair, an excess of golden jewelry, and colorful clothing. At her waist a beautifully encrusted shield and scimitar hung. She was beautiful. What startled Em was the expression on the woman's face. Her eyes were slits, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. Em quickly swam out, afraid of the woman immediately. However, the swimming had done it's toll on the Hylian woman, and she felt ready to faint. Despite her body protesting, she approached the woman. "Why were you in the pool of Naboris, Hylian?" The woman's arms crossed as she awaited an answer. "I...forgive me for not knowing who you are, and please forgive me for my lack of the knowledge of this oasis. I am deeply sorry that I intruded up...upon the sacred....p...pool..." Em felt herself begin to sway, and the last thing she remembered were the woman's emerald eyes widening as she fell into the sand.

~ ~ ~ ~

Em woke to a dim room filled with sheer curtains, the only light coming from a large balcony. It seemed the day was merging to night when she awoke. But Em felt she was not alone. She felt eyes on her. The Hylian looked around with caramel eyes, and finally found the emerald pair staring back at her. "Are you alright?" The woman asked, her voice anchoring the thoughts in Em's head. "I...don't know... what happened and would you mind telling me where I am?" The woman raised an eyebrow. "You fainted as you spoke to me. So I brought you to the place I live. Gerudo Town. Luckily you're a vai, otherwise any medical care for you would've been scarce." Em looked back to the woman. "And I presume I'm in your quarters, Lady....?" The woman smiled. "Urbosa. I am the Gerudo Chief. And you're quite correct." Em pushed herself off the scarlet sheets, wincing again as a curtain brushed her shoulder. "You've got a very bad looking sunburn, don't you?" The Hylian glanced at the Chief, lowering her eyes. "Yes, do forgive me but that is the reason I was in the pool of Naboris, my shoulders ache in the sun and the water was cool." Urbosa chuckled. "Indeed, I too have done so. The reason I asked you why you were there is because, usually, only the Chief is allowed to bathe herself in it's waters. But it seems you were allowed to swim in it as well as I can. Strange." Em nodded, dumbfounded.

"I- would you happen to have anything for sunburns or are all Gerudo born with a tan, and they don't burn?" Urbosa laughed and stood to her full height, strutting over to a table made only of the finest gold. She took an orange elixir from the table and handed it the the Hylian, who was quite embarrassed at how short she was. The Chief was two feet taller than her! How was she not going to feel intimidated? Em took the potion from the Gerudo gently, and downed the bottle. The sunburn went away with ease, and Em smiled. "Thank you, Lady Urbosa. I'm at your service if you need me. My name is Em." Urbosa smiled. "Em. What a lovely name. Do you know its origins?" "It is short for Émpeiros, which means skilled in an Ancient language most have forgotten. Though it is a beautiful name, I feel it does not suit me. The only reason I fainted was because I failed to hunt a hind for meat, she escaped me. I do not feel skilled." Urbosa looked at the Hylian, her stare penetrating. "I think your name suits you perfectly, though you may be great in a certain area, you have less honed skills in another. You are definitely good at something. You yourself must find out what that something is. Now, how about some food?"

#urbosa x reader #urbosa x female reader #botw #loz breath of the wild #loz gerudo #gerudo town

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commentaryvorg · 5 years ago

Text

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 4.7

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 chapter 4 started being less character arc and more plot, everyone entered the Virtual World upon Miu and Kokichi’s totally-not-suspicious suggestion, Kaito was a dog and we rounded out his list of Manly Things with curiosity and playfulness, and he was also on extremely high alert over Kokichi doing anything suspicious but let Gonta slip under his radar because there’s obviously no way Gonta would do anything bad.

Now we’re in the chapel, discussing how everyone is going to split up to search the Virtual World.

Kokichi: “Oh, yeah… Before we split up, I wanna ask you something, Miu.”

[Kokichi and Miu whisper to each other]

Here’s another way in which Kokichi is deliberately sabotaging the mercy kill plan before it’s even happened. He’s not stupid enough to have forgotten their planned meeting place, but he’s pretending he has and confirming it here in the hopes that someone will overhear (which indeed Keebo does), giving Shuichi yet another clue which will make figuring out Miu’s plan (and therefore Gonta’s guilt) far easier in the trial.

Maki: “So, who’s going to decide how we split up?”

Kaito: “Just leave it all to me! I’ll figure out how everyone should split up in a flash!”

Look, guys, Kaito’s still being useful and a leader! And also he probably wants an excuse to put himself in the same team as both his sidekicks, as well as probably Kokichi so he can keep an eye on him. (And… what if he would have put Gonta in a different team than Kokichi to stop anything potentially bad happening. I bet he would have done.)

Miu: “No, no! Hold up! I’ll decide that! I know this world better than any of you, so I’ll decide!”

She doesn’t really know this world any better than anyone else now that everyone’s explored the whole place (aside from a couple of rooms in the mansion that don’t have anything relevant in them anyway). That’s just an excuse to let her organise her murder plan. She’s kind of bad at this.

She puts Kaito on the roof, of course, so that when she logs him out in order to frame him it’ll get him out of the way of her meeting with Kokichi. Also potentially so that if they do figure out Kokichi was killed on the Virtual World rooftop, Kaito will still look the most suspicious.

Kaito: “Huh!? Why do I gotta go up to the rooftop!? It’s freakin’ cold out there!”

Kokichi: “Yeah! There’s no way the faint-hearted Kaito can search in the cold!”

Kaito: “Alright! Bring it on! All I gotta do is search the rooftop, right?”

Aaaand Kokichi, knowing full well Miu is doing this for her plan, deliberately helps it along for her.

Miu then puts Kokichi in the salon, because he’s supposed to end up dead, which means that nobody will be able to vouch for the fact that Kaito didn’t go to the salon to log himself out.

Then she doesn’t give a fuck other than putting herself on the chapel team. Which makes it kind of obvious that she’s got a hidden agenda here. Literally all you needed to do was randomly pick additional people to assign to other rooms, Miu, it wouldn’t have been hard. You’re terrible at this.

(And if she’d randomly happened to put Gonta on the chapel team, then that would have saved her life.)

Kokichi: “Then Gonta should come with me. We can search the mansion’s surroundings, since no one else wants to deal with the cold.”

Gonta: “Okay… Gonta come with you.”

Gonta is just being heartbreakingly subdued and obedient. Usually he’d be more cheerful about being given something he can be helpful with, but not now.

Kokichi: “Mm-hm, a true gentleman must always volunteer to do the dirty work.”

FUCK YOU AND YOUR DOUBLE MEANINGS, KOKICHI

Tsumugi: “So… you’re just going to use Gonta again. I’ve decided! I’m going that way too! I have to make sure you’re not abusing poor Gonta!”

I’ll give Tsumugi this: she seems pretty committed to her act of pretending to care about Gonta’s wellbeing. I don’t know if she knows what Kokichi is planning for him – probably not, and even if she was it’s not like she’d stop it because it’s an excellent story – but in terms of the character she’s pretending to be, this bit about her being on Gonta’s side is one of the most consistent things she does. I haven’t been pointing it out every time, but it’s been there.

Kaito: “We still need one more for mansion duty. Shuichi, come with us.”

Shuichi: “Ah, okay…”

Maki: “…”

Shuichi: (Is Maki upset…? Because she’s all by herself now?)

There’s this whole bit here, during the ensuing optional dialogue as well, with Maki quietly glaring (at either Kaito or Shuichi, it’s not clear which), presumably because… she’s mad that Kaito picked Shuichi to go with him and not her? But it just doesn’t feel right to me. Yes, I’m sure she would have preferred to go with Kaito than be stuck with neither of her close friends, but she’s not the kind of person who would get actively mad about it, especially not when they have more important things to be doing. The writing is probably trying to pretend that this is about her romantic feelings for Kaito and that she’s all jealous that Kaito would rather hang out with Shuichi than with her, but no, fuck off, that’s such a goddamn stereotypical way for someone to be acting upon romantic feelings (not to mention hugely dickish to your other friend). Maki isn’t like that at all; please remember the time two days ago where she could barely even comprehend that she had such feelings.

As an optional bit of dialogue, Miu suggests making this entire place their new reality and literally everyone (except Maki, who is still being inflicted with bad-writing-induced anger, and Gonta, who is very quiet) disagrees with her, then…

Miu: “Ugh… grghggh! I-I’ll make you regret this!”

Shuichi: (Regret this? What does she mean? She says such ominous things…)

You’re not being super subtle about the fact that you’re planning to kill us all, Miu.

Also, if you examine the organ in the chapel…

Shuichi: “…Kaede probably could have played the organ well too. …”

Aww. (It’s great how the game has occasional mentions of her such as this to make it clear that she’s still important to and having an influence on Shuichi even now. That’s something the first game utterly failed to do with Sayaka.)

On the way back to the mansion…

Miu: “Whoops, my hand slipped.”

[Miu “accidentally” drops the signboard in the river]

Nobody ever genuinely says that when their hand really did just slip. Again: she is so bad at this and Shuichi would have seen right through her if she’d actually succeeded in killing Kokichi.

Gonta is also still very quiet during this whole exchange about the missing bridge, even though you’d expect him to be worrying about the people on the other side or trying to find a way to help somehow. (This kind of quiet behaviour is something it makes sense that Kaito still wouldn’t pick up on, since he’s not paying any specific attention to Gonta, and without doing that it’s hard to notice a lack of something.)

Once they’re in the mansion, Kokichi doles out the other roles on the team and tells Shuichi and Tsumugi to go check the dining hall and kitchen – note how he leaves the entrance hall out of it, since he needs that to be empty. Kaito is still here during this conversation, which is briefly relevant later in a way the writing doesn’t draw explicit attention to, so keep this in mind.

Gonta: “…Gonta go now.”

Oh, Gonta, you poor thing. He’s just so quiet and defeated and sad, or at least that’s the implication given by his very few lines once you know what’s up. He is, however, suppressing it and not showing a visibly sad expression here, meaning that again, even Kaito probably can’t pick up on this due to the less nuanced expressions on the avatars.

Tsumugi: “It’s surprisingly cold out there, so be careful. You should come back here to warm up.”

Gonta: “Thank you… but Gonta okay. Gonta not smart enough to get sick.”

Gonta then also smiles upon Tsumugi’s concern for him. So things probably seem pretty fine and not worrying from the perspective of anyone with him, regardless of how perceptive they are.

Kaito: “Someone who isn’t smart wouldn’t want to save everyone… They’d only think of themselves.”

Gonta: “Oh… thank you.”

Aaaaaagh. These words from Kaito are the last thing anyone says to Gonta before he becomes a murderer in a desperate attempt to save everyone. Maybe that helped him feel just a tiny bit less awful about it. He may be about to become a murderer, but he is so, so far from being stupid.

And it’s absolutely lovely that Kaito thinks this: that meaningful intelligence isn’t about book smarts or whatever but is about how much you care about others and how often you’re thinking about how to help everyone around you. In fact, that would explain why Kaito always gets so mad when people call him an idiot! It’s not because he cares that they think he’s book-dumb – he knows he’s not, but he doesn’t ever bring up that fact to correct people because it’s not the point. It’s because he takes it as them assuming he doesn’t care about anyone but himself, and of course he’d hate others getting that impression of him! That also fits perfectly with the fact that Maki has never stopped calling him an idiot but Kaito stopped complaining about it once they were friends – in other words, once it became clear that she knew he cared about helping her and therefore didn’t mean “idiot” in the sense that bothers him.

It’s also amusing to realise, considering how much I like to call Kaito “idiotically selfless” or words to that effect, that he would see that as a complete oxymoron.

Tsumugi: “I want to go back to my real body.”

Kaito: “Well… These avatars aren’t that bad, y’know?”

Shuichi: “Huh? These avatars?”

Kaito: “Just kidding! It’s just a joke! I’m just joking!”

You’re still kind of bad at this, Kaito. Lucky for you Shuichi’s being selectively oblivious here.

So they all split up to search for what is presumably quite a long time, until Shuichi and Tsumugi happen to be together as they hear the crashing sound.

Tsumugi: “Maybe that sound was something falling off the roof?”

Shuichi: (But… the person on the roof is…)

Welcome to yet another instance of first-time-me being utterly terrified Kaito was dead. By all rights, Shuichi should be too, but… he isn’t? Moments after, they hear Keebo’s voice, and then even if you attempt to get Shuichi to go check the rooftop, he’ll just insist he needs to go outside to check if that was Keebo. Like, geez, you heard Keebo’s voice so at the very least he’s alive, but what if Kaito isn’t???

This is admittedly the first time Kaito’s been possibly dead in which it even makes sense for Shuichi to potentially think that and be worried about it. So, since there’s actually no precedent for how Shuichi would react to this, maybe I’m just overestimating his ability to even think Kaito is dead. More on that in a bit.

This is also the first time Kaito’s been explicitly possibly dead in which the primary out-universe point of this event isn’t actually to make you think he’s dead. That’s just an unintended side effect of the real reason for it, which most directly is that Miu was trying to frame him, but in a more out-universe writing sense (since Miu really could have tried to frame anyone and it didn’t have to be Kaito) her framing him has a deliberate purpose for Kaito’s character arc during this case.

Look at where Gonta is standing when they run into him outside. He has not just come from checking the mansion’s surroundings, has he. The only place he could have come from is that dead end to the side of the mansion where we’re going to find the toilet paper later. This right here is the conclusive proof that Gonta is the murderer.

Tsumugi: “You heard that loud noise, right?”

Gonta: “O-Oh… Gonta hear noise, but Gonta not see anything.”

Gah, look at Gonta having no choice but to lie to them in order to be able to save everyone. He looks sad as he says this, not because he’s disappointed he couldn’t be more helpful, but because he hates lying to them.

Shuichi: (And what about Kaito? He should have heard that from the roof… He would have run over here right away… What’s going on?)

YES AND YOU SHOULD BE MORE WORRIED ABOUT HIM BECAUSE OF THAT

Shuichi: (…Alright. My talent… is solving mysteries. So that’s what I’m going to do.)

Aww, look at Shuichi psyching himself up to solve this even though he’s clearly kind of confused and freaked out right now. He really is good in a crisis.

Gonta: “What happen? Did something happen to Keebo?”

This isn’t Gonta having to lie or hide anything, since he’s probably genuinely confused as to why Keebo was heard nearby – he knows he sent Miu sliding through the wall, but he presumably doesn’t realise that the chapel is on the other side of it.

Gonta: “Leave it to Gonta! Gonta just need to carry signboard!?”

Oh Gonta you precious thing. He is now a murderer and he’s intending to get everyone else mercy-killed soon but he’s still trying to help out in even the smallest ways!

Gonta: “But board is so thin. Will it be okay? What if board breaks this ti—”

At this point Gonta has already used toilet paper that didn’t break, so really he should have grasped this rule, but apparently he hasn’t? I guess Kokichi didn’t bother trying to explain the rule to him properly and just told him it was special toilet paper.

Keebo: “We’re not sure, but her avatar isn’t moving. Maybe something happened in the real world that’s preventing her from moving it.”

This is kind of a misleading description. From this alone, it gives the impression she’s standing there, frozen, which presumably would be what would happen if someone was killed in the real world and lost connection with their avatar. But not only is her avatar not moving, it’s lying face down on the ground. You know, as if she was murdered in here or something.

Maki: “…Hey, where’s Kaito?”

Shuichi: “Ah, Kaito! I-I don’t know, I ran here as fast as I could, I didn’t check the roof…”

Maki: “…You didn’t even bother going to the roof to get him. You’re colder than I thought.”

I guess we can assume that Shuichi was so wrapped up in the panic of it all that he didn’t even think to check the roof (and that mine and any other sensible players’ attempts to get him to do so weren’t canon). And from the way Maki says “get him”, not “check on him”, it seems she’s running under the assumption that Kaito isn’t dead and Shuichi was just kind of a dick for forgetting to include him in the running around in a panic that we’re all doing. Which makes sense, since Maki saw Miu’s virtual corpse and so she started off with the impression that if someone’s dead, it’s probably Miu, and therefore Kaito’s probably safe. Shuichi still has less excuse.

Only a little later, once Maki confirms that Kaito isn’t on the roof…

Maki: “But don’t worry… He’s stupid enough to get himself killed, but I know he won’t really die.”

Shuichi: “…” (I suppose that’s true. I don’t have to worry about him…)

But this is presumably why Shuichi wasn’t nearly as worried as he should have been. Even though he says he supposes that’s true like he’s only just realising this here, the fact is that Shuichi has always been low-key under the impression that Kaito is basically invincible, such that it apparently doesn’t even occur to him (or to Maki for that matter) that there’s still a possibility he could get killed at some point. Well done, Kaito, all your insisting that you couldn’t possibly be worried or hurting about anything somehow succeeded in getting your sidekicks to really see you that way.

Gonta: “Um… So Gonta just say name in phone, and someone come get him?”

And there goes Alter Ego Gonta logging out and temporarily ceasing to exist. We won’t see him again until the end of the trial.

Kokichi: “Now that we’re alone, I wanna tell you something.”

Shuichi: “…What is it?”

Kokichi: “You’re really useful.”

Really, Kokichi? Because if you really think that about Shuichi, then why the fuck does your future plan in chapter 5 not use him as your accomplice and instead just completely glosses over the fact that his “usefulness” if used against you is going to make the plan fail? Good job being thoroughly aware of another of the reasons your plan is terrible and then doing it anyway.

Kokichi: “So, how about you stop hanging out with dumb ol’ Kaito, and be *my* friend instead?”

It’s really annoyingly entitled of Kokichi to act like this when he’s done absolutely fuck all to earn Shuichi’s friendship, while Kaito has done everything and more to deserve it.

Kokichi: “I think I can be useful to you too… y’know? I can help you save everyone. And you wanna save everyone, riiiiight?”

And now Kokichi is trying to manipulate Shuichi through his desire to save everyone, even though there was a perfectly good way to save everyone this chapter without getting Miu and Gonta killed that Kokichi didn’t feel like sharing.

Shuichi quite rightly nopes out of this conversation without saying a word. Presumably he’s figured that Kokichi is just trying to manipulate him and doesn’t actually care about saving everyone at all.

Kokichi: “Nee-heehee… aw, I got rejected. But I won’t give up that easily. When I find someone I like, I’d do anything to get them to notice me… even strangle them.”

I gather this is one of the lines that people use to argue that Kokichi has a crush on Shuichi. And… okay, sure, even my aromantic brain can accept that that’s probably what’s being implied here (especially given he’s alone and therefore has no reason to be lying). But… so what? Even if Kokichi has a crush on Shuichi, that has absolutely no relevance to Kokichi’s meaningful role in the story – not any of the parts of his character that are interesting, nor the things he does in the plot. So it’s bizarre and frustrating to me that the writers broke Shuichi’s POV for what simply isn’t a relevant enough part of the story to justify that.

Aaand Miu’s dead. Hooray. Now she can be more of an interesting character! I’m literally not even kidding – I’m going to be talking about her nearly every time she’s mentioned from this point on and I’m going to actually have fun doing so.

*ding dong, dong ding!*

Monokuma: “A body has been discovered! Everyone, please report to the computer room… Wait, you’re already here. Wow, I get to bring you the body discovery announcement live!”

Not everyone’s here; Kaito isn’t. So I have to assume that, despite Monokuma claiming he’s only doing this live, he still did broadcast at least the first part of it in order for Kaito to hear it.

Consider how the body discovery announcements don’t tell you whose body it is. And remember the conversation Kaito and his sidekicks had near the beginning of this chapter discussing how Shuichi is the most likely target for a future murder, in which Kaito fiercely promised he’d protect both of his sidekicks despite having no way to guarantee that. How terrified must Kaito be right now that the victim could be Shuichi or Maki.

(This isn’t even the first time Kaito’s heard a body discovery announcement while alone and nowhere near the crime scene – in fact, it’s the third – but this would definitely be the most frightening one of all for him given the context.)

Gonta: “Gonta… not understand, either… Miu like this when Gonta wake up… Hey! What going on!? Why this happen!?”

Oh, Gonta. He understands this even less than everybody else does right now.

Gonta: “M-Murder…? Wh-What you mean!? Did something happen while Gonta sleep!?”

This isn’t even that subtle about it! You’d think that if Gonta remembered the Virtual World, he would still feel like something happened while he was “asleep” and wouldn’t be phrasing his confusion in quite this way.

Keebo: “We weren’t asleep and that wasn’t a dream. We were in the Virtual World.”

…But then Keebo’s subsequent line does do a good job of making you instead jump to the assumption that the “sleep” Gonta’s talking about was just this.

Kaito gets here and says that he was taking a nap when the body discovery announcement woke him up.

Gonta: “You were sleeping? Gonta was sleeping, too! Had strange dream! Gonta not understand anything!”

The way that he associates it with Kaito’s nap also rather implies that he really does just see it as normal sleep. The “strange dream” is obviously meant to make you assume he’s talking about the Virtual World, but presumably what it really was was just a regular dream caused by his subconscious brain doing weird brain things while his consciousness was in the simulation.

Kaito: “I didn’t know if it was okay to log back in, so I went back to my room and slept.”

That… doesn’t quite sound like something Kaito would normally do. I feel like he wouldn’t usually be so quick to just give up on their search for the secret of the outside world (and on keeping an eye on Kokichi’s potential scheme), and wouldn’t let himself be stopped by the possible risks of logging back in unplanned. So… his real reason for going back to his room proooobably has more to do with his illness than anything else. Maybe he really had coughed up blood while logged in and had to go change his clothes.

Also, if Kaito had logged back in straight away like he probably would have done if he wasn’t sick, then headed back to the rooftop where he was supposed to be… the murder might not have happened. Kaito is bound to realise this himself once it becomes apparent that the murder happened on the virtual rooftop. Yet again, he in particular could have prevented a murder but failed to do so, not just because he didn’t do a good enough job of getting through to Kokichi or keep a close enough eye on him despite how hard he was trying, but also in an even more direct way. If only he hadn’t been dying.

Shuichi: “We need to discover who killed Miu.”

Kokichi: “Nee-heehee… you seem ready. Well, of course you are. One of your dear friends was killed, so it’s finally time for you to shiiiine!”

This seems like Kokichi being a dick to Shuichi, who hates the way he can only be useful once someone is already dead. But it’s also Kokichi being a dick to Kaito, because the fact that Shuichi is so much better at saving people than him has been eating away at Kaito more and more lately.

Shuichi: “I’ll find the culprit so that we can all survive.”

Kokichi: “…Even if the culprit is Kaito?”

What exactly the fuck are you trying to prove here, Kokichi, you know the culprit isn’t Kaito.

Monokuma: “I’m certain you guys’ll make this turn of events very entertaining!”

Yes, someone sure has done his best to make this case very entertaining. Again, good job, Kokichi, you gave Monokuma exactly what he wants.

Kokichi: “Well, what’re you sad about? You guys hated her! Not as much as you hate me, but still!”

Tsumugi: “Th-That’s not the issue… Of course I thought she was loud and annoying, but…”

Kaito: “I never wanted her to die. I wanted us all to escape together.”

Kokichi is trying even harder than usual to suppress his basic human decency now that he’s killed someone himself. Basic human decency is the only reason anyone else (except Keebo, who had some semblance of a connection with her) is upset about Miu’s death right now, but that’s still more than enough reason to be horrified that a person they knew is dead. But Kokichi’s trying to tell himself that it’s totally okay that he killed her since everyone hated her anyway, right? No, too bad, it doesn’t work like that. You’re still a murderer, Kokichi.

Gonta: “Urgh… Gonta no can forgive this. Gonta… never forgive this. Never forgive culprit, either… But Gonta never forgive self!”

SGHJSDGHJADGHJFSHJFD. I don’t think I need to say any more here.

Shuichi: (I’m… so tired of this awful feeling. I have to do something. I can’t let this—)

Kaito: “Shuichi, don’t carry the burden all by yourself.”

Kaito is still incidentally being a huge hypocrite and probably still overcompensating for his own sense of inferiority here… but his heart’s 100% in the right place regardless. Even though Shuichi didn’t say anything out loud, Kaito can pick up on the fact that he’s putting a lot of undue pressure on himself just because he’s the detective, so of course Kaito should still try and encourage him not to do that.

Kaito: “You’re my sidekick! Don’t forget. We’re gonna do it together! If we work together, we can solve this—”

This is a little more off the main point, though. Shuichi almost certainly can solve the case on his own, after all (and Kaito knows it). The point of Kaito’s support isn’t that Shuichi wouldn’t be able to solve the case without him, but that doing so would be a lot less painful and stressful for Shuichi if he has his friend by his side throughout it. But here Kaito is trying to imply that Shuichi absolutely needs him and not just that he’s an optional extra help to make things a little easier to bear.

Kokichi: “Shuichi is the most reliable person in a class trial, y’know? Why would we let such an important person work together with a suspect like you?”

Even if we disregard everything about how much Shuichi believes in Kaito and assume that he really is the most obvious suspect right now (which he’s not, because he’s so obvious a suspect that it’s clearly not him), this is still a completely backwards argument. Shuichi investigating together with the prime suspect would be a good thing, because then he’d be able to keep a close eye on them, make sure they don’t try to destroy evidence, and notice any suspicious reactions they have that might otherwise have slipped under the radar.

Kaito was also technically one of the main suspects back in case 2 by virtue of being one of only a few people without an alibi. But the very fact that he willingly chose to investigate with Shuichi that time immediately made him less suspicious, because the real culprit wouldn’t have wanted to increase the risk of Shuichi picking up subtle signs that they did it. And, of course, Shuichi noticing subtle suspiciousness from his investigation partner probably contributed to him ending up so sure that Kaede did it in case 1.

Kaito: “You’re saying that if I was the culprit, Shuichi would hide the truth to protect me?”

I mean, if Shuichi was going to do that, he’d do that regardless of whether Kaito investigated with him or not, so again, Kokichi’s argument is terrible. But…

Kaito: “Bullshit! Don’t underestimate Shuichi! Even if I was the culprit, he’s the type of guy that’d see things through!”

Kaito is so fucking good. It’s completely inconceivable to him right now that he would ever kill someone or try to deceive Shuichi, and he knows just how much faith Shuichi has in him. But Kaito believes so strongly in Shuichi’s convictions as a detective that he has complete faith that even if the inconceivable did come to pass, Shuichi would still be able to do what he knows he needs to to save everyone.

And of course, that’s exactly what ends up happening. The foreshadowing is delightful.

(And apparently Kokichi can’t grasp this concept, because if he did, then he would know full well that making Kaito the accomplice in his plan was never going to work.)

Plus, not only is this delicious foreshadowing for case 5, it’s also quite relevant to this case as well. Shuichi has more faith in Kaito than he does in anyone else, so it follows that if Kaito believes Shuichi would be able to pursue the truth of him being the culprit, he also believes Shuichi would be able to pursue the truth of anyone else being the culprit – even someone else Shuichi has a lot of faith in, such as Gonta. So what’s going to happen in the trial when Kaito starts to get angry at Shuichi really isn’t as much about belief and doubt as it might seem. Kaito has clearly stated right here that he knows Shuichi would – and should – pursue the culprit even if it turns out to be a person that he wants to believe in.

Kokichi: “But, remember Kaede’s class trial—”

Kaito: “He saw us through that, didn’t he!? I believe in Shuichi!”

Exactly. We already have concrete proof that Shuichi is capable of proving his closest friend to be a murderer if that’s what it seems like he has to do. Your future plan is never going to work, Kokichi, you absolute moron.

Kokichi: “Nee-heehee… You love to believe, don’t you, Kaito? But that belief can turn against you, especially in this killing game, y’know?”

So, of course, this is also foreshadowing for how this trial is going to turn out for Kaito, and Kokichi’s very much doing this on purpose.

Kokichi’s been constantly trying this whole game to shove his philosophy that believing in people is a terrible idea down everyone’s throats, particularly Kaito’s. It sure is convenient for that attempted message of his that his master plan just happened to incidentally involve him turning the most inherently trustworthy person in here into a murderer, now, isn’t it. While Kokichi is telling himself that this whole murder here is just for the purpose of backing up his future lie that he’s the mastermind, I don’t think that’s really the only reason it happened.

But also, this brings to mind the thing I talked about a couple of chapters ago regarding the two different kinds of “believing in” someone, first just trusting that they’re a good person and secondly believing in their potential to be awesome. Kaito was talking about the latter kind of belief with regards to Shuichi here – and honestly, the former kind, about whether or not Shuichi would kill someone, hasn’t ever been in question by anyone since the first trial ended. But Kokichi turned around and suddenly made this about the former kind of belief instead – because that’s the only kind of belief that’s relevant to Kokichi, since his entire worldview revolves around the conviction that everyone who feels it is wrong. Kokichi can’t believe in anyone’s potential to do amazing things, because that would require believing in them as a person first. Maybe that’s part of why he idiotically thinks Shuichi won’t figure out his plan in chapter 5.

Kaito: “Heh… I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about… I don’t get it at all…”

It seems that while Kaito has unshakeable faith in Shuichi’s ability to find the truth even if it involves someone he believes in being a murderer, Kaito isn’t quite so sure about his own ability to accept such a painful truth, should it come to that. (Remember that Kaito had a harder time accepting that Kaede did it than Shuichi did, in the end.) So he’s trying to brush it off and tell himself that Kokichi’s just talking nonsense and he doesn’t have to worry about it.

Kaito: “Fine, if you’re gonna get all worked up over it, then me and Shuichi won’t team up.”

It’s actually a little surprising to me that Kaito concedes on this. I guess he just figures that if he doesn’t, Kokichi will continue to pester them about this the whole investigation and it won’t be worth it.

Kaito: “That said, try to get through this on your own! Clear me of suspicion with your own power!”

That and he knows that Shuichi’s strong enough by now that he can get through it on his own and doesn’t really need anything more than Kaito cheering him on from the sidelines.

…And it was Kokichi’s insistent dickishness that pushed Kaito into acknowledging that. Hm. I wonder if that was deliberate.

Shuichi: (Of course, this is Kaito we’re talking about, nothing I say could change his mind.)

I mean, he clearly still wants to investigate with you, Shuichi – if you were stubborn enough and insisted to Kokichi that no, fuck you, I can investigate with whoever I damn well choose and I choose Kaito, then that would at least potentially get him to shut up. Buuuut Shuichi is still really passive even when he’s in Ultimate Detective mode, so instead we get stuck with Kokichi for half an investigation.

Shuichi: (I can’t be afraid… I can’t get lost now. In order to protect everyone, I have to do something. I have to do something…)

Shuichi still is putting a little too much of the burden all on himself, though. Don’t forget that Kaito believes in you even if he’s not investigating with you, Shuichi!

---

[Next post]

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #chapter 4 #daily life #deadly life #commentary

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h0nie · 6 years ago

Text

Number 29 | Chapter One

11.25.18

↳ m.list | prologue | 01 | 02

pairing: athlete!yoongi x photographer!reader

genre: drama, humor, au

word count: 8k

⌜ a/n ⌟ fun fact: the corgi part is based off an actual experience I had with my sister. Also, the mentioning of the football players is exactly what I saw one of them do, absolutely disgusting.

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Through your eyes, you viewed the world uniquely from others; a captivating place that men and women were given the privilege to walk on.

Who knew, that observing through the clear lenses of a camera, anyone, even a living creature was able to experience the euphoric feeling that displayed in front of them; coordinating yourself within various of angles that you wouldn’t believe to envision that existed before you — just through the thickness of a lens.

From the scintillating sun that dazzled beautifully off the reflection of the ocean sea to capturing the quintessential moment of the ombré mixture viewed in the hazy sky, changing elegantly within a split second; pigments of autumn leaves shrivelling, ere dropping softly — transitioning to the winter breeze.

Snapping pictures of practically everything, you treasured every piece you took. You saw the perfection of it all, obtaining peace and comfort. Dwelling in your own little world, your own adventure; happiness through every landscape you came across.

After taking an interest in your high school’s photography class, you learned everything about the lingering emotions and distinction behind every concept; following the year by begging your parents in buying you, your very own black digital camera.

The camera that you loved and held onto so protectively throughout your entire high school days; keeping it alongside you wherever you went — you hadn’t stopped since — joining the yearbook committee right after, leading you here; Ridgeview’s newspaper editor.

Outside on the team’s football field, where you laid. Your entire body sprawled out on the grass while you held your camera above your face. The glasses that were previously on your nose, were now settled on your forehead as you looked through the pictures you had taken from the recent basketball game; deleting the ones you didn’t like.

Concentrating and humming along to the music that blasted loudly out your earbuds, you were oblivious to notice a slim figure approaching. It wasn’t until you had accidentally clicked out of the pictures and saw a face pop up, focusing into view — smiling as they leaned down at you.

You violently shook, “Jesus Christ!” You shrieked, nearly dropping your camera on your face.

You took out your earbuds just in time to hear a faint laugh escaped from their mouth; plopping themselves next to you.

“You should have seen the look on your face. Like, you’ve seen a ghost or something.” She giggled, recreating the frightened face jokingly.

You propped yourself up, bringing your glasses back on your face and crisscrossed your legs. “Ha-ha. Very funny.” You were unamused and your voice made it obvious.

“You weren’t at the coffeehouse today, so I figured you’d be here.” Taking her hands out from her pockets, she rubbed her hands together producing a bit of friction before blowing into them.

Yuri Yen, a second-year student like yourself and was also your best friend. Before moving here, she had originally came from Hong Kong with her family at the age of 4. You met Yuri back in high school during your junior year, having not one, but three classes throughout the entire semester.

Since the significant convenience of having classes together, it was a great conversation starter for you — asking whether if she understood the homework or if she did the homework at all.

The two of you even helped each other cheat on tests. Gradually, you seemed to talk to Yuri almost every day in class, instantly exchanging numbers and before you knew it, you two became close friends.

After graduating, you were excited and relieved to hear that Yuri was enrolling in the same college as you. Knowing at least someone, especially when that someone has been with you for years, put your mind at ease. You were thankful that you weren’t going to lose your best friend and be alone.

Her bangs shifted as the wind blew. A small smile crept up on your lips as you stared at her hair. She consistently kept her hair the same, even now. She never dared to get rid of her thin bangs that hung, along with her signature high ponytail that she wore every day.

Quite honestly, you had always viewed girls with bangs to be for preschoolers. You pondered, by having them at this age was a bit childish looking. But of course, your opinion had changed since learning that haircuts like these were popular in the Asian culture and after being around Yuri for so long, you realized that her bangs did as well, suited her well-rounded face.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” She re-adjusted herself, having now both her elbows securely on the grass as her face planted into her hands; legs up, swinging back and forth as if she were a little girl you thought.

“Well, for starters...” You drifted off, grabbing your camera and turning it on. You then handed the semi-heavy object to her.

“I’m now in charge of taking pictures for the basketball team. I had to take a couple during their tournament we had and I’m still debating which pictures I should submit for the papers.”

A constant beep came from the camera as Yuri clicked through. After a few moments, she stopped. “Woah, who’s that?” She turned, tilting her head as she looked up at you. Scooting closer, you peered over her shoulder.

It was the picture you had taken of all the boys together after they won. Her finger pointed at the screen, landing it right on top of a boy with dark brown hair. His expression was stone cold, showing no emotion. His eyes were dark, staring straightforward as if he was peering right through you.

“Apparently, that’s the almighty Yoongi.” You playfully joked. Yuri’s eyes widened in surprise, turning back to the screen, she clicked the button and zoomed in.

“No way, that’s who everyone talks about?”

You shrugged.

Why was Yoongi praised so much?

What was so great about him that people constantly talked about him?

He may be an athlete star in basketball, but that was all he really had and was known for.

“For a basketball player, you’d think he’d be a sasquatch. Thought he’d be a lot taller, to be honest.” You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement.

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You stood in silence, fiddling with your thumbs as you waited for your teacher’s approval. The room was quiet, with the exception of the ceiling fan quietly blowing; to your liking. Your eyes wandered around to occupy yourself.

Regardless, having been in this room for multiple occasions and knowing specifically what it held, you continued to stare as if you’ve never stepped a foot in the room.

Stacks of papers scattered around the desk as well as small photos of your teacher’s family members pinned to the small cork board he had. Your teacher, Kim Seokjin has been the head of the department since you’ve been here. You didn’t know too much about him, but overall, a nice man.

“Excellent job, _____.” Your teacher smiled, holding out your camera for your hands. You stretched out and grabbed it gently from him, letting the strap tug on the back of your neck as your camera dangled.

During your time out on the field, Yuri had helped pick out the pictures that were best for the newspapers.

“These will look fabulous once they’re printed. We also might frame some of your additional pictures around.” You couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. Adjusting your glasses, you looked up and returned a sheepishly grin after.

“You can start printing right away. The sooner, the better.” He clasped his hands together before placing them on his knees and got up from his seat. He grabbed a folder filled with papers from his desk and tucked it under his arm, “I’ll let you get to it,” as he made his way out.

You listened to the sounds of his footsteps distancing, although it wasn’t long until the sound echoed back. Presuming your teacher must have forgotten something considering he was a forgetful man at times, you saw his head peek back in the door.

“Say, _____. I recall you mentioning to me that you’d like to help out more, correct?”

You nodded.

A month ago, you had told Mr. Kim that you’d like to request something new to do, possibly join a new club perhaps? You’ve thought about seeking the art club, however, after one day in and compared your work to others, your untalented ass wasn’t going to cut it. So, scratch that off the list...

You had then asked for your teacher’s advice and he advised you that he’ll keep an eye out.

“Would you consider assisting the basketball team?”

“Me?” You gazed at him dumbfounded. “Helping the basketball team? By doing what?”

You didn’t know if your teacher had noticed at all, but your puny weak arms weren’t exactly capable of shooting a ball nor did you know anything about basketball.

He noticed the discomfort that was accumulating on your face and raised his hand towards you.

“Relax, they’re looking for someone who’s responsible and able to organized the binder’s spreadsheets, put away equipment, clean up — the basics.”

You nibbled the corner of your lip, hesitant about the offer.

“You don’t need an answer immediately, they aren’t in a rush. I think this would be beneficial and convenient for you, considering you're going to have to take numerous amounts of pictures of the team anyways."

He did have a point, though you still weren't convinced.

"If you do consider it and you have the chance, stop by the gym.”

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Your snug jacket sheltered around your body whilst the noisily sound of your laptop and binders shuffled in your backpack — within each step your fuzzy boots made against the pavement.

The weather was bitterly cold; fluffy clouds began to arise, cowling the blue skyline — unfolding itself to a grey-like colour above your head. Trees rustled against the wind, detaching several individual leaves as you crossed.

You heavily sighed steadily, scrutinizing as the frosty breath slipped from your lips, dissolving itself into the air.

Leaves from the ground swarmed as it spun in a tornado-like manner; as the gelid of wind whispered throughout the streets, its icy breeze slashing utterly through your layers. You gripped your jacket tight — the dangling of your hair dancing rhythmically to the Zephyr.

A red blossom tinged with pink faded, appearing subtly on the apples of your cheeks and the tip of your nose. You instantly nestled your face into your scarf as you felt the sharp shiver snaking its way up your spine.

Still, you did not mind the weather in the slightest. The serene sound of peacefulness filled your ears, relishing your solus stroll.

As the outline of the coffeehouse came into view, you sensed the excitement pulsating its way through your body. When entering, you were immediately greeted by the lukewarm heat and smell of coffee beans; brewing deliciously, trickling in the inners of your nose.

You settled yourself in, taking your jacket off and planting it on your chair; ordering yourself, your beloved cinnamon dolce latte with extra whipped cream.

The coffeehouse to you was a perfect go-to place when needed to take your mind off things or on treacherous amounts of work. For you, you referred to it your safe place.

From the therapeutic aesthetic to the lightly lit fireplace; the amazingly tasting coffee — you found yourself coming here nearly every day, drowning yourself in the indie music that played softly in the background. All your anxieties, all your stress; swept away.

Removing the lid from the cup, the steam elevated beautifully as you took a straw, shredding its wrapper off and dunk the thin tube in. You sipped, savouring the flavour that awaited.

The hotness of the latte made its way down your throat; lifting the straw out before licking the cream carefully off. You were promptly filled with energy — motivated to work grind and finish your assignments.

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Approximately 8:30 p.m. The time radiated on the corner of your laptop. You had stayed in for a whole 4 hours, ultimately losing track of time.

You closed out of the tab and took your glasses off, placing them discreetly above your head. You rubbed your eyes and held them shut for a moment before opening them and drawing out your phone.

On your screen, text messages from Yuri. She had texted a few minutes ago.

⌜ Today 8:22 PM ⌟

Yuri: HeYyyyYyyYy, we’re friends right?? [8:22]

Yuri: and you know that I love you [8:23]

You: New phone, who dis? [8:34]

Instantly, Yuri replied back.

Yuri: omg- [8:34]

Yuri: oKAY, remember that time during English I let you borrow my pencil cuz I’M NICE [8:34]

Yuri: remember that time where I gave you my jacket when it was cold [8:34]

Yuri: remember that time when I bought you a juice box at the vending machine? [8:35]

You rolled your eyes and giggled.

Typical Yuri.

A pattern that you knew all too well. Whenever she was in need of something from you, she would unimpressively bombard you with things she’s done; like this.

You: Alright, shut up, I get it. [8:35]

You: What do you want? [8:35]

Yuri: can you get me food? [8:35]

You: Can you get off your lazy ass for once and go to the store yourself? [8:35]

Yuri: Blocked. Reported. Deported. Actually, block my number. You’re so rude ;( [8:36]

You: Yeah, yeah. Anyways, guess what Mr. Kim said to me today [8:36]

Yuri: which one? the one for the newspaper? [8:36]

You frowned at the text. You’ve only mentioned one Mr. Kim to her.

You: No, the janitor who cleans the girl’s washrooms. [8:37]

Yuri: MAY I REMIND YOU THAT THERE ARE SEVERAL MR. KIM’S IN THE SCHOOL [8:37]

You snickered.

You: He asked me if I’d like to help with the basketball team [8:37]

You: Probably not gonna do it. [8:38]

Yuri: WHY?! [8:38]

Reading Yuri’s text, you could practically hear her screaming at you for not wanting to go.

Yuri: um, hellooo? Getting to see hot boys every day in their sweaty uniforms? YES PLEASE! [8:38]

Yuri: if you’re not going to do it then I will! [8:38]

“Ugh-“ You groaned, disappointingly shaking your head at her response. Of course, that’s the first thing she thought of.

Once again, typical Yuri.

Yuri: Seriously _____, I’d say go for it. You might even make some new friends ;D [8:38]

Yuri: It’s a nice change from you always having your face glued to your camera. Just try it out and if you don’t like it, drop it. [8:39]

Maybe Yuri was right.

Maybe helping with the basketball team would be a good change to your routine.

Your routine consists; waking up early every morning at the same time, going to your communal kitchen and eating toast with jam, head to your classes whilst Yuri annoys you, get back to your dorm, and then go to bed.

Pretty plain and boring.

Every day was the same repeated cycle so having miniature perks of having your daily dose of your desired beverage and you exploring out — taking pictures, you were undoubtedly grateful.

Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have a slight change in your life... You were a little wary of the situation; though, you’d start deliberately thinking about it more.

Closing your laptop and placing it back in your bag, you swung your jacket on and grabbed the half-empty coffee cup. Your eyes fixated back down at your device, thinking of a shrewd reply to Yuri as you managed your way to the doors.

Your thumb tapped on the screen, unaware of your surroundings as you lifted your elbow that gripped the coffee cup to push the door. The door flew open from the other side, causing you to fumble — the chest of a stranger had thumped into you, stepping back in alarm.

You dropped the open cup, gasping at the unexpected sultry liquid that splattered on your chest. A brown puddle had now pooled; both your mouths hung open, processing what had transpired.

“Shit! I- I um — I’m sorry! L-Let me get you some napkins.”

Tightly shutting your eyes, you pressed your lips together, taking in a deep breath. You held it; letting it out slowly, restraining yourself to remain calm.

My favourite shirt...

You mentally sighed, examining your ruined shirt — not to mention that the colour was white.

“Here.” A fist full of napkins held out in front of your face that the stranger had gathered. You clutched the napkins from their hand and comprehended who the boy was.

Face-to-face was undoubtedly one of the school’s supreme point guard basketball player, Jungkook.

His jet-black hair poked out from his baseball cap; having three silver ring piercings, dangling from its side. He wore an expensive looking jacket accompanied by his denim jeans and timberlands — he was pleasantly well-kept you had to admit.

You relentlessly stared, taking in his facial features. One thing that stood out; under his lip, a noticeable tiny black mole. How un-peculiar to have. You’ve never seen someone with such an uncommon dot before. Seeing up close confirmed what everyone said about him. He was unquestionably good looking.

Picking up the now empty coffee cup and disregarding it in the garbage, you began wiping the mess, in hopes to at least soak some of the stains from your shirt. Jungkook also helped clean the remaining mess on the floor and tossed the dirty napkins that you handed to him, including the cup.

“I really am sorry.“ His eyes avoided yours as he rubbed the back of his neck. You let out a sigh once more, “It’s fine, it was an accident. I should have watched where I was going anyways.”

The two of you stood stiffly next to each other. You weren’t sure whether to buy a new cup yourself or leave without saying a word. Fortunately, the silence was broken — clearing his throat, “I’m Jungkook by the way.” I know. Naturally, everyone on campus knew of him.

He smiled as he stuck his hand out towards you. Putting your hand in his, you returned the gesture, “_____,” giving him a professional firm shake back.

“Let me buy you another one, wait here.” You promptly kept the grip on his hand, preventing the boy from walking away. “It’s really fine! Don’t worry about it.”

Now, we all know how these situations go; someone offers to buy something for you-you can’t accept it. It’s that gut feeling of guilt of not wanting to appear conceded rather than simply accepting — yet, many of us hope that the other pursues the offer.

“I insist. It’s the least I can do, please?” His voice; sincere and soft as his head titled adorably. Another cup would be nice, however, a new shirt would be greater.

“Okay...”

He instructed you to sit at a table as he went to order. When returning back, Jungkook carried a cup holder, carrying four cups of goodness. An eyebrow raised in confusion; passing your newly balmy cup of coffee in your hands. You didn’t question who the rest were for nor did he need to explain — wasn’t your business. Most likely for his friends.

“Do you go to Ridgeview? You look extremely familiar.”

“I do. I’m a second-year student. I’m mainly hidden in the college’s paper room, I’m their editor.” He mouthed an O shape; progressively, the two of you continued your discussion about school — leading towards the exit, allowing the fall gentle dust to whirl its wind, hitting you both. You watched as Jungkook’s hair moved with it.

The sky had darkened. Street lights flickered as well as the illuminating light that reflected from the coffeehouse, glistening on your bodies.

His index finger tapped on his chin, stopping himself as he hummed in a thinking state.

“I swear, I’ve seen you be-“

“Yah! Jungkook!” A yell hollered. Your heads subconsciously followed the sound. “What took you so long? We’ve been waiting for you!” From a distance, Hoseok and Yoongi emerged towards the well-lit frame.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” He lingers his eyes on you and simpers, “Got caught up.”

The lengthy boy shifts his attention towards you, “Caught up, ay?” Hoseok snickers, nudging Jungkook with his elbow prompting Jungkook to lightly bump into you.

“Who’s your friend?” He nods, acknowledging your presence. Hoseok’s notices the large stain on your shirt. Curious, he points subtly, wanting to say something but quickly seals his mouth and retracts his hand.

“Uh, this is _____. We just met actually. I accidentally spilt her coffee...”

“That explains the huge stain.” Hoseok chuckles.

A wave of heat flushed your cheeks, instantly shielding your chest with your jacket. How embarrassing.

You cough, shoving the encounter aside. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok.”

“Likewise.”

You gazed over at Yoongi. His dark chocolate-toned hair was styled messily; drooping forward — completely distracted by his phone.

A slap came across Yoongi’s shoulder. “Oi! Don’t be rude, say hi!” His nose scrunched, lifting his head to face you.

Hoseok gave him a look, “go on.”

“Hi.” Yoongi’s character and mood revealed he was uninterested. You gave him a tight smile. The tension was now becoming awkward.

Thankfully, Jungkook intervened. “She goes to Ridgeview with us.”

“Really?” Hoseok smiles radiantly. “Well, if we happen to see each other, you better say hi!” He taunts.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” As Hoseok kept the ongoing conversation, you tried your best to respond/listen to whatever he was saying.

You glimpsed over at Yoongi. He studied you, trailing his eyes, up and down at your figure — eyes matching yours. You immediately snapped away, staring at the ground. You shifted uneasily. You felt as though you were growing small, feeling Yoongi’s intimidating stare tower over you.

Hoseok checked his watch, “Crap, we better get going. We're already late as is.” You felt relieved. You all exchanged your goodbyes, except for Yoongi; who had already made his way. Hoseok apologized for his behaviour, jogging after him.

Disappointment stirred in your gut. You questioned yourself, presuming that you did something to irritate him to act so grim.

Interrupting your thoughts, Jungkook patted your back, “Don’t worry about him too much. He’s not usually like this. I promise you, when we meet again, it’ll be better.” You gave him a lopsided smile and thanked him for the reassurance and coffee.

Following his friends, the raven boy turned to you one last time for the night, waving, “I’ll see you around, _____!” Before sending you a wink as he walked away.

You watched the boy disappear and giggled, cute. Zipping up your jacket, you slipped out your phone and texted Yuri. You hesitated for a moment before pressing send.

You: Let’s stop by the gym tomorrow. [10:17]

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“Okay, hear me out,” a hand gently rocked your shoulder.

You promptly finished writing your sentence and dropped your pencil down, directing your attention to Yuri — who was trying to contain her laughter as she held her phone incredibly close to her face, shielding her screen from your view.

“What if, the inspiration for the shape of bagged bread, was inspired… by a corgi’s butt,” she laughed, plummeting her phone on the table and sliding it over.

The device’s screen unlocked, a full-blown image loaded. Sure enough, two pictures; a corgi’s bottom and bagged bread compared to side-by-side.

You glanced up from her phone, face kept neutral and lifted your glasses, massaging the bridge of your nose as well as letting out a low exhale of annoyance.

“Doesn’t that look like bread — ow!”

“Shhh!”

This was probably the sixth time the two of you-Yuri, had been constantly told, a numerous amount of times to keep quiet. You gave the old librarian another sympathetic look before turning back.

“Why’d you hit me?!” Yuri whisper-shouted, pouting while she rubbed her arm from your impact.

“First of all, would you keep it down? How many times is that lady going to have to keep shushing you?” By now, both of you knew that this was going to be the last time coming here.

“We’re…” you gestured all around, “in a library.” You looked back at the screen, “And no, it doesn’t look like bread,” it did.

You slide Yuri’s phone back, “Second, we’re supposed to be studying, why are you even searching that up? Put that away.”

She groaned, “Fine,” tucking in the small electronic in her pocket. “Good, now focus.” You opened your book and flipped to a page, Yuri does the same.

Not even a second later, she stops and leans in close to you, “So, when do you plan on visiting the gym, hmm?” You ignored her and continued reading, moving slightly away from her in your seat. You were hoping she wouldn’t bring this topic up, you’ve been avoiding the gym.

“_____, it’s been two weeks.” No answer. “Come on, what’s the big deal?” You sigh, closing your book, “I don’t have time for it, that’s all.”

The girl rolls her eyes and snorts, “Puh-lease, that’s bullshit and you know it.” She jabs her finger in your shoulder, pushing you back easily. You opened your mouth to protest, no, she’s right.

You did have the time, you simply didn’t want to see the boys, especially after your encounter — it was too… awkward.

Okay, maybe you were being dramatic over nothing, you still have exams to study and prepare for, not to mention, the newspaper committee as well. The other part of you was just, lazy.

“You do realize 2018 is coming to an end right?” You nodded, “What better way to start now, early — by helping the team!” She wacks your back, “Shhh!” Yuri’s eyes widen, forgetting that she was being loud, again and mouths a ‘sorry’, slumping in her seat right after.

You shook your head and pushed your glasses up, “You’ve been bugging me non-stop about this. Why do you want me to join so badly?”

Straightening herself, she took your hand into hers, “Listen, don’t take this personally, but you’ve changed a lot since high school… I just want you to try something new,” she pauses a moment to glance at your bag then back at you, “Something other than your camera?” You frowned, tilting your head.

Of course, there’d be a change. You didn’t think “changing” was a bad thing, it was you solely maturing as a person. The two of you weren’t high schoolers anymore, you were college students. One step closer to graduating and then, stepping out in the “real world.”

“What I’m trying to say is, you’ve limited yourself — more like isolated.” You kept your mouth shut, brushing off your best friend’s hold and picked up your pencil again. This time, it was Yuri’s turn to sigh, “Whatever,” and slipped out her phone.

You stopped writing and stared at the page. Were you isolating yourself?

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The entire time at the library yesterday was bothersome, you didn’t get any studying done. Yuri constantly kept disturbing not only you but the people who were studying nearby as well. Eventually, the librarian had enough and asked us to leave. Needless to say, neither of us are allowed back.

“Can’t take that girl anywhere, I swear,” you disappointingly shook your head and snickered. Checking your watch, it was still early, you didn’t have class in the next couple of hours. Perfect.

“Might as well kill some time,” shrugging off your bag, you unzipped your front bag’s pouch and pulled out your wallet; heading straight to the cafeteria to purchase some lunch.

You ordered yourself a regular sandwich and took a seat at an empty table. You peacefully enjoyed your lunch — stuffing your face full.

After finishing your meal, you decided that now would be the best to squeeze in a studying session, one that you should have gotten with Yuri.

Unfortunately, that studying session didn’t last long, having not being able to restrain yourself, you packed your things away and out came your camera; looking through your film for another deleting spree — a regular routine you’ve been doing so your storage wouldn’t be full when your next photo-taking adventure comes.

“Is that _____, I see?” That startled you, causing you to jump. The male‘s voice was low, you knew that voice. Steadily turning around, low and behold, it was none other than, Jungkook. “Oh, hey,” you say, watching him approach and then relaxing next to you. “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he lets out a chuckle.

He plants his head on the table and stares, his breathing is irregular; heavy puffs force their way, his nose flaring too. Must have worked hard during practice.

A baby blue coloured towel hung around his neck, wetness dripping from his forehead — straps and the torso part of his jersey clinging to his skin somewhat. He was remarkably sweaty.

Normally, when men produced large amounts of sweat, the odour that drifts from them was utterly putrid to the human nose. Having experienced the stench passing the football hallway; dear god, as if infrequent weeks of trash had been piling up, waiting to be thrown away but was stored in their lockers — by far, gut-wrenching to you.

That wouldn’t be the critical part — no. Arriving back from practice, the athletes would shove their revolting equipment in and would overboard spray their ENTIRE gear with the popular cologne, Axe.

Assuming the cologne would help the situation; the mixture of sweat and the manly fragrance did not go well together at all. Players would carelessly spray it, believing the Axe would neutralize it. Instead, the complete opposite — the smell worsens as if you’re being suffocated when walking through.

You’d have to admit, Axe itself is a pleasant, wonderful smelling cologne on men, particularly, for those who’ve applied an appropriate amount. You found it attractive — a turn on even; when a man’s scent smells astonishingly satisfying. You didn’t know how that was possible, but it was.

However, despite Jungkook’s current position, you didn’t feel grossed out or nauseated. He may be perhaps one of the sweatiest members you’ve ever seen on the team — that never stopped the acknowledgement of how remarkably charming he looked without trying.

“Saw you sittin’ here like a loner, so I decided to do my good deed of the day and accompany you,” he flashes you a cheeky smile, enough for his tiny left dimple to appear. “I’ll have you know, I do have friends.”

Jungkook raises his head up from the table, tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow, “Really?” Straightening his posture, he pans around the room, palm hovering near his forehead, “Cause I don’t see them.” You suppress a giggle and shove the male playfully.

Now that you consider it, you genuinely didn’t have friends, friends — real ones at least. There’s nothing wrong with you, it wasn’t as if you didn’t get along with people, you talked to almost everyone in the class. Except, none of them spoke to you outside of the course nor did you put in the efforts in carrying out another friendship that Yuri and you strongly had.

It also may be the fact that your social awkwardness got the best of you. You see, when wandering through the halls and seeing a classmate, coming to your direction, normal people would converse with them and walk with them even. You on the other hand? Oh boy.

Imagine this, a confused or concentrated expression, doesn’t matter who the person’s face you choose, think of that. Now, add several complicated math equations and questions surrounding them, as if their brain is clustered. That’s how you felt. Overthinking everything.

Should I say hi? Hey! What’s up, how are you? Is that too much? Am I coming off strong? What if my voice cracks? Oh god, I forgot their name.

By then, you wouldn’t even say anything. Abort mission. You’d take out your phone, doing the bare minimum to dodge any confrontation.

Example: sliding up your control panel to lower the brightness, going to notes and typing in some random shit or, your favourite, opening up Instagram to scroll through your already seen feed — something, anything to make it seem as if you were busy texting the friends you didn’t have.

“You’re right, you caught me. I don’t have any friends.”

Jungkook gasps and dramatically slaps his chest in a defensive-like matter. “Jheez, I’m only teasing you. I can’t believe you don’t consider me as a friend,” he begins to sniffle, wiping away his non-existent fake tears on his cheeks.

In all honesty, you didn’t see Jungkook as a friend to you, yet. Nor did you think that he thought about becoming friends with you too. Recurring back to the situation at the coffeehouse, you genuinely assumed that, that was going to be the last of it, but here you were, pretending to console Jungkook.

“Anyways, where’ve you been?” He said, “Haven’t seen you in a while.” You glanced away for a moment, then bit your lower lip and looked at Jungkook, “You know,” you scratched the back of your head and combed your fingers through your hair, “I’ve been, around.”

“We should hang out soon.”

“Uh-”

“Us and the rest of the guys, sometime this week, yeah?”

Without thinking, “For sure, yeah!” Your voice didn’t sound like your own, a bit higher pitched than usual, indicating your uncertainty whether or not to actually go or to bail at the last minute when the time comes.

“Hoseok has been complaining to me about not seeing you, he still wants that hi by the way,” he said, wiping his face with his towel and then giving you a wry smile. You nodded and smiled back.

Silence hung between you two, both mentally scrapping words to say to each other to keep the conversation flowing. You fiddled with the band of your black camera, Jungkook noticed, seizing the opportunity, “You’re always carrying that camera, huh?”

Tucking a large strand of hair behind your ear, you fixed your glasses and replied, “It’s kinda necessary when you’re doing the newspapers.” Jungkook opened his mouth and muttered an ‘Ahh,’ recalling the time you had told him when you two met.

“That’s it?” You stared down at your camera and switched it on, “No, I use it for my own personal use too.” The raven-headed boy scooted close to you, “Can I see?” Motioning to the camera. “What about your team? They’re probably waiting for you,” you said, showing him your watch.

“Nah, it’s fine,” and held the base of your camera, “Can I?” He repeated and you hummed in approval, reluctantly settling the thing on the table in front of him.

“You took all of these?” He voiced his amazement. Never in his life had he seen something so mesmerizing, so eye-catching. No words could describe what he saw. To Jungkook, it didn’t look real, as if all of them had been taken off the internet.

You leaned in next to him, shoulders now touching to see which one he’d stumbled across, “Mhm,” a sheepish smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

A picture that you caught last year of a frozen lake; beneath the mist that swirled, thicker than the pure white snowfall on the ground lies a naked tree, dwindled with budded twigs standing in the center of the overflowing cotton candy — sea-dwelling sky.

You could feel it, only remembering the coldness that you witness, kneeling down on your knee and snapping the picture, a picture you were proud of. The wind carried as you stood still, soaking it all in; just nature.

“You’re good,” Jungkook examined the photo repeatedly, never taking his eyes off it. “Like, really good,” he said, and you blushed. Finally lifting his gaze off the screen, returning you the camera, “You should teach me sometime, teach me a thing or two.”

You shook your head, “It’s not something you learn from, it’s something you experience,” you gestured with your hands, “Experiencing it will make you want to achieve more. See more. Feel more.” He pushed his lips together and formed a line as he nodded, not fully understanding but was willing to give it a shot.

Suddenly, you heard the noise of loud chatter emerging its way from the doors. The sound of, not one, not two, but Jungkook’s entire basketball team carrying their duffle bags and water bottles in hand. Jungkook had spent the majority of his time with you that practice had ended.

“Ay, that’s where Jungkook went!” One of them shouted, tapping Hoseok. The red-head nudged Yoongi and pointed towards you guys. He immediately marched over and waved, “_____!” Nearing closer, Yoongi just a few steps behind.

“Hey, Hoseok!” You beamed, imitating the wave. “Finally got my hi!” The three of you mustered a laugh, but Yoongi. He wore his signature stone-cold expression, hands were shoved in the pockets of his shorts as he shifted his weight on his left leg, peering down at you.

Hoseok and Yoongi were sweating, of course, however Yoongi; taken back, as if you’ve lost your ability to breathe — he was glowing. The tips of his brown hair, clumped together, full of wetness, sticking to his forehead, covering his eyes almost.

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and you felt your heart squeeze. You were lost for words, oh my god. You couldn’t help it, he looked so, breathtaking — literally.

If sweating and shining at the same time was going to look this good on someone, so be it; Min Yoongi was soon to be trademarking it as his brand.

You found yourself staring and tore your eyes away, nervously coughing. You collected your being before smiling shyly up at Yoongi. He beckoned his head, ‘Hey there’ and smirked. He knew you were staring at him just seconds ago.

Jungkook wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “Our friend _____ here agreed to hang out with us,” You weren’t so sure about going alone with the boys, though, they seemed harmless. Maybe you should invite Yuri, that way, you’d feel more comfortable.

Jungkook shoots you a bunny-like smile, “There’s a carnival happenin’ on Saturday, you guys wanna go?” Hoseok clapped his hands excitedly, “Yeah! We’d love to go, right Yoongi?” He shrugged and licked his lips, “I don’t care.”

Hoseok was trying his best, attempting to involve Yoongi in on the conversation as much as possible — a way to lighten up the mood between you two from last time, but even you could see the frown starting to form on Hoseok’s face.

“Right… We should probably add each other.”

Yoongi and you were the last to exchange numbers. He quickly finishes setting up the contact and waits for you. “Done,” handing back his phone, he does the same and gently brushes his fingertips against yours as he retracts the device.

Your heart skips a beat. You glance at Yoongi to see, he was on his phone, clueless. It was an accident, relax.

A groan escapes Jungkook as he stands up and stretches, hearing the sound of bone cracking. Snapping back from your daze, you lifted your glasses and rubbed your eyes before checking the time.

“Shit!” The three boys stared at you. You’ve been spending so much time with Jungkook earlier and sitting here now, that you completely forgot about your class.

“I gotta go,” instantly packing away your things. “I’ll set up a group chat sometime this week,” Hoseok said. You gave him a thumbs up and made your way, “You should come to see us during practice!” Jungkook called, “We’ll see!” You turned and grinned.

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The clicking of the bottoms of the shoes echoed on the hard surface. Yuri’s eyes observed as she leaned on the wall, following your figure pacing back and forth, left and right, over and over again. “So, do you ever plan on going in?”

You paused for a brief moment at Yuri’s words before continuing whilst chewing on your thumb’s nail; a habit that you’ve never seem to get rid of, a nervous habit that stuck with you ever since you were a kid.

“Never mind,” you finally said, shaking your head.

“What do you mean, never mind?” She cocked her head and pushed herself off the wall, both her hands now on her hips.

“Never mind, meaning I can’t do this,” you were still pacing, not as fast as you were before. You’ve been blowing this off for days until Yuri had eventually got fed up and basically drag you to stop by the gym and talk to the head coach.

You have been stalling outside the gym doors for the past 10 minutes, debating. Yuri’s expression changed, jaw dropped, dumbfounded, “You can’t do this?” She repeated, sweeping her hand over her bangs, now irritated.

“_____, we’re literally right outside the doors,” she grabbed at your shoulders, fully stopping you and spun you around, “Look, they’ve even made it easy for you,” her finger pointing at the gym’s direction, “The doors are wide open, just step in.”

“I know…” Trailing off, tip-toeing your way over. You peeked inside and scanned the room.

Not much to see, the team was warming up; two boys slacking off, your eyes averted onto the next one. Some guy picking his nose, next. One fixing his wedgie, umm? Your eyes then landed on Hoseok, he was practicing his shooting and then you saw Jungkook and Yoongi.

Jungkook’s knees were slightly bent, arms stretched wide, one arm somewhat higher than the other. His entire posture gave it away, he was playing defence against Yoongi. Jungkook attempted to steal the ball multiple times but Yoongi wouldn’t allow it.

A wide grin plastered on his face. He was having fun, enjoying himself, skillfully teasing Jungkook as if he had a chance. At that moment, it was the first time you’ve seen Yoongi genuinely smile, something other than a grave manner.

Yoongi saw you at the entrance and brushed passed Jungkook naturally, the same technique he used back at the tournament. He dribbling forward, making direct eye contact and gave you a cocky lopsided smile as he shot the ball in the air.

Your breath hitched at the sight. It went by so quick, you almost didn’t even see it. You could feel your heart thumping, the common heart squeezes in your chest recurring.

Swish.

Yuri cleared her throat, “Quit your drooling. You can gawk about which one’s the hottest later,” you snapped your head up at her, her arms folded.

“I’m just — I don’t know,” this whole thing was more complicated than it should have been. You weren’t nervous, were you? Even so, what was there to be nervous about?

What if I screw up the organization? What if none of the other guys like me? I have to make a good impression or else-

“You’re overthinking things again.”

You sighed in defeat, you were.

You wanted to scream in a pillow. Why must you make things hard for yourself? You poked back in the gym, eyes wondering to search for Yoongi.

Yuri caressed your back, “There, there. All you need is a small little push-” and with that, Yuri had shoved you in. “Oh my lord!” A scream escaped you as you fumbled to steady yourself, almost face-planting the ground.

A couple of members had noticed you, directly howling and whistling at your grand entrance. Others didn’t bother, resuming their practice as if nothing happened.

You sensed the embarrassment beginning to rise, burning away at your pink cheeks. You dusted and straighten your skirt, “Yuri, I swear I’m going to murder you-” you viewed back at the doors, she was gone.

The sound of your phone dinged. On your home screen, an unread text message appeared.

⌜ 1 New Message: Yuri ⌟

Yuri: good luck! [9:05]

You locked your phone, wait until I get my hands on you.

You shuffled your way in, the coach was nowhere in sight. Taking yourself a seat on the bench, you quietly waited and observed the boys. Yoongi kept his eyes on you from the moment the two of you made eye contact, watching from a safe distance — the opposite side of the court as you sat, hands neatly together on your lap. He couldn’t help contain the smirk forming on his lips, you looked confused.

“May I ask who you’re lookin’ for?”

His hair was blonde mixed with a shade of brown; a stunning colour, if you would-say-so yourself — harmonizing with the shone colour of his clear blue eyes and piercings on his ears. On top of that, he had flawless opaque skin, pinchable cheeks, and plump lips. He looked soft and elegant — an idol even.

He stood in front of you, wearing all black attire; black hoodie and black shorts. Nearly as tall as Yoongi you deemed. You’ve never noticed him before, a new recruit perhaps? Even so, he didn’t come off as the type to play basketball, but you knew better not to judge.

“I’m waiting for the coach. Do you know where he is?”

The male clasped his hands together and formed an ‘O’ shape with his mouth, “You just missed him! He left to take a call. I’m sure he’s in his office, want me to get him?”

“Oh no, no, no, no, I’m not in a rush! I can wait until he’s finished,” you assured him with a sincere smile.

“Suit yourself. May I?” He motioned beside you and you willingly scooted over to make room for the young boy. He took his invitation and sat pleasantly close to you, “I’m Jimin, and you?” He tilted forward, both elbows on his thighs as his head dipped a bit to gaze at you.

“I’m _____.”

“What a cute name for a cute girl,” he broke into an essence smile and you blushed, “You even have glasses, that’s a bonus,” shifting his posture, his head now resting on his hand. He’s definitely a flirt.

“What position do you play?”

“Hm?” He cocked a brow.

“I’ve never seen you before, are you new to the team?” You questioned.

“Actually,” he leaned back, “I’m their water boy,” he shyly spoke, stretching the hem of his black sleeves over and rubbed them together, formulating adorable sweater paws before hiding his shyness in his hands.

Explains why he wasn’t involving himself with the other members.

“I’d like to be on the team though,” he muffled — paws still covering his lower part of his face.

“Why aren’t you then?”

“Well, to be honest,” he combed his fingers through his hair and sheepishly smiled, “I didn’t make the cut…” You pouted, “It’s okay though! I like being their waterboy… It’s not that bad.”

Jimin averted his gaze to the court, “Sure, I’d rather be on the floor playing, but I also like my job. Even though, I only focus on keeping them hydrated and handing out towels,” he smiled.

“I really look up to these guys. Seeing them work as a team, picking each other up after a mistake and then, coming to me, telling me, that they appreciate what I do for them — they’ve made me feel as if I’m apart of them, part of the team. Especially Yoongi.”

You felt touched by Jimin’s words. You could see it, that he admired the boys. “Yoongi’s a great captain by the way. He may look tough, but he’s nothing but a teddy bear. You didn’t hear it from me though,” the both of you giggled.

You couldn’t imagine the way Jimin described him — maybe, just maybe, Min Yoongi wasn’t so bad after all.

80 notes · View notes

subasekabang · 6 years ago

Text

Joshua’s 6-Step Plan to Becoming a Vampire, Chapter 4

Author: Matt

Rating: T

Word Count: 7600; this chapter- 1666

Pairings/Characters: Josh/Neku, side Shiki/Eri; Joshua, Neku, Rhyme, Beat, Shiki, Eri

Warnings: Vampires, Blood

Summary: Joshua Decides to take over a coven cause he's bored. As you do.

Chapter 4

Immortal time God damn it

“Beat didn’t come home last night,” was the message Joshua awoke to the next morning. He squinted at the time displayed in the corner of the screen, then plopped it back on the bed beside his pillow, burying his face with the full intention of going back to sleep. Why would she send him that? He had an idea but was hoping it wasn’t correct.

Unfortunately his phone buzzed again a second later. He considered ignoring it, but that would not win him any points.

“Go look for him please.” Could he claim he had school? No, Rhyme knew he frequently skipped without any repercussions. One of the perks of having absent parents. They would just write you a sick note without a second thought.

“Alright….” Slamming his face into the pillow he groaned and enjoyed his last few seconds of warmth and comfort before he threw off the cocoon of blankets he slept under, and was greeted by a shock of cold air.

Where would Beat go? Was the first question he asked himself. He didn’t know the boy well, so it put him at a disadvantage. He liked bad music, skateboarding and ummmmm….. Maybe he should start at the skatepark.

He looked around the area. There were a few other people there. Kids, probably skipping like he was at that moment. It was surprisingly well kept as well. The kind of skatepark you got if the place it was in had the money for an actual skatepark and then continued to have that money to upkeep it, instead of letting it go to shit, then paving over it to make a shitty park only the local old people would want to use, and then complain about the amount of youth continuing to visit their old spot.

If Beat were alive he would hide. He would need to. Even though they could deal with a small amount of indirect sunlight, it wouldn’t be for long. The sun had already been beating down on this pavement for at least a few hours, meaning he would have needed to get out of it. There weren’t many trees around and they didn’t provide a very great amount of shade. So he moved on to playground equipment that was a few steps away.

He wasn’t there either. Not that this stuff provided enough shade anyway. There was no way he would have gotten stuck here. Joshua assumed he would have at least have tried to head home.

Maybe he was dead, er... More dead, or hiding in a bush somewhere.

Turning to head back and trace a possible route back to the house, he spied a small building. Some toilets; tucked away near the edge of the area. It was a simple brick structure with a tree beside it, which was doing an absolute shit job of hiding the building more than three times its size.

Approaching the building he stepped into the dimly lit bathroom. Stalls lined one wall of the poorly kept space, a long mirror stretched across the opposite side with counters and sinks below it. A single hand dryer sat near the entrance. The window was blocked up with what looked like a shirt, and just below it near the handicap stall he could see the edges of a sweater poking out.

“Hello?”

Someone moved, but didn’t say anything.

“Beat, is that you?”

“Yeah, what you want?” Well, this went faster than he expected. He may even be able to make it back in time for his afternoon classes. Or have a look for that fucking library. One of these things felt like a far better use of his time as far as he was concerned.

“Rhyme messaged me very early this morning, telling me to come look for you.” Which was all she had asked. He didn’t really need to do this part.

“What does she want?”

“I don’t know. She’s worried about you. Probably.” He did vanish and not come home. He supposed being worried about her brother being dead was most likely normal. In all honesty he was surprised that Beat had lasted as long as he did. Beat finally opened the door revealing what seemed to be a makeshift bedroom. Joshua frowned at that. He barely wanted to be walking on these floors let alone sleeping on them.

“Well she doesn’t have to worry, ‘cause I’m starting my own coven.” He seemed proud of himself for that. He was confident in his terrible choices, he had to at least give that to him.

“Why?” Joshua all but sighed.

“Cause I’m sick of it. No one takes me seriously.”

“Maybe ‘cause you run away to start covens in gross public bathrooms?”

“Whatever man. My coven is gonna be great one day.” Beat turned and sat back onto his very worn sleeping bag.

“So you’re gonna upgrade to… what? A shed? A slightly cleaner bathroom?”

“Fuck off.”

“Just go home. You’re sister is upset and, presumably, so is everyone else.”

“They aren’t.”

“Well, hopefully they wouldn’t have dragged me out of bed otherwise.”

Beat ignored him so he shrugged and left the bathroom, happy to be away from the stench.

“He started a coven in the skatepark bathroom,” He messaged Rhyme as he walked towards downtown. The library had to be somewhere around there right?

Once evening hit, he considered his options. He had given up his search fairly quickly, instead sitting at a small coffee shop and sipping not-coffee as he texted Neku. Neku was probably not awake yet but that wasn’t about to stop him. Besides, he would wake up if his phone went off enough times.

“What.” Nice. Joshua grinned.

“Hows my dear sweet Neku today?”

“Fine, ‘till you decided to wake me up.” To be fair, he had only sent like three messages. What, did he actually have his ringer turned on or something? Joshua had long forgotten what his ringtone, or any tone really, was on his phone as it had not been off vibrate since the day he got it.

“I just wanted to make sure you were sleeping well.<3” Grinning, Joshua took a bite of his cookie.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.” He was honestly surprised that Neku had given him his number. But in the past few weeks, they had been getting along slightly better than they had at the start. Not by much, but that wasn’t hard, as at the beginning it had been not at all.

“Thanks Joshua.” That was from Rhyme. He checked the time of the message, thinking he must have missed it, but no. It had been sent only a moment before, when his previous message to her had been over an hour ago. Huh.

That evening, after a day of window shopping instead of going to school, Joshua made his way to the now-familiar house, following the same path Neku had taken the first night they had met. The yard was getting overgrown, and the last thing he wanted to do was mow it again. Even if it was his job. He didn’t chores at home, why should he here? The flowers were getting weeds too. Sighing, he ignored the mess and continued inside.

“Josh, hey.” The entire group was seated in the living room, movies spilled out on the floor. Shiki waved at him from her spot beside the pile. Joshua hadn’t owned a physical copy of a movie in years. He had quickly switched to digital when the option became available.

“Oh everyone’s here tonight,” he stated, seeing Beat back in the corner playing a game of some sort. Rhyme must have been able to talk him into returning home after all. Either that or he was very good with people, which, from previous experience, wasn’t likely. Rhyme really did know how to deal with her brother. He was surprised she hadn’t been able to get him home herself.

“We were just talking about you.”

“Only good things I hope.”

“Of course,” Neku said sarcastically, and Joshua took the seat beside him on the couch. He didn’t say anything though, letting Joshua sit close to him. Not getting a reaction, Joshua slid closer. This time he did get a reaction. Neku gave him a slight smile, then looked back at the pile of movies Eri and Shiki were digging through. Confused and feeling his cheeks betray him, he stared down the TV stand, now embarrassed but also refusing to move because he had pride. Neku was not going to win this.

“Alright. Movie choices are these.” Eri held up two movies he could not see the titles of so he just pointed at one.

“The left one.”

“Your movie choices are as bad as your personality,” Neku said, getting a laugh from Eri.

“Neku don’t be mean, I like this movie.”

“Again, bad movie choices.”

Sadly for Neku, that argument ended with that movie getting every vote but his, meaning they watched it, and it was bad. Luckily it was bad in a funny way. Possibly on purpose, even though Joshua wasn’t quite sure about that. Still, it was a nice evening. Maybe this friend thing wasn’t so bad after all.

It was difficult though. As he sat here watching a movie amongst the group, feeling Neku’s arm behind snake its way around his shoulders, he realised he couldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t betray them after all. At some point he had managed to make friends despite his best efforts otherwise.

Scrapping the whole plan he ignored the arm, doing his best to not acknowledge it, and instead enjoy his night despite his plans going down the drain. Maybe just hanging out with them for the rest of a mortal life wouldn’t be so bad afterall.

#TWEWY #TWEWY Bang 2018 #The World Ends With You #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #World Ends With You

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dreamiebby · 7 years ago

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Lost in a Dream

Genre: Mystery, action, humour

Pairings: NCT Dream x Reader

AU!: Dystopian, Virtual Worlds

Warnings: swearing, harm/violence, mentions of disorders and mental health issues, identity crisis (if that counts as a warning) and probably agnst. You might suffer with dramatic irony sooner or later

A/n: This series is inspired by the Danganronpa Game Series, if you've played the game, you would understand the themes that are going on. Also, I picked Dream from their We Young era (ft. Jaemin from GO) - I liked their hair very much then.

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: A game that means the life or death of everyone sounds extreme. But it’s real alright. When you’re placed in it, not knowing that your’re actually trapped in this virtual world or about the consequences of each action made because your memories are stolen from you… Makes the situation more confusing.

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INTRO // Chapter 1

You were trapped in a world where talent ruled over society, the few people who had a talent, where called Ultimates. You were either born an Ultimate, or not. This is how the War began. The jealousy filed by the non-talented and the brutal nature of some Ultimates, ignited the most "Catastrophic War in Human History". And where did you fall into this? You had no Idea but you don't know your name and you have no clue about your identity. But, you did know you were in one shitty situation.

You awoke in a cold room. The walls, floor and ceiling all being made of metal. Which you assumed was iron since the metal on the floor was rusty... but didn't look that old from what you could see, they had very defined engravements embroidered into the metal, but it being dark, you couldn't quite see what it was. The small boxed room had a thick, musty smell, like it was previously stained with something foul and distasteful. It was also dark, there were no windows in this tiny room, the only light source was a tiny candle that flickered like it was going to give out and the light that shone through the gaps of the exit of the room.

But here you were, laying down on the floor. The strong smell of metal mixed with something foul was intoxicating. Making your head swirl in pain. You knew you needed to get out of here. You was about to call out when you heard several footsteps run towards your door from outside, you stayed quiet and still. "Yo, anyone in there!?" Called out one voice.

"Seriously Jeno? You idiot, just open the door. Every door we've opened, the person laying in there was passed out." Said a different voice. You sat up slowly, listening to these voices bickering and shuffling about and around your door. You guessed they were young boys, teenagers at least from what you could tell from their voices. You decided to call out, you were getting desperate to exit the room. "Please hurry! It stinks in here!" You yelled. The scuffling of their feet stopped.

"... Did you hear that? I think there's a girl in there" One voice whispered, but frankly it was loud enough for you to hear.

"This is the first time you've fucking spoke and that's the first thing you say, Jisung?"

"Haechan! Watch your profanity." Said another voice, before the door in front of you clicked, then creaked open. You shielded your eyes from the intense brightness and squinted your eyes. Your room must had been really dark. You blinked a couple of times till your eyes adjusted before seeing the seven boys staring at you in confusion. One of the boys held a hand out, presumably for you to take it.

"I'm not too sure about what's happening right now. But I know that you're the last person we're looking for and we've got to escape, now."

You hesitantly grabbed his hand, lifting you up to your feet. You dusted off the rust from the floor, that clung to your clothing.

"Where's the exit to this place?" You questioned, looking at the boy who helped you up. His features were soft and small, but his brown eyes were dark brown and beaming. His hair was black, that had an undercut with slightly short and choppy bangs that rested above his brows.

"Haha, you see... we don't know that yet. But some strange things have been happening since we've been trying to find people here..." his voice trailed off, "It's like we've been abandoned here-"

"Purposely!" said another boy. He was much shorter than the rest, he had bright lilac hair that fell just above his eyes. My eye's furrowed and the other six boys looked at him in confusion.

"How the hell could you tell that?" Another boy with bright retorted, almost offended by the remark.

"I just need a little more evidence before I can explain it to you guys." The purple haired boy answered, smiling to himself. They all turned away from him confused, before looking at the boy who offered his hand to you.

"I guess we should introduce ourselves?" He asked. Looking around if anyone was going to start first. "Well, I guess my name is Mark. The Ultimate team leader, the oldest here." He then motioned for the boy in blue hair to speak. He's hesitant before looking at you, then speaking.

"I'm Jisung, the Ultimate martial artist." And that's all he said before nudging the small purple haired boy next to him.

"Jisung is the youngest here, and I'm the second. I'm Chenle, I'm the Ultimate forensic and I hope we can be friends!" He beamed. Like he had a naturally bright and happy aura, compared to Jisung, who was more timid.

"You're so naive, Chenle. We should hurry and get this over with before something had happens. The name's Haechan, don't forget it yo." He said with such might, like his ego was through the roof. His red hair really did fit with his fiery expressions.

"Don't worry, I won't." You said starkly. "You didn't say what your ultimate was, what is it?" You questioned. He scoffed at your question. Like he was taking his time to find something to say.

"Ultimate assassin. Don't get on my nerves, okay? I've slaughtered many individuals who've pissed me off." He said with such confidence, but his face looked uncertain and contradictory. But you decided to ignore that before the next boy with light brown hair began to speak with such a welcoming voice.

"Lol hi, I'm Jaemin. Probably the most amazing person you'll meet out of everyone here. I'm also the Ultimate Gamer by the way." He turned to look at the boy next to him. Who seemed like he was in his own world. "Earth to Renjun, your turn." He said mockingly, shaking him a little.

"Oh, what?" was his response.

"Introduce yourself to her, man." Jaemin said, pointing at you. Renjun looked for a second, before answering.

"I'm Huang Renjun, the Ultimate Nurse... nice to meet you." He said, before turning away and looking at his surroundings again.

"What an actual fucktard, he said his last name too." Muttered Haechan, not realising that Renjun caught on to what he said.

"I was only being polite, you should try it sometime. Maybe then I won't treat you like dust." Renjun snapped, his ears going slightly red too. You we're certain that they haven't known each other for that long, but it seems like they already hate each other.

"Being polite is bullshit, it's like you want me to kill you in your sleep." Haechan snapped back, walking closer to Renjun. Things looked like they were going to heat up. Mark put his arm out, stopping Haechan from getting any closer to Renjun.

"We haven't got time for your bickering. So please, don't make this situation worse" Mark said controllingly. Trying to get an upper hand over the situation.

"Well, I didn't fucking start it." Spat Haechan.

"That doesn't matter. Can't we get through a simple task without you getting angry at something stupid?" He shut him up, Haechan rolled his eyes, before taking a step back and crossing his arms in annoyance. There was only one more boy to introduce himself, who's face was a bit red, like he was holding something in. Your eyebrows furrowed before questioning him.

"You okay?" You directed your question at the boy who's name you didn't know.

"Oh yeah, I need to stop laughing at these tense situations. Honestly, it's gonna get me killed." He blurted out, now laughing.

"Yah, Jeno, you can't be laughing in a tense atmosphere like this!" Said Jaemin.

"Oh well, my name is Jeno, and I'm the Ultimate inventor. Hope I don't need to say more." The white haired boy finished. Their attention was all on you, like they were waiting for you to speak.

"What's your name?" Chenle asked. You hesitated, remembering that you don't remember your name or talent.

"... I don't know." You replied.

"Do you remember your talent?" He asked once more.

"No... I don't. I don't remember anything." You responded. They all looked at you dumbfounded and shocked.

"You couldn't had forgotten... you're lying. I bet you just have a shitty talent... Like ultimate nurse or something dumb like that." Haechan laughed sheepishly. You couldn't believe it either, everyone else remembered their name and talent, but yet you didn't.

"It's okay if you don't remember. It may come back to you in a couple of hours or days." Mark reassured you, placing his hand on your shoulder. "But right now, we have bigger things to worry about. Like getting out of here. But we need to settle something first." He said the last part with a stern voice.

"Hmm?" You hinted him to continue.

"We need to call you something, we cant just call you 'She/Her/It' that's just rude." He stated.

"I think she looks like a y/n." Said Jaemin. Just at that moment they all narrowed their eyes, staring deeply at you. Kind of making you uncomfortable

"For once, Jaemin is correct." Mocked Jeno. "Y/n really fits."

"How about we call you Y/n?" Mark asked, looking at you.

"I'm fine with that." You replied. Mark then discussed that they need to find some type of exit, and you were split into three groups. Group 1 being: you, Chenle and Mark. Group 2 being: Jisung, Jeno and Renjun, leaving group 3 being Jaemin and Haechan. You all settled on searching different parts of the huge 'building' you were all trapped in. And you all settled off, your group was searching the area by the grand doors, that could possibly be the entrance.

"Guys, there's something I really want to check." Chenle blurted out, as if he was very eager. "There's something I'd like to clear up about this place." He then stated. "I want to visit the science lab." Mark nodded at his request, before leading the way to the science lab. You had so many questions on your mind. Some only you could answer. But you decided to push that to the back of your mind, focusing on the current situation. What Chenle wants to find out.

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A/N: Heheh, this is my first time writing on Tumblr, so I'm trying to understand the mechanics about making links and stuff. Currently there is no link to Chapter 1... as I haven't written it lol. I'm doing this from the top of my head, with a little bit of planning. I really hope this is enjoyed, and I continue to write. Thank you!

Date Published: 12/06/18

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