#also I was a minor so I’d get let off the hook a lot easier I can’t now :/

[ultrakillingmyself]

Tbh I wish I killed my dad I’d be like so much cooler if I actually did it I think

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (6)

Hey kid. I’d like to have a chat with you, if you’re up to it. Would you be free this afternoon?

Izuku idly reread the text and the brief exchange that followed as he whiled away the few minutes left before the agreed time for the meeting. 

Just a little over twenty-four hours before, Izuku had had a minor stroke at the mere thought of All Might texting him about a trip to the police station. Just a little over twenty-four hours before, he would have soared straight to cloud nine at the thought of All Might texting him ‘to have a chat’. It was a pity that the only emotion he could muster at the moment was a vague sense of stunned apathy.

“I’ll get that.” He informed no one in particular when the bell rang. The man installing what probably were legalized viruses on his laptop gave him an odd look, and his mother replied something indistinguishable from the bathroom. Izuku shuffled out of his room and unlocked the front door.

“Young Midoriya. Good afternoon.” All Might had reverted to his laid-back cargo pants and t-shirt attire. He seemed more tired and subdued as well, more like on the day Izuku had met him. 

“Good afternoon.” Izuku gestured at him to come inside, which he did with a quiet thanks. He did not remove his shoes though, and he stopped only few steps in upon spotting the second man fiddling with the landline in the living room.

“Ah. Busy day, is it?” All Might acknowledged the technician with a knowing nod. He then turned towards Izuku and tilted his head towards the front door. “Say, how about we take a walk? I bet your house feels crowded enough without me imposing as well.”

His mother’s head peeked into the hallway. All Might greeted her with a little wave and a weirdly embarrassed grin.

“I’m going for a walk.” Izuku announced as he slipped his shoes on.

“Uhm, are you sure?” Her eyes shifted between All Might and him with ill-concealed unease.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Izuku cut short. He wasn’t in the mood for another discussion. “See you later.”

He strode out of the building without hesitation. He made his way down the stairs, through the parking lot, all the way to the sidewalk before stopping. All Might caught up with him a minute later, after lingering on the threshold to exchange a few words with his mother that Izuku decided he did not care about. He also decided to ignore the pointed stare the hero aimed at him when he finally reached him.

“Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?” All Might asked after a beat, gazing up and down the small road.

“Not really. You?”

“Any place is fine by me. I need to get reacquainted with this city, its layout is quite different from how I remember it.”

Right, All Might had just moved in. And Musutafu had likely changed a lot since his U.A. days… That would have been a tremendously interesting topic for a chat, Izuku could feel the questions popping up in his head in droves, despite everything. Unfortunately, he was under no illusion that what All Might wanted from him could be that kind of casual conversation.

They picked a random direction and started walking. For almost five minutes, they strolled without breathing a word. It wasn’t nearly as awkward as it would have been under any normal circumstances.

“Had another rough night?” All Might said eventually.

“Mh.” Easy guess. The bags under Izuku’s eyes would soon rival the fixed shadows circling the hero’s if he didn’t manage to rein in his sleeping schedule soon. The nightmares had ceased, thankfully, but his head had been so full of disjointed and clashing thoughts and memories that he hadn’t managed to catch some shut eye until so late that it had become early. 

Nothing made sense. Everything made too much sense. In hindsight, it felt strange that Izuku had never contemplated the possibility himself. It also felt absurd that it could be true though, instead of some sort of huge misunderstanding. That his father could be-

“Oh, before I forget. The villain is faring much better.”

“Uh? What?” Izuku blinked.

“The sludge villain whose quirk you returned.” All Might graced him with a gentle smile. “I heard he was already mostly coherent by last night, and as of few hours ago he was firmly denying ever bearing any ‘serious’ ill intent towards you and your friend, demanding to see his lawyer and complaining about the quality of the lunch he was served.”

Guilt needled Izuku’s stomach upon realizing that the villain’s plight had completely escaped his mind since his return home from the police station. How poorly committed his sympathy was. “Oh. That’s… good, I guess?”

“We guess.” All Might chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve dealt with another incident that badly in years, but I’m glad that no one suffered any permanent damage, at least. And thank you again for bringing the matter to a close in my stead.”

“It’s hardly your fault if things went the way they did. But… yeah, I’m glad he’s okay and that it’s over.” Now if only that hadn’t sparked a much worse and much more scarring mishap, at least for Izuku… “Are you all right, by the way?”

“Me?” 

“Yeah. Have you managed to see a doctor yet? About, uh…” Izuku pointed at his own mouth, unsure how to describe the attack the man had suffered the day before, the likes of which Izuku had only seen in movies and cartoons, usually from people sporting deadly and gory upper body wounds. 

All Might laughed with inexplicable, genuine mirth. “Oh, don’t worry! I wasn’t playing it cool when I said I was fine. It’s just a thing that happens. Usually it isn’t quite as, uh, dramatic, but it really is nothing concerning.”

“But… you hadn’t even used your quirk…” Izuku could not fathom how spraying blood like a fountain on a presumably regular basis couldn’t warrant seeking any kind of medical attention, but the hero waved off his objection with finality.

“Trust me, it’s fine. More importantly...“ All Might wasn’t looking at him. He seemed deeply focused in memorizing as much as he could of his surroundings, peering here and there at street nameplates, buildings, alleys… manholes too, amusingly. But the low and soft quality of his tone made it clear that he wasn’t asking just out of politeness. “What about you, kid? How are you?”

Izuku dropped his gaze to his feet and shrugged. It was an accurate answer, actually. He’d spent so many hours torturing himself with doubts and grief and confusion that at some point his brain had sort of… ran out of energy to spare for emotions. He supposed it wasn’t the worst response he could have had. Stolid empty-headedness was largely preferable to the scorching waves of betrayal, impending doom and overbearing dismay he’d sampled the day before.

“I imagine how difficult all this must be for you.“ All Might went on, just as tactfully. “Have you talked with your mother?”

Oh, scratch that. He was still capable of feeling something. His mother was enough of a sore topic to make him clench his fists. “...Yeah. I have.”

“...I don’t think-”

“She knew.” Yeah, he was still angry. It bubbled in his chest like boiling tar, thick and sticky and suffocating.

“She told you that?” 

“I heard you three talking about it last night. I was listening from outside the living room.”

“What?!” All Might seemed genuinely shocked. It hadn’t been Izuku’s proudest moment, admittedly, but let’s be honest, what else was he supposed to do? Pretend that they weren’t discussing life-changing revelations just few meters away from his bed? He was only human. All Might slapped a large hand on his face and dragged it down alongside his pointy features with a groan. “Oh, come on…”

“She knew, and she never told me.” His nails were digging painfully in his palms and- oh great, now he was getting teary again. He’d held it together for the whole day and now he was going to lose it five minutes after All Might had showed up. For the third or fourth time in as many days. Sure, why not? It wasn’t like he’d managed to retain any sort of dignity since the very moment he’d met his idol. Why bother now? “S-She’s known since- since before marrying him- however that happened… I j-just...”

All Might regarded him silently for a moment. “...Things like these look very different from an outside perspective. Especially to someone as young as you are. It’s very easy to judge, and even easier to misjudge.”

“But she knew he was a criminal - one who would not even consider changing his ways for his family - and she… wanted him around anyway? Why would she do that?! It’s- I wouldn’t want an unrepentant villain still involved in illegal business around my son! He’d be... a bad influence, at the very least!”

“Before yesterday, have you ever thought that he could be having a bad influence on you?”

“Uh? No, I… I didn’t know that he was… I never… questioned...”

All Might sighed deeply. “Your father is a notoriously charismatic man. He’s always been particularly adept at coaxing people to his side without open coercion, but with simple, well-aimed words. You never suspected that he may have been acting in his own best interest while offering or withholding certain information from you, although it may seem obvious in hindsight. I bet he managed to instil the same trust in your mother, despite what she knew about him.”

“I…” Izuku rubbed away the tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He couldn’t understand. He just couldn’t. And it tore at him. “W-Was it because of the money? She never... I-I thought we were good, she n-never said anything… I-If I’d known, I would have… I wouldn’t have asked for… s-so many things, I-”

“I highly doubt that a few toys and games could have had that big of an impact on the family budget. There’s no reason for you to beat yourself up over anything.” All Might slipped his hands in his pockets, sympathy plain in his sunken eyes. “Your mother found herself in a very tricky situation, through no real fault of her own. She navigated it as best as she could, and I’m sure your well-being was her top priority. Seeing the healthy and upright young man you’ve grown into, I’d say she handled it admirably.”

“...I know.” Izuku knew it, really, he understood that. But… he’d always seen his mother as just about the most transparent, honest, sensible and sensitive person on Earth. And it turned out she didn't… exactly… meet that standard, however idealistic. It had been a blow, on top of everything else, one that had left him without a real, fully trustworthy figure when he most needed it. “I know that, but… she should have told me. At some point. There’s no excuse for not doing that.” 

“Perhaps. It’s hard to predict the negative impact that such a confession may have on a younger child, but perhaps she should have.” The hero conceded. “I’d refrain from handing down verdicts though. You kept some secrets of your own from her. You hid your quirk-”

“But that’s not the same thing! Not even close! A quirk isn’t as big an omission as your father being a criminal!” Izuku snapped, then immediately hunched his back in regret, his tone losing some volume but not its bitterness. “And, you know, maybe, maybe I wouldn’t have listened to him so readily if someone had warned me that he isn’t exactly an upstanding citizen!”

“Look, it isn’t my place to comment on how things stand or should stand between you and your mother, or how you should behave, but… if there’s one thing you need to keep in mind - and please do keep it in mind, at all times - is that the one person who bears absolute and doubtless blame is your father. That’s the source of all the lies that have been fed to you. Lies and deception are… what he does, really. What he’s always done. You and your mother are both victims in all this.”

Izuku sniffed and wiped some tears and snot on his sleeve. It was gross, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was a logic to All Might’s words, but no logic justified the staggering duplicity that had just turned his life upside down. The unfairness of it all was simply too much to accept. 

The boy looked up when All Might poked him on the shoulder to catch his attention.

“Speaking of which…” All Might swerved to the left, entering a smaller and more secluded lane leading away from the more trafficked routes. He had resumed his perusal of the area, and his expression had regained a firm, almost steely edge. Izuku followed him. “What I wanted to talk to you about concerns what transpired about your father, and how it will affect your life going forwards.”

No surprise there. The two plain-clothes agents that had shown up that morning, no doubt mourning the loss of their well-deserved Sunday rest, had been clear enough of a warning of some upheaval to the Midoriyas’ routine. All Might’s vague text had only cemented Izuku’s expectations of further disruptions.

“I hate being the bearer of bad news, but it is imperative for you to understand the gravity of your father’s position… especially to prevent him from enacting any sort of manipulation or control on you in the future.” The hero began. “The man you know as ‘Hisashi Midoriya’ goes under many aliases, so much so that we are still unaware of his real name. He has committed an astounding variety of serious crimes, over the course of decades. Even if your mother claims to be aware of his background, I assure you she doesn’t know the half of it.”

Izuku physically curled up under the weight of those words. It was… even worse than they thought? His father sounded more and more like some obscenely powerful yakuza boss or something, which was just… just...

“The police will be gathering and analyzing as much evidence as possible to find clues leading to his current location and activities. All possible forms of communications between you and him will be monitored. Your phones will be bugged, and any electronic devices you own will be fitted with tracking software. Your mail will be examined before delivery.” All Might paused, assessing Izuku’s lack of a reaction to his speech. “Did they tell you about this already?”

“S-Some of it, yeah.” Izuku’s gaze dropped to the asphalt again. The dried tears made the skin on his cheeks and around his eyes itch. “Will there be cameras too? Inside the house?”

“I haven’t heard about cameras. I don’t think so. Seeing as your father never set foot in your house, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to surveil it that closely from the inside. The outside will be watched, so we’d notice anyway if he tried to approach it.”

“...Okay.” 

“...I know it’s an oppressive situation. No one likes having their privacy invaded. But know that the professionals in charge of monitoring you are utterly uninterested in you specifically, or in whatever you do with your free time, as long as it isn’t anything outrageously illegal.” All Might’s voice softened again, although not enough for Izuku to dare raise his eyes from the ground. “I hear they are especially unconcerned about peculiar web searches and piracy perpetrated by bored adolescents, and some such things. Anything that isn’t strictly related to the case at hand won’t ever make it into any reports.”

“Mh.” A couple of small mercies were better than none, Izuku guessed. He really couldn’t muster neither enthusiasm nor gratitude for them at the moment though.

“Ah, about this… Those monthly phone calls your mother mentioned are particularly relevant for the police. They are likely their best bet in pinpointing your father’s position.” All Might paused. “For that reason, we would appreciate your cooperation on that front.”

Izuku’s brain suddenly jolted into activity, a myriad of spy movies and comics coming to his mind and offering plenty of distressing scenarios he could be potentially thrusted into. “You mean like… you want me to help you find him? Get him to drop hints about where he is, or- or asking him to go somewhere where you can set up a trap, or-” Izuku looked back up at the man, without bothering to conceal the pure terror that such prospects filled him with.

“What? No, of course not!” All Might exclaimed, surprised. “I mean, it isn’t out of discussion that we may try to actively lure him out at some point, but that would take extensive preparations and precautions on our part. We’d need to gather more intel and agents, recruit other heroes first… We definitely aren’t considering taking any such steps yet.”

“O-Oh… okay…” He let out the tiniest sigh of relief. No wild capers… for now...

“Besides, even if we were, we wouldn’t use a child as bait! Your mother would be much more suited to assist us. Any request from her would have more sway on your father, and she would handle the pressure much better.”

“So… what do you want me to do then?”

All Might shrugged. “Just keep up appearances. Continue having your monthly calls with him as if nothing happened, so as not to alert him that something might be wrong.”

That wasn’t that big of a demand, objectively speaking, but... it didn’t seem feasible either. Izuku’s grasp on his own emotions was tenuous at best at the moment, and his father had always been exceptionally perceptive to his state. He really didn’t think he could endure up to two hours of small talk about heroes, quirks, school and assorted pleasantries without having some sort of breakdown halfway through. Izuku gulped, bracing himself for the inevitable scolding of his cowardice. 

“...I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure if I can do that.”

Surprisingly, All Might wasn’t put off in the slightest. “In that case, you could ask your mother to pretend you got hurt in some way that prevents you from speaking. Bad tooth, removed tonsils, broken jaw, you name it. That would earn you at least another month of silence and… hopefully the investigation will make some progress in that time, or you’ll grow used enough to the situation to face him with a cool head.”

That was a reasonable approach to the issue. It was a relief to know that someone else was putting some thinking into all this in Izuku’s place, now that his already flimsy decisional autonomy had stumbled into the metaphorical equivalent of a bear trap. “...I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” All Might nodded, strangely unperturbed by Izuku's less than proactive attitude. “Other than what I’ve mentioned, you will also be followed wherever you go whenever you aren’t at home or at school-”

“W-What?” Izuku instinctively glanced around, envisioning slow-moving cars or shady individuals with sunglasses and holed newspapers observing him from bushes.

The corners of All Might’s mouth twitched upwards. “You will not be aware of it, nor will anyone else, of course. It will have no actual impact on your daily life, like all the other measures we’ve already covered.”

“But why?” Izuku griped, his heart sinking so deep that it would soon pierce through the Earth’s mantle. “My father isn’t going to suddenly drop by to say hello, you just said so yourself!”

“It’s for your own protection too.” All traces of humor vanished instantly from the hero’s demeanor. “Your father is no stranger to violence. In the past, he has resorted to brutal and immoral means to dispose of his enemies, and... I’m sorry to say that he would not hesitate to employ such methods against his own family, if he deemed it a danger to his own safety.”

Izuku couldn’t hold back a little hysterical chuckle that sounded pitiful to his own ears. “That… sounds a bit exaggerated, doesn’t it? I-I get that he’s a bad guy, but… I really don’t think he’d do something like that to us. H-He’s never even raised his voice with me, never...”

“Midoriya. I beg you to believe me when I say that you can’t trust anything of what you think you know about your father.” All Might stopped to glare intently at a narrow, dingy alley littered with trash bags. “He is dangerous. Extraordinarily so. Tsukauchi is pushing for having further safety measures enforced for your family, and until those have been granted, please be very aware of your surroundings at all times. Refrain from taking unfamiliar routes, and stick to crowded areas whenever you can. I don’t want to scare you, but even having eyes on you at all times is no guarantee of a timely intervention, under unfavorable circumstances.”

“Is it… really that bad?” Izuku breathed, gutted by the unexpected harshness of the picture painted by All Might’s words. It was… inconceivable, still. His father, deliberately hurting him? His father, whose cutting sarcasm was just about the only vaguely hurtful trait Izuku had ever witnessed? His father, a hardened, soulless criminal averse to puns and All Might trivia, and yet always so willing to let Izuku torture him with both? His father, ambushing him from dark corners? “Is he really that bad?”

“Yes.”

“What did he…” Izuku started asking, only to trail off. It was a pointless question, with a clear answer. It had been buzzing in his head for the whole night, blindingly obvious by now. “...He steals quirks, doesn't he? That’s what he does. He... maims people for…”

“I’m afraid he isn’t nearly as conscientious as you in regards to-” All Might cut himself off with a visible flinch. “Wait, he told you about his quirk? You know it’s the same as yours?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You didn’t mention that to us.” Bright pinpricks of blue were suddenly trained on Izuku with piercing intensity. It kept catching him off guard, how both of the Symbol of Peace’s towering forms could switch from amicable to intimidating at the drop of a dime.

“I-I thought… He said it was a secret- one of his confidential matters. I’ve always thought he was some sort of… prison guard or undercover agent…” God, how unbelievably stupid it all sounded now. Izuku had never felt more childish. 

“...That goes to show…” All Might mumbled, barely audibly. It unsettled Izuku. It went to show what? His father’s cunning? Izuku’s naivety? Or… surely not that he could be hiding something on purpose...

“I-I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I had no idea how- how serious- I’d never-”

“Mh?” The hero blinked at him, as if emerging from a private musing. “Ah, I mean… There could be some merit to the other thing I wanted to ask of you.”

Izuku just waited, barely able to withstand the acuity of the hero’s gaze without shrinking. After a few tense moments, All Might let out a sigh and resumed walking, his eyes wandering back to the street ahead.

“To be frank… Personally, I don’t think we’re going to achieve much from all these investigations.” He grimaced, as if regretting those words as soon as they left his mouth. “Not for lack of trying, mind you. Tsukauchi is an immensely capable and dedicated officer, he’ll pursue each lead as thoroughly as humanly possible, but… Your father knows how to cover his tracks. Phone calls, payments, mail, blatant cues like those have never brought us close to him in the past, not once. To his associates, yes, to his… ‘aftermaths’, yes. But never to him personally. His circumstances were always shrouded in impenetrable security. I doubt this case will be any different.”

Buildings gave way to the open horizon. They had reached the end of the street, which merged into a largest road running along the coast. They crossed it, and kept going on the opposite sidewalk, looking down on a thin stretch of sand separating them from the sea.

“That said… he did leave one huge trail for us to find this time. A whole family, out in the open.” All Might’s eyes returned to the boy pensively. “A breakthrough like this, if you’ll pass me the term, is unprecedented. The most obvious leads could turn out to be dead ends, but maybe there is something to be found in the smaller things.”

“The smaller things?”

The man gestured vaguely. “He’s been talking to you, has he not? To you and your mother both, for over a decade. Not that often, but… hell, he even told you about his quirk, and one would expect him to be very tight-lipped about that. There might be more to dig up. Details he may have deemed unimportant, or accidentally let slip. Hints. Small things.”

Izuku was finally catching the drift. “I’m really sorry, but… I know you probably can’t take my word for it, but I really don’t know anything about what he does, or ever did. He never let anything slip about his… his ‘job’...”

“Of course not, that’s not what I’m referring to. The thing is…” The hero clucked his tongue in frustration. “We know so little about the man himself as well. His identity, his background, his history… We know next to nothing about him, and what little we do know, we were only able to discover through very unconventional means. If there’s a chance to glean one more shred of information hidden among the fabrications, I think it’s worth pursuing it.”

“So the police are going to question us about… fourteen years’ worth of chit-chats?” That seemed like a disproportionate endeavor for something as volatile as the possibility of parsing an ounce of truth. Exactly how desperate were they to catch this increasingly perplexing father of his?

“That’s the gist of it, yes. And ideally, we would like to interview you separately, to avoid that either of you could, ehr… inadvertently censor yourselves about information not known by the other-”

“Like my quirk. Or dad’s ‘activities’.“ Izuku muttered.

“...Yes. Things like those.” All Might paused, then cleared his throat. “Well… given the delicate nature of the case, we are trying to keep the workforce to a minimum, and involve as few people as possible. This ought to speed up coordination and briefing, as well reduce the risk of information leaks. Tsukauchi will be personally questioning your mother… as well as direct the entire operation. He’s quite the multitasker. And, well… since technically I’m already involved and up to speed and I won’t be contributing to the proper detective work in any capacity… we thought I might take care of hearing your side of the story.”

A little Oh was the whole extent of Izuku’s reaction as the hero’s words washed over him. All Might seemed a little discouraged by that.

“We figured it might put you a little more at ease… Talking with someone you’re already familiar with, instead of a brand new face. And, ehr… well, you mentioned being a fan, so…” He elaborated, his hands drawing half-formed shapes in the air to underline his words. He looked… almost nervous? “It’s just a possibility, of course. If you’d rather be entrusted to a proper member of the force, it’s well within your rights to request that.”

Izuku did not miss the underlying meaning of that winding speech. It was within his rights to request who he wanted to be interviewed by, not if. 

“Do I even have a choice?” All Might’s guilty grimace was all the reply Izuku needed. “...No, sorry, I… That’s a stupid question. I’ve no reason to refuse either.” Surely not the faint sense of betrayal knocking on his conscience at that very moment. Could he even feel bad about betraying someone who’d never been honest with him in the first place? 

“...I know it’s far from an enticing perspective.” All Might rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “It’s going to eat up a lot of your time, and people are never exactly eager to ‘snitch’ on relatives, even when they’re criminals. But I really think it could be of great help to us.”

So that was the role Izuku was going to have in this whole mess, that of a very oddly-shaped piece in a very complicated puzzle. It could be worse, he supposed. Being stuck in a room talking with the number one hero for hours could hardly be considered a real punishment. Were the topic of the conversation literally anything else, it’d be a dream coming true, even. He should push that angle on himself, Izuku pondered. Maybe he could talk himself into enjoying the whole thing, in some way. 

“Since I’m no policeman, I’m amenable to reward you for the time and effort you’ll generously dedicate to the task with suitable bribing. I was thinking snacks, if that doesn’t come off as too cheap.” All Might continued with a tentative grin, although his attempt at levity didn’t stick the landing. “No? How about, ehr… All Might merch?” For some reason, his face scrunched up as if the suggestion physically pained him.

Izuku sighed. There was no point in fighting the inevitable, was there? “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“...Thank you, that is very good to hear.” All Might smiled with evident relief. He patted Izuku’s shoulder encouragingly. “I’ll say, you’re taking all this a lot better than I was expecting. For all the crying, you have quite the resilient attitude. Heroic, even!”

Izuku let out a half-choked sob. Oh. Oh, wow, that realization hurt. He hadn’t thought about that since… had it really only been a couple of days since making it into U.A. had been his biggest concern in life? And now…

“Ehr… Sorry, did I say something wrong?” All Might asked when faced with the new bout of tears streaming down the boy’s cheeks. Izuku shook his head.

“S-Sorry, it’s just… I-I guess that’s the closest I’ll ever get to becoming a hero now, uh?”

“What?”

“There’s no way they’ll let me anywhere near a hero course now, is there? My father told me it was basically impossible before, and now...”

“Your father told you that you couldn’t be a hero? Your father who is a villain?” All Might gave him a pointed look. “You may want to start reevaluating some of the nuggets of wisdom he’s been imparting on you in light of the new revelations, kid.”

“But he’s right, isn’t he?” Izuku griped. “It’s even worse now that he turned out to be a villain! A bad one too! Abusing the same overpowered quirk I have, it’s just… too great a bias, isn’t it?”

All Might seemed caught off guard, then he frowned and looked away without replying. There it was, the naked truth. Not even an attempt at a rebuttal. Out of discussion. Izuku’s dreams scattered to the wind, without hope of salvation.

“Y-You know, I actually thought… I could work my way around it.” Izuku continued among the sniffles, dropping his gaze to the ground. “I thought I could just pretend to be quirkless. F-For a while. Pass the test like that, make some friends, get… get trusted as a hero because of my work. A-and then, then one day, just… after everyone trusted me, I thought I could come out clean. And start using my quirk for good. I thought it could work. Get others to know me before my quirk. B-But it’s never going to happen now. The police know, the school will know.”

“...I must say that building your budding hero career on a lie isn’t the most solid plan I’ve ever heard.” There was no accusation in All Might’s tone, but his words still cut deep.

“I know…” Izuku bit his lip. He’d known, but what alternatives did he have?

“But I guess we can’t all carelessly parade our true selves before public scrutiny, can we?” The man sighed, scratching his own head. “You are right about one thing though. Actions do speak louder than words. You might not be able to talk your way out of your… delicate circumstances, but factual demonstrations of good intentions can go a long way.”

“That’s… That’s all I’m asking for!” Izuku’s head snapped up, desperately latching onto that single lifeline. “I would do whatever it takes to be allowed to try!”

“Well, I’d say you’re already on the right path then. Cooperating with the police is definitely a good step to establish good faith.” All Might flashed him a sheepish smile. ”...I’m not saying that just to grind my own axe, I swear.”

“Do you think it would be enough for U.A. to let me attempt the test?”

“You want to apply to U.A?” The hero seemed strangely surprised.

“Yeah. Is it… not a good idea?”

All Might took a few moments to reply. “...It might work in your favor, actually. U.A. is famous for the degree of self-determination afforded to its management by the government. If you’re worried about external interference, U.A. is your best bet to avoid it.”

A tiny, shy flicker of hope ignited in Izuku’s chest.  

“...I’ve known the principal of U.A High School for a long time. He’s a bit of an eccentric, but one with an impeccable work ethic.” All Might resumed after a moment. “He’s not the kind of person to let unfair judgement undermine his institute. Especially if it prevented an aspiring hero he deems worthy from being appointed his student.”

“You mean that…?”

“I mean that if you do plan to apply to U.A. you could have a chance of making it in, regardless of your unfavorable background. If you pass the admission test, that is.” All Might suddenly stopped walking. “...What is this?”

Izuku blinked, ripped out of his thoughts, and took in the portion of the seafront they had reached. Wow, he really hadn’t been paying any attention to where they were going, had he? “...Oh. It’s, ehr… an illegal dumping site, I guess.”

“Really?” All Might commented, eyeing the sad, disregarded No Dumping sign welcoming its disobedient visitors.

“Yeah. The currents always bring flotsam to this area, so it was never clean in the first place. And then people started taking advantage of it…”

“And no one ever comes here to pick up any of this?” Strangely, the sight and the slight stench of mounds of rusting metal and assorted junk didn’t bother All Might, who climbed down the few steps separating the sidewalk from the beach.

“No, the city administration never took an interest. Everyone else just avoids this spot altogether. It’s been getting worse over the years.” Izuku had no idea why All Might was studying the piles of dismissed appliances as if they might hold some hidden treasures within, but he felt rather dumb for accidentally introducing this to the hero, of all places in Musutafu, as his first sightseeing landmark. “Sorry, I should have brought us somewhere else.”

“It’s fine.” Undaunted, All Might wandered deeply into the maze of refuse, with Izuku ruefully tagging along. “A safe, handy spot where a passing criminal in a hurry could stash some loot, don’t you think? Good to know.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” Right. That was what it meant for a hero to know his turf, right? It went beyond street names and layouts. It meant to be aware of how each location could lend itself to certain criminal activities, what places could make for good improvised hideouts, where civilians were more or less likely to be gathered...

“How were you planning on passing the admission test?” All Might asked when they reached the water’s edge, eyes fixed on the waves crashing on the sand.

“Uhm. Well, I’ve already started reviewing the subjects listed in the syllabus…”

“I was referring to the practical session, actually.”

“Oh, uhm… Well, I tried looking for information about it online, but there doesn’t seem to be any. Apparently it’s U.A.’s policy to bind all participants to non-disclosure. They say that observing how potential candidates react to unexpected situations is part of the evaluation process, so…”

All Might looked at Izuku, his expression blank. “Yes. So?”

“Ehr.” Suddenly Izuku felt extremely on the spot. “W-Well, without knowing what I’m getting into, I don’t really have any specific strategies in mind.”

All Might cocked his head with a slight frown. “What about generic strategies? What skills were you going to capitalize on?”

“I… Well… I thought I’d just… try my best. Improvise and use my head.”

All Might blinked. “...That is what everyone else is going to do too. Except everyone else will also have a quirk to rely on, while you weren’t going to use yours. That’s a massive disadvantage right there.”

“Yes, I know.” Izuku clasped his hand behind his back in shame. That was an excellent point, one that somehow no one had ever raised with him. Everyone, including his father, instantly shot down his idea as soon it left his mouth. No one had ever asked him to elaborate on the practical details. Which he had sort of… failed to sort out so far.

“And you have no notion as to how to bridge that gap.”

“Not… not yet.”

All Might crossed his arms, sporting possibly the harshest expression Izuku had seen on him yet. It made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. “...Are you serious about this hero thing? Are you sure it isn’t just a passing fancy?”

“It isn’t! It absolutely isn’t!” Izuku answered immediately. “I just… I don’t even know if I’m allowed to bring any tools, or-”

“Tools?” All Might scoffed as he walked back to him and gave him a critical once-over. “Looks to me you already have all the tools you need, if you deigned to consider them.”

“Uh?”

“You have arms, don’t you? Hands. Legs. Arguably a head.” All Might poked at each listed limb with a bony finger as he started circling him like a starved shark. “All in working order, yes?”

“Y-Yes- I mean, I’m not ill or anything, but-”

“Then why aren’t you trying to capitalize on those? A quirk is an important part of a person, but it’s not the only one! You have a body, use it!”

“Ah, yes, I…” Izuku gulped. “It would make sense to, uh, try to get a little stronger, I guess…”

“You guess? ” All Might was reaching yet unexplored levels of visible exasperation, which was saying something considering the whole secret-villainous-father debacle. Izuku didn’t know if getting the number one hero so worked up about his little pipe dream should be considered flattering or shameful. “Being a hero isn’t a desk job! Running fast, lifting heavy weights, enduring fatigue are not optional skills! No matter what quirk they have, no hero worth their salt can neglect to keep in excellent shape!”

“R-Right. Of course. It’s just that, uh…” Izuku fidgeted. “I’m not really good at that sort of… physical stuff. I’ve always been a bit on the scrawny side, and I get tired easily, and I’m no good at brawling-”

“Despite training?”

“...I’ve never followed a proper training regimen, but…”

All Might rubbed his hands on his face. “Kid, unless they have a physical-enhancing quirk, people aren’t just born strong. They get strong by training - do I really have this state this out loud?”

Izuku was fairly sure his face was about to spontaneously combust. Of all the things he’d expected to happen in his near future, being scolded by All Might in person for his lack of commitment to physical activity was not one of them. “Y-You are right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to disrespect you or your profession…”

“You didn’t, I was just… You seemed passionate about this two days ago...” All Might trailed off. “My point is that all the equity in the world won’t net you a place in U.A. if you don’t pass that test. And if you really are serious about raising your chances of becoming a hero, you have to give this some serious thought, and soon. You can cram months of study into weeks if you have the brains for it, but you cannot do the same with workouts.”

Izuku willed himself to hold his head up straighter. “I-I will. Thank you for your advice, it makes a lot of sense.”

The silence that descended between them was more than a little awkward.

“I’ve pestered you enough for today, haven’t I?” All Might eventually said as he took off towards the sidewalk. “Let’s go back.”

Izuku trailed behind the hero as they made their way among the waste, and almost bumped on him when he slowed to a stop to stare at a particularly high pile of contorted, rusty scraps.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just thinking that… What I need is a quiet, lonely place to have some private chats with you, and what you need is a way to work up some muscle and rack up some good karma, right?” All Might scratched his chin as he scanned the heaps of trash hiding the rest of the city from view. “...Say, how do you feel about community service?”

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 22 of 26

Title: Stories of the Raksura, Volume One (2014)

Author: Martha Wells

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Adventure, Short Story Collection, Third-Person, LGBT Protagonist, Female Protagonist

Rating: 7/10 (note: this is an average)

Date Began: 8/23/2021

Date Finished: 8/28/2021

Stories of the Raksura, Volume One is the first of two anthologies that take place in Martha Wells’ Books of the Raksura universe. I recommend reading the original trilogy (starting with The Cloud Roads) before these, as the stories are pretty confusing otherwise. If “fantasy adventure starring shapeshifting, winged humanoids” sounds like an entertaining premise to you, you’re in luck! To those interested, I reviewed the main series last year— here’s a link to the first book.

Of the two novellas and two short stories in this volume, my favorites were “The Falling World” and “Adaptation”, both 8/10s.

Individual ratings, content warnings, and minor series spoilers below the cut. 

Content warnings for the book: non-graphic sexual content, violence, brief mention of r*pe, brief mention of suicide, references to domestic abuse, traumatic injury, bullying, mild body horror.

#1 - The Falling World (8/10)

While on a routine diplomatic mission to a nearby court, Jade, Chime, and a contingent of warriors disappear under mysterious circumstances. Left in a precarious position in the Reach, Moon leads a search party for the missing group. The trail leads to a mysterious, ancient ruin hidden in the depths of a mountain thorn… but bizarre dangers lurk within. Finding the missing Raksura will be easier said than done.

Moon paced absently around while the others explored or drank from the pond. They were here, he thought, days ago. Just days. But standing here had the same feeling he got in ancient groundling ruins: that an unbridgeable gulf of time separated him from the people who were once here.

“The Falling World” is a typical Raksura story which takes place between the third and fourth books. If you read the original trilogy and liked it, you’ll like this one. It’s got all the pieces you’ve come to expect: creepy sorta-haunted ancient ruins, vaguely eldritch monster things, fantasy adventure, and Moon being a snarky angst machine. I wouldn’t call this novella required reading. Beyond a mention in book four, the introduction of Ocean Winter (who I don’t really remember), and a tiny bit of lore re: Chime’s weird powers, there’s nothing new here. It’s the kind of thing you read if you liked the novels and want more adventures— and that’s fine.

#2 - The Tale of Indigo and Cloud (6/10)

Umber Shadow is a minor court in the Reaches, but things are about to change. Its sister queen Indigo just “stole” Cloud, a consort from Emerald Twilight. Such behavior is one of the most taboo acts in Raksuran culture. Now Cerise, the leader of Umber Shadow, has to navigate the dire socio-political consequences of Indigo’s actions, and hopefully prevent an all-out war.

Ruby didn’t look happy, but she didn’t argue either. “All right. Just be careful. Don’t let this little idiot trap you into fighting.” “Which little idiot?” Cerise asked, in exasperation. “There are so many of them!”

I have mixed feelings on “The Tale of Indigo and Cloud”. It’s an obvious choice for a novella, as the main books reference this story. Clearly, the titular characters are the namesakes for Indigo Cloud, the court in the main series. The plot is less action-adventure and more political intrigue— which is fine, and a welcome change of pace. 

My main issue is perspective; rather than Indigo or Cloud (or both), the story instead follows Cerise, leader of Umber Shadow (Indigo Cloud’s predecessor). Cerise is well-written enough, and it’s interesting to get a reigning queen’s POV. But this choice creates a layer of disconnect from the emotional tension of the story—Indigo and Cloud’s rocky relationship. The novella comes off as a chronicle of events rather than an involved story. Personally I’d find the tale more interesting if it started with Indigo and Cloud’s meeting and took their POVs. Clearly Cloud was unhappy in his old life and convinced Indigo to help him; that’s an interesting hook that I wish we saw firsthand. That aside, I appreciated baby!Stone’s cameo and the melancholy epilogue related to that.

#3 - The Forest Boy (7/10)

Tren is an orphan living in a small Mirani village nestled along a trade route. While digging through a local junk heap, he and his friend Lua discover Moon, an injured boy caught in an animal trap. Tren’s adoptive parents nurse the strange child back to health. Moon and Lua become close friends, and Tren grows to resent the newcomer. But when a creature from the forest attacks the three children, Tren learns that Moon’s hiding a deadly secret.

He wasn’t a fool; he knew it was jealousy, like the jealous herder in one of Ari’s stories who lost his herd by trying to make it bigger than those his neighbors owned… Moon was big, strong, helpful, good to everyone, and everyone in the house liked him. He also had the added mystery of being a wild boy from the Long Road, without any of the dirty or violent habits a real wild boy might have.

But knowing it was jealousy didn’t seem to help Tren make it go away. It just made it worse, since now he could feel guilty about being jealous.

I liked this one! “The Forest Boy” introduces some early characterization for Moon; in particular, it adds context to Moon’s natural suspicion of others. Poor boy just wants a family— but he’ll always be at a remove from others since he has to hide his identity. No wonder he constantly doubts his place among the Raksura once he finally meets them. Here he finds a potential place to belong, but it comes crashing down just for being himself. It’s especially yikes knowing that this keeps happening well into adulthood. I felt kind of meh about Tren as a character, but hey, it’s a short story.

#4 - Adaptation (8/10)

Chime has been an Arbora for his entire life; the wingless caste of Raksura who keep the court running. But one day, when shapeshifting into his Arbora form, Chime blacks out. When he awakens, he finds his body has transformed into a winged Aeriat. Now with his entire identity called into question, Chime becomes an outsider among both Raksuran castes. But perhaps more troubling is what this shift means for the future of Indigo Cloud.

Someone must have carried him out of the central well; they were in one of the smaller side rooms, the one with a fountain pool fed by a channel in the wall. Chime stumbled to the pool and almost swayed over backwards. Catching himself on the rim, he stared down at his reflection.

He was looking at a Raksuran warrior, tall, lean, with blue scales. Horrified and fascinated, he raised his spines to see if they were longer, and something else extended out behind him. It took him a moment to realize he was looking at the edges of his wings as they unfolded from his back.

We love Chime in this household, so I’m happy to see a short story from his POV. Like “The Tale of Indigo and Cloud”, this was an obvious choice to write, since there’s a lot of discussion in the main books about it. Chime’s horror upon waking in a strange new body, the resulting social isolation, and his first steps toward accepting his situation, are all very compelling subjects. It’s no wonder the poor guy latched onto Moon right away. I think “Adaptation” is too short for its heavy and complex subject matter. Something like this could easily be a novella. But I did like it for what it is. 

Closing Thoughts

This anthology was fine! I basically wanted a little more Raksura content, and this certainly delivered. Short story/novella collections are always going to be hit or miss with me, so I consider 7/10 a pretty good average score. As I mentioned above, only read this if you’ve read the main series, or you’ll be lost.

[darkunlimited]

Tales of Arise Review

So, it’s not a bad game… but it’s not a great game either.

I had to think long and hard on how to write out my grievances with this particular title in the ‘Tales Of’ series (I’m starting to think I haven’t throughly enjoyed a title since Xillia 2, although I did like Berseria quite a bit). I’ve decided a list format was the most efficient.

Things I liked:

The world, characters, combos, and mystic artes are all very good looking (personal aesthetics aside)

Camping skits (These were nice because early on it was one of the only ways to have characters sit down and connect with each other.)

Hootle

Things I didn’t like but didn’t ‘hate’:

The absolute insistence on coupling all the characters. I didn’t like the lack of subtlety and it felt a bit shoehorned in as well. Yes, there are three heteronormative couples in a world where almost everyone is a slave and could die at any moment based on the whims of their evil overlords. Oh, look, an attractive Renan. (This kind of fits in with my rant about narrative later, mainly in how it feels shoved down the player's throat despite the fact that earlier titles have not needed to do this. )

Shionne goes from Tsun to Waifu before the second act, heavily lampshaded from the beginning, but gets blatant, by the end when you obtain wedding dress armor in the final dungeon and a bouquet gun you obtain in a subquest. Like, we get it, the two mains are going to hook up, it was kind of obvious with that whole no pain/causes pain dynamic they started off with. I honestly missed her Tsun tendencies, it helped balance out Alphen's 'good guy' personality.

Alphen’s mask coming off. Actually, I did kind of hate this, because he went from having a unique look to becoming a white-haired bishonen protag with no eyebrows (they are stupid light eyebrows that are too thin and hard to see). He looked awkward and I just wish they let me have the option of putting the mask on for aesthetic purposes, but no, once it's gone, it’s gone. Upon playing New Game + I've learned that other than in cut scenes, the helmet will stay off and it wrecks game immersion.

Things that made me go “Why?”:

The narrative. The constant repetition of what needs to be done and 'why we must continue our fight' became very old, very fast. It was somewhat tolerable in the first half of the game because there were still “mysteries” to resolve, but it became completely unbearable in the second. (Why yes, I do understand the motivations of the main cast, can I move on from your twenty-minute cut-scene explanation followed by multiple character skits and other added cut scenes five minutes later that reiterate the exact. same. information? No? Well, fuck you game.)

The compilation of the game. There were many issues here. In addition to the narrative shoving the ‘plot’ into the latter half of the game and beating me with repetition, there were the following problems:

Many character stories and fun skits/side quests suffered from the game’s arrangement. Many were relegated to the latter half of the game which did not make sense. A good portion of these could have easily been added to the first half (maybe to be completed in the second with some characters) and would have offered some levity during the story (Law’s backstory regarding his part in his father’s death really needed this, possibly more than anyone else.).

Additionally, the levels of the enemy seemed far higher than they had any reason to be for character quests to be completed. (I ended up doing all of this after I had opened up the final dungeon and the fact that these were the starts of character quests is what really ticked me off.)

The characters. I realize this may not be a popular opinion, but my issue with the characters had more to do with the game’s uneven portrayal of their character stories than the characters themselves. This was an issue in Zesteria as well (I did not like Rose because she became a BAMF! way too fast and took over Mikleo’s role as the deuteragonist midway through.) In Arise, this happens with Dohalim, particularly in the second half. There were points where I outright wondered if they were switching protagonists because his character arc tied so closely into the plot. Mind you, he is a likable character, but I should never forget who my main characters are. Alphen and Shionne became so poorly characterized within their tropes that I legitimately had moments I forgot they existed.

Lip Sync during skits. I think this could have been resolved easily if mouths either didn’t move at all during skits or if they had bothered to lip-sync to both English and Japanese VA’s. This also became problematic during camping but slightly easier to ignore.

Directional attack controls. I liked having the option of which way to swing my main weapon from the past games. This may seem a minor thing but it really threw me off when dealing with flying enemies.

Things I wish I could have seen (Fanfic ideas, maybe?):

Total ‘what if’ scenario, but it would have been interesting to see Rinwell used as a tool to fight off Renan’s before she joins the party. They do dive lightly into the possibilities of Dahnan oppressors and this would have been a good way to introduce that idea early on. Especially if there was a domain Renan’s could not take over.

Another thought is having Renan’s = old-timey Dahnan mages. If they were being hunted centuries ago, it would make a lot of sense to have them willingly go with the Helganquil to later get revenge on the Dahnan populace. Even if these mages/turned Renan’s forgot the why’s, learning that info from the Helganquil would have made for an interesting way to have Rinwell face her racism. It’s all but alluded to in the game, however, it seems some engineering on behalf of the Helganquil was involved in canon.

Law having more remorse over the part he played in his father’s death. Really felt like he shrugged it off too quickly. I think I would have liked a larger backlash to occur because of his actions.

Alphen’s backstory and memory being triggered over time instead of in one very long and kind of disappointing go. It would have been more compelling to see him flashback and question his own motives earlier on.

Making him Renan with the mask suppressing his glowy-eyes also would have been interesting since he would side w/the Dahnan’s after his experiences as a slave.

Shionne either sticking to being a Tsun (zapping people on purpose more), or confessing her motivations and her fears much earlier. It was really dragged out. Hated it. Also, she became very boring in the second half.

An optional unhappy ending. Honestly, everything was too nicely wrapped up. It felt unreal.

Anyways, that’s it, that’s the list. I think if I wasn’t a Tales Of veteran I may have enjoyed this game more (although the way they beat me over with the narrative still would have killed a good 70% of the enjoyment for me). I didn’t outright hate the game as it’s fun to play, but if I’d known more about how pedantic the narrative would become, I probably would have waited instead of buying on day one.

[akw-aka-awkward]

TW: Mentions of Self Harm, Mentions of Emotional Abuse, Mentions of Slight Physical Abuse. I put TW in front of the paragraphs I felt needed them as well for those of you that want to skip those parts.

Since it’s Autism Acceptance Month I thought I’d share my story with you. I don’t think anyone actually knows all of what I’m about to tell you. It’s gonna be long. Each paragraph will be a different part of my story. You can skip around to whatever part(s) interest you. So, here we go.

When I was a baby my clothes had to be just right. If my clothing, especially my socks, didn’t touch me in the right way I would flip. My mom always said I never cried except for these times. I also slept through the night always. One night I just kept screaming, but only while in the bed. My mom removed everything from the crib but it kept happening. She picked up the mattress and there was a tiny baby sock underneath the mattress. After it was removed I instantly fell asleep. From then on my mom called me Pea, from Princess and the Pea. She didn’t really think anything past that this would be a funny story to tell in the future.

As I got older my parents noticed it wasn’t just my clothes. Everything had to be organized a certain way or it bugged me. My mom would say ‘Just let it go, Sweetie’. But I couldn’t. Some things she accepted. Like how when we went to the store I had to rearrange all the products on the shelves I could see so that everything was aligned and facing the proper way. If something didn’t belong we had to find where it went and put it back. She saw this as just me being quirky and helpful.

Others she had a short fuss about. Like when the radio in the car was to loud and I would scream, cover my ears, and pull my knees up to my chest. She would pull over and pull my hands from my ears saying, ‘Now, you listen to me. This is not how normal people behave. I’ve taught you better than to behave like this. Your scream could have made me crash the car. You have to think about the people around you. If it’s to loud you ask politely for someone to turn it down. Do you understand?’ I never knew why I didn’t react to things “normally” and I adapted as my mom said. I think I just started masking at an early age.

I was always talking and fidgeting in school. My teachers told my parents that I had trouble focusing and refused to participate in nap time. The blankets and mats never felt right and I could never fall asleep. Later I realized my thoughts were just going to fast and I couldn’t focus on trying to sleep. Around the time I was 8 is when my insomnia got really bad. Sometimes I’d go days without sleeping. My dad wanted to take me in to the doctor and see if there was something wrong. I always got good grades though so as far as my mom was concerned my teachers just couldn’t deal with how unique I was.

When I was 11 my grades started to slip. That’s when my mom got concerned. My doctor had his suspicions that I could have an autism spectrum disorder, but he’d been my moms doctor for a long time and knew how she was. He told her he wanted me to get a special kind of hearing test. Luckily with my dads insurance it covered specialists. My mom is deaf and it had made school hard for her so she assumed that must be what was wrong. The specialist did a series of tests. A hearing test, a vision test, a balance test, a memory test, they even hooked me up to all these wires to test my reaction to different stimuli. My mom knew this wasn’t just a special hearing test, but we were already there. It took hours. It was 4 or 6 because we had to take breaks.

A couple weeks later we went back in for the results. The doctor said that I had a very specific type of ADD. It was called Sensory Processing Disorder. The way he explained it to us was that the Autism Spectrum was like a tree. SPD was a neurological condition. It was the mildest form of ADD and ADD was the mildest form of Autism. My mom said that ADD wasn’t real. That it was bad parenting because every kid she knew that had it she would never let their parents watch her kids. She said she was a good parent and there was no way I had that.

The doctor said that my mom was wrong and I had inflammation in every part of my body. Because of that I either had SPD or I had an infection that was eating me alive from the inside. My mom opted to try medications for the possible infection to see if that was the problem. I was on them for over 6 months and nothing changed. My mom accepted the diagnosis after that and they started me on Vyvanse when I was 12. It really helped with my concentration and a little with my sleep which was all my mom was concerned about. So, all was well and good right? Wrong.

TW: Emotional/Physical Abuse. I felt like I had to be the perfect child because I only had an issue concentrating and my sisters had a lot of mental problems. Which they took out on me. My parents never knew the amount of emotional abuse my sisters put me through. I was always really clumsy. My balance was terrible so I was always tripping and falling over. My distance perception was super off so I was always running into things. It made the result of when things did get physical easier to hide. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it did happen enough that I probably should have told my parents what was going on. I thought it was just how siblings were, you know.

My sisters where going through so much and my parents were trying to deal with my sisters stuff. So, I stayed in the background not complaining and being the “good/perfect child”. So I continued to “adapt”. I continued to mimic my mother because she was “normal”. I continued to mask until I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Until the mask was all I was, or in better words all I let myself be.

TW: Self Harm. As the years went on and I actually did research on SPD I realized there was never anything wrong with me. I learned that the way I coped with stimuli I didn’t like was unhealthy, but it worked. So I continued to mask and cope how I always had. The way I coped was with pain. I would scratch myself until I bled because I couldn’t really feel the pain, but I could feel enough that it distracted me. I would hit myself and bang my head into things. When I started to realize I didn’t always have to be perfect I still only let my best friend and my dad know the real me. I never had to do any kind of therapy because that was for people with real issues. And according to my mom I learned how to function properly with mine unlike my sisters. So there was no need. I was healthy and normal as far as my mom was concerned.

After I graduated college and got a job was when I decided to stop all of that. The management at my job was terrible and I couldn’t keep up the bullshit at work and at home I was just to tired. And I was hurting myself so much it was bordering on dangerous. I always had minor dissociation episodes, that my parents called selective hearing. But I was dissociating a lot at work for longer periods of time.

As I was starting to figure out who I was without the mask my mom and I were fighting a lot. She asked what happened to me and why couldn’t I be who I had always been. I said this is who I always was and I was done pretending. And she said if this was the real me then she didn’t like this me very much. After another year I realized that still wasn’t me. I had been masking for so long I still didn’t know who I was.

It’s been a very long and sometimes torturous journey to get to where I am now. But I am now able to be the real me. Me telling this story is in no way me bashing my mom. She loves me very much and was very uneducated at these times. She also had a lot going on with her own and all three of my sisters mental health issues. If I had talked to her or my dad about what was going on things would have gone differently. She didn’t find out any of this until last year.

If you made it this far or even if you skipped through I hope you guys enjoyed my story. Maybe this will even help someone. Who knows. I love you all and as always my DM’s and Ask Box are always open for questions or comments.

[takerfoxx]

She Ra and the Power of Redemption!

A’ight, so, She-Ra’s coming back in a few days for their final season. Obviously I am SUPER excited about it, but before it drops, I need to get something I’m kind of worried about off my chest.

See, I’ve talked before about my big pet peeve in fiction, in which good or at least sympathetic characters do really bad things and don’t suffer appropriate consequences, sometimes because the writer just doesn’t understand the weight of what happened and wanted to rush a redemption arc or maybe get a little dirt on their heroes without really considering the implications or wanted to do something shocking and was clumsy and/or lazy about or even felt that they were justified even when they clearly weren’t. It’s even killed a few onetime favorite series of mine.

And I see the potential for She-Ra to make that same mistake here. And I think anyone who’s seen the show and has interacted with the fandom knows what I’m talking about.

I’m talking of course about Catra and Hordak’s potential redemption arcs.

Catra’s redemption is topic number one with the fans, because everyone wants to see it, but most people want to see it done right. The Catradora thing is the fuel on which the fandom runs, and I know quite a few people that would pop dem bottles if it were to become canon. And I totally get it: Catra is a magnificently written character, one who is super compelling, complex, and sympathetic, and her dynamic with Adora is just dripping with all sorts of tension. It’s the best friends to lovers AND enemies to lovers in the same package. Who wouldn’t want to see it?

Except, there is a problem...

See, one thing I have highly praised this show for is how, despite being a show targeted toward little girls, it paints a very realistic picture of abusive relationships and handles the subject with all the seriousness it deserves, from how they’re formed to how they continue to how the cycle goes from abuser to victim to next victim to so on. Horde Prime abused Hordak, Hordak abused Shadow Weaver, Shadow Weaver abused Catra and Adora, Adora broke free while Catra did not, Catra then abused Scorpia, Entrapta, Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio, you get the picture. And they show it so wonderfully, in all of its forms.

But that leads us to that problem, and that is despite definitely being a victim of abuse, and despite all of her sympathetic qualities, Catra is still a terrible person! She became as much an abuser as Shadow Weaver, with how awfully she treated Scorpia, with backstabbing Entrapta and manipulating Hordak, with bullying her subordinates, to everything she’s done to Adora and all the lives she ruined from her exploits as Hordak’s second in command. She masterminded the destruction of Salineas, sent Entrapta off to die, treated the only person who has given her unconditional love like shit. Her damage and insecurities have driven her to worse and worse behavior, up and to including almost destroying the fucking world just so Adora couldn’t win again! TWICE!

Basically, after handling the abuse themes so well, it would really, really suck for her to just be taken back and forgiven like nothing had happened or only minor consequences after she inevitably switched sides, because that carries the message, however unintentional, that abuse victims should forgive and take back their abusers, that it’s up to them to be the bigger person and invite those who hurt them back into their lives, which history has only shown will just restart the cycle all over again.

However, all of that does not mean I don’t think Catra is beyond hope, or that she shouldn’t be redeemed at all. She is absolutely a victim of all the terrible treatment Shadow Weaver and Hordak put her through since childhood, be it physical, mental, or emotional, and I am NOT about to hold an emotionally traumatized teenager to the same standards I would hold those more fortunate. Plus, we’ve seen how much her actions haunt her, from her nightmares about Entrapta to her psychological breakdowns to everything Double Trouble exposed about her. And I do truly want what’s best for her.

So how should the show go about it? Well, I think my half-joking wishlist from earlier just about covered it: after switching sides and helping the Alliance ward off the Horde, Catra should leave. Whether or not she makes amends with Adora, whether or not she’s forgiven, Catra needs to leave those she’s hurt and go somewhere else to start over, to separate herself from those she has so many insecurities about and work on bettering herself. Because after everything she’s done, she really does need to put in a lot of work in order to properly fix herself before she can even think of reforging relationships with Adora or Scorpia or Entrapta. 

And honestly, I still think the Crimson Waste is perfect for her. She thrived while down there. And it does seem like it’s been set up specifically for her. And then...maybe a few years down the line, after she’s come to grips with herself...well, we’ll see.

Now, as for Hordak...

Look, I like the guy, I honestly do. His relationship with Entrapta gave me life, seeing how he was literally grown in a vat to be Space Hitler Jr., it’s no wonder that he turned out like he did. 

Buuuuut...he’s still a murderous despot with buckets of blood on his hands. I’m sorry, but he can’t have a switch sides, now it’s all good happy ending. He just can’t. 

Fortunately, even though he was far worse, his possible redemption has an easier solution. You know how Horde Prime restored him to factory settings, wiping his mind and sending him off to be processed or whatever?

What if he stays that way? What if he never gets his memories back? What if Hordak, the evil conquering dictator that ruined so many lives, just stays gone? But the newly wiped Hordak, upon encountering Entrapta, is able to recall just enough to know that he cares for her, prompting him to break free from Horde Prime’s control for her sake? Call it the Kubo and the Two Strings solution.

As for Shadow Weaver...no. Just no. She has no redeeming qualities at all. Everything bad that ever happened to her are a direct result of her own actions, she doesn’t have the brainwashed/designed that way excuse that Catra and Hordak have, she’s never done a single decent thing since becoming Shadow Weaver, and even after switching sides has continued to manipulate Glimmer and gaslight Adora. No redemption for her. And since Noelle has said that she hates killing off characters, I don’t see her getting killed either.

So just swap her for Angella. Send her to the other dimension and get our girl back.

And as for Entrapta and Double Trouble...dude, I don’t even know. Like, they also did bad things, but they’re kind of in their own weird moral worlds, and I don’t want to let them off the hook but also can’t fathom how that would even work...

You know what? They’re the weird exceptions that prove the rule, I guess.

(also note that even if they botch this, it probably won’t kill the show for me, as it’s still a kid’s show and it has built up a ton of good will, so my overall feelings will still be very positive, I’d just be bummed that they dropped the ball in this one, albeit very important, area)

[silke-doomflare]

Meet the character: Ainu

BASICS

► Name ➔  “Ainu”, the tiny lalafell answers politely and bows. “Ainu Wanyuudo. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

► Are you single ➔ “What an odd question.” She eyes you up and down, her eyes slightly narrowed. “Why are you asking? Are you up to something?”

► Are you happy ➔  She rolls her eyes. “’Happy...’ One of those words I’ve never truly understood. Oh well, I guess I’m happy enough. I have a job I like and steady income... Actually I’m making the most gil of our family, apart from my mother.”

► Are you angry? ➔  Ainu smiles widely. “Funny that you asked, since I haven’t been this angry in ages. It takes quite a lot to make me angry. This certain thug tried to murder my mother not too long ago, and I’m plotting a vengeance worth of such a deed”, she states casually, like she’d be talking about weather.

► Are your parents still married ➔  “I only have my adoptive mother, and as far as I’ve understood, she prefers to stay alone. Which I, of course, perfectly understand. Romance would only be a risk and hindrance in the criminal underworld.”

EIGHT FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Kugane. I stayed there for the first half of my life, and the second half I spent traveling and training around the far east.”

► Hair Color ➔ “Black?” she asks slightly confused, and glances upwards at her bangs. “Yep. So it’d seem.”

► Eye Color ➔ Ainu rolls her eyes again. She marches closer, looks up to you and pulls her lower eyelid slightly downwards, so that you can see the blood red orb clearly.

► Birthday ➔ “I have no clue about the exact date. I only know it’s sometimes around spring.”

► Mood ➔ “...bored. I am so... bored! You see, I was given this interesting assignment a couple of months ago, but my target has done nothing. Nothing! Either he chickened out just because he’s a coward, or somebody told him I was after him, and he chickened out because... well... he’s still a coward.” Ainu lets out a frustrated sigh. “I do know I have quite a reputation, but I wish people wouldn’t back off from the game because of it. How shameful. One should finish what one starts.”

► Gender ➔ Ainu raises her eyebrows. “Seriously, have you considered glasses?”

► Summer or winter ➔ “Summer absolutely. Working is easier in summer. No footprints.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Afternoon. Most of my work consists of night shifts, and I’m more of a night owl anyway.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ She snorts and looks at you scornfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced any kind of love. I grew up in an environment where such a thing didn’t exist. Besides, as far as I’ve been observing people around me, who are in love, it seems more like a nuisance than something worth pursuing.”

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “I don’t believe in love at all.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ Ainu lets out a frustrated sigh. “It should be obvious at this point, but I have never had that kind of relationship. First of all: I would be insane if I let another person that close to me. And secondly: even if such a miracle happened, it would eventually fail, because the other party couldn’t handle everything a pact like that with me would bring with it.”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  “I think I... maay have broken my mother’s heart at some point. She’s been trying so hard to save me. Though, I’m not quite sure what she’s trying to save me from. She should know by now that I’m not one of those people who need saving.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Commitments? Do you mean my pacts with my customers? No, I’m not afraid of commitments. If I had to name one of those few things in this messed up world I find meaningful, it would be my reputation and bringing honor to the shinobi who trained me.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Do hugs received from others count as me hugging them? They do? Then I’ve been hugged, yes.”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “If I have, I’m not aware of it. However, in theory it could be entirely possible. People - well, mostly my family - keeps telling me how cute I am, so I wouldn’t be surprised if others would’ve noticed my charm as well.”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Hm. You nosy little cockroach just had to remind me, just for the sake of some interview? ...yes, I have broken my own heart. By believing that if I just was a good girl, she’d love me. If I just tried hard enough, I’d eventually gain her acceptance. And after she had left, I kept believing she’d come back for me. I wasted too many years telling lies to myself. Should’ve realized sooner the only living thing you can trust is yourself.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ "Lust. Not that I’d be interested in it, but definitely lust rather than love. I think I already made my opinion about love clear earlier, yes?”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Iced tea, absolutely. I don’t know about you people here, but we drink quite a lot of tea in the east - both hot and cold.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Cats. In general, I don’t like animals, but the less trouble they are the more I could say I like them. Besides, do you have any idea what a pain badly trained dogs can be especially to us smallfolk?”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ Ainu repeats the word ‘friend’ and sneers. “Now there’s another thing I never learned to understand. People talk about friends like they’d be a good thing. I don’t call them friends, but backstabbers. I’d rather not have any of them.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Wild night out - alone.” Ainu smiles charmingly.

► Day or night ➔ “At night I feel most alive. Almost everyone else is asleep, and I’m free to do whatever I want, to whoever I want.”

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “In the beginning of my training. I wasn’t used to suddenly having so much different rules to live by, so naturally I rebelled. I couldn’t understand why my mother... - Asagi at this point - would dare to leave me there. Anyhow... I soon realized one couldn’t be a good shinobi without discipline, so I never did it again.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “I don’t think I have. My balance is unparalleled.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Love”, she answers without thinking. Right after her mouth is twisted into a slightly creepy grin. “But that was before realizing it’s not necessary.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ “Oh, a couple of times actually, mostly back when I was still in training but had just started practicing with real targets. Not to brag, but nowadays I’m quite good at what I do. Nevertheless, even I can’t completely avoid mistakes. My area of work is one of those were mistakes will likely cost you your life. So, yes... after being sloppy I’ve had angry targets chasing me. Without my training I wouldn’t have had a chance escaping them with these tiny feets of mine.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “I don’t care about either, but if I had to choose one... smile. To be honest, I don’t like to look people in the eye. From their eyes it’s fairly easy to tell are they lying or not. It annoys me, when people are saying something, but their gaze tells they don’t mean a single word.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Shorter. I hate it when people look down on me like I’d be some piece of shite they accidentally stepped on.” Ainu falls silent for a moment, and after a while, shrugs. “Then again... it’s also quite hilarious when people have to bow or kneel before me, when they want to whisper or give me something. I guess being a stump also has its’ boons...”

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “Attraction of course. The more intelligent people are, the more trouble they usually give me. I prefer situations where I’m the smartest one around.”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ Ainu’s unimpressed expression hints she’d probably rather watch paint dry or grass grow than talk about this kind of subjects. “Well... if I had to choose... hook-up. That wouldn’t tie me to anyone in any way. The less I have people around me the better.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “My current family? We get along just fine. ...Apart from some minor disagreements usually considering work and how it’s supposed to be done. Sometimes it makes me wonder would they listen to me more if I had born roegadyn instead.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ Ainu giggles, but there’s no genuine amusement in her voice. “Well, at least it hasn’t been normal, if that’s what you mean. It... could’ve been better. I admit seeing happy families and people having fun with their friends tend to make me somewhat bitter, even angry. But perhaps those things just weren’t meant for me. I’m capable of things those regular people are not, and I believe the Kami have bigger plans for me than some boring everyday life.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “No, but I probably should have.”

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “Yes, and that’s the exact reason why I should’ve ran away. If I had just realized sooner what was going on... But meh... I guess it’s unreasonable to expect a five-year-old or younger to understand your parent is actually a piece of filth you would be better without.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ Ainu lets out a frustrated sigh. “Since you seem to be unable to grasp the concept of not having friends, I’m just going to answer your friend-related questions by using my family members instead. Does that sound good? Good.”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ Ainu pouts while shifting her hands behind her back. “Mostly. My adoptive sisters are both as... tolerable as siblings can be, I think. I’m not so sure about Bella, though, and what she’s going to do with her life. Same with my aunt, Silke. Those two are the only law-abiding citizens of our family - as far as I know at least - so that kind of forces me to keep my eye on them. If a betrayal were to happen, they’d be my main suspects.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “Aya”, Ainu answers without a moment of hesitation. “If I had to name one thing I truly appreciate in people - besides not stabbing me in the back, obviously - it would be their ability to return my friendly bantering and not get offended by it.”

► Who knows everything about you ➔ Ainu smiles sunnily, before answering: “No one. Though mother is probably quite close to it.”

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Makeup Session

Follow-up to a discussion (link to part of it) where @sluttyspiderpolkacock agreed to trade some venison sausage to Alastor if he agreed to get in drag. And then this follow-up discussion. So Alastor showed up at Angel’s room to get his makeup done, and also preemptively sulk about the fact that Angel thought he didn’t WANT his makeup done.

Angel

Something felt off. Tone was hard to read through text. It certainly didn't hold a candle to Angel's forte reading the body, but he was nonetheless possessed by conscience to descend the grand stairway to collect the aforementioned head from the freezer. Much as it shook him to his core to be using his precious palettes on the thing ( _mental as well as physical in the sense that he couldn't help feeling Vaggie's same shiver when the eyes locked on him_ ) , the spider found himself blending the finishing touches off a perfect cadaver's smoky eye before reaching for a radio. " Hey Smiles, if ya up, getcha grinnin' mug in 'ere. I got somethin' ta show ya. "

Alastor

Instead of responding, the radio crackles and plays a stanza of a 50s song with a female singer: “* Now if I call him on the telephone, and tell him that I'm all alone, by the time I count from one to four, I hear him knock, knock, knock, knock on my door—*”

Knock, knock, knock, knock. It’s the Radio Demon.

https://youtu.be/MeT9Glm_Jgg

Angel

" Hehe, very cute, Al. " Angel left the radio playing on his vanity and repositioned the head before going for the door. " So I did that practice run ya wanted, " he said lethargically with a flourish toward his station, " Not that I don't do up faces like yours on th' regula', but since ya _insisted..._ " Leaving the door open, he returned to the head and held it up to present his work in the light. " I went an' did it. Ya still game fa this look? "

Alastor

Alastor stepped in just enough for the door—pushed by who-knows-what—to swing shut behind him. He glanced over Angel's makeup station before focusing on the head. "Decided the head was useful after all?" he asked dryly. He glanced over the look—seemed like just smudged eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick, all basic black—and after only a second or two said, "It's fine."

Angel

" Usefu-? Nah, nah this was fa you! " he explained with a pull of his vanity seat to offer, " Bone structure's actually... _not_ that big a deal. With contourin', ya can pretty much create any shape ya want. A course, only within' the ma'gins a ya face, but even then ya can do a helluva lot. I once _completely_ erased my peripheral eyes fa a client. They got definition, but ended up lookin smooth as a bambino's ass. " Angel caught himself rambling with a sigh. Alastor only gave a fuck about the venison. He was wasting his time. _But---_ " ... What I _do_ wanna check out is ya skintone, though. I'd guess youse neutral all th' way through, but since we ain't human anymore an' the inside a the wrist trick ain't so reliable, I'd haveta experiment with ya cheeks. "

Alastor

"I said you could chuck it out if it wasn't useful." He unlatched his hands from where he'd clasped them behind his back, took the offered seat, hooked one ankle over the opposite knee, and sat perfectly straight. Very professional, not terribly welcoming. "I prefer the shape my face currently has."

He glanced at the head again. "Yes, well, that's why I decapitated somebody who matches my complexion." He paused. "I suppose that didn't last after freezing him, though. But how much skin tone matching do you need to do with black eye shadow and lipstick?"

Angel

" Ya ain't up fa foundation? It's beauty base level one, Sweetie, it evens ya out an'... " Angel hummed and took a moment to lean in to judge his skin. " ... Ya know what? Ya don't even need it. Youse one a the lucky ones. Who would a thought ~ ? " With a shrug of his shoulders, he took a knee and pulled a package of wipes from a drawer. " Should clean ya up some, though, just ta make this whole process easier. " He opened them up, a puff of a fresh, sweet scent emanating from the package. " Allow me, uh. " Eyes flickered to his posture. " Or you wanna handle it? " he asked, " No harsh chemicals or anythin', just clean an' good fa ya. "

Alastor

There's the slightest narrowing to his eyes that suggested he wasn't quite sure what "foundation" was, but, whatever it was, he didn't fully trust it.

The squint didn't quite go away when Angel withdrew the option of foundation; but he did offer some actual conversation. "I don't think my skin's entirely natural. Never looked into what's changed about it, though."

He glanced down at the package. "Go ahead." And, after a moment, he uncrossed his leg, leaned forward, and planted his elbows on his knees to give Angel easier access to his face.

Angel

He fluttered a short series of disbelieving blinks, not expecting him to pass any opportunity to take up something easy enough to handle himself. Nonetheless, he put on his professional poker face and started with gentle sweeps from his forehead. " Ok, close ya eyes, " he instructed as he continued.

" Whatcha meanin'? Ya sittin' in front a me while soundin' like youse comin' from a cell tower miles away. Ain't nothin' natural about the lot of us, anyways. "

With that, Angel started looking  little more closely for indications of what he meant. " I don't... _think_ there's anythin' weird about it. And that's comin' from a perpetually peach-fuzzed _bitch,_ " he joked, " Ya tellin' me givin yaself a full body once over wasn't the first thin' ya did when ya dropped 'ere? "

Alastor

Alastor tisked to himself at Angel’s surprised blinks; the sound didn’t emerge from his own mouth, but as a click coming out of the still-on radio nearby.

“No, the *first* thing I did was look for pants. But of course examining my body was the second thing.” He shut his eyes obediently. “I mean it doesn’t act quite like skin is supposed to. Not in a way that’s ‘unnatural’ but ‘artificial.’ Doesn’t react to substances it’s supposed to, doesn’t smell like skin—” He made a vague, dismissive gesture. “Natural side-effect of being dead, no doubt. Never you mind. It doesn’t need foundation, I’m sure that’s all that matters.”

Angel

Angel couldn't help blowing a raspberry, but managed to duck and cover in time to avoid any inadvertent spitting.

" Right, _right_! Not _everyone's_ lucky enough ta have long luscious _fluff ~_ " he teased, quickly discarding the wipe before bringing out his choice of liquid liner.

" E'ryone's got their own musk. _Believe me._ Yours ain't the _worst._ If it does anythin' weird with my shit, we'll play it by ear. Open. " Angel uncapped the liner and drew a thin line on the back of his hand for Alastor to see. " This shit didn' come around until the 60s, but it sure beats melting a pencil with a lighter and sufferin' minor burns fa a killer cat eye, " he laughed before motioning for him to close his eyes again via his own.

" Don't worry. Ya good enough not ta need foundation. Ya probably ain't even gonna need much lip, either. Ya smile's gonna be takin' care a most a that. What _I'm_ gonna be havin' fun with _here,_ is givin' ya some pretty dramatic eyes! "

Alastor

“I know I’ve got my own musk. My musk smells like a machine, not a person.” He wasn’t kidding; he smelled like the interior of a secondhand electronics store, all burning dust and hot electrical components. He could hardly ever smell it himself, but he knew his scent.

He examined the liner briefly, then shut his eyes again. “I can handle the lipstick myself, when it comes to that.”

Angel

" Ok! I'll do it with ya so you can copy me, " he asserted, moderately chipper. Angel then habitually reached to steady his chin as he approached the first sweep, but stopped himself in favor of taking the challenge without any unnecessary contact. Instead,  he braced an elbow upon his vanity and shut his left eye, as he did while aiming down iron sights. " Ya ever done it before? Or like, watched ya mammina? "

Alastor

“I’ve done it. Not in a while and I’m not quite as good without a stencil, but I’m not a complete embarrassment.” He does an admirable job of holding his head still while talking. “I expect lip stencils aren’t a thing anymore, are they? Can’t recall the last time I saw one.”

Angel

" Perfectin' the cupid's bow ain't no easy feat ~ " he commented as he worked, followed by a chuckle.

" They fell outta practice when people sta'ted realizin' they was mostly fa white chicks who ain't _got any._ _My_ theory is chola liner's some genius _shade_ about it... _Badumtss~_ "

" Can't imagine you'd be able ta see what'cha doin' if ya tried usin a stencil _now_ though, with that huge smile a yours takin' up half ya face!  "

Amused with himself, he paused to chuckled a moment before the rest of what Alastor said processed. " _When_ 'ave ya done it before? "

Alastor

“Well, they work just fine on Creole gentlemen, too.” That liner joke is a mix of references a little too specific for Alastor to get, so he let it pass without comment. “No, of course I can’t see what I’m doing smiling like this. Why do you think I’m going to do my own lipstick?”

The corner of his mouth twitched wryly at Angel’s question. “Oh—pfff.” The huff came out as a burst of static as he rolled his eyes up and tried to remember. “Mainly the twenties, some in the forties... smattering of times since then... seventies or nineties or aughts—don’t think I ever did in the eighties. But probably only a dozen times in the last fifty years. Like I said, ‘not in a while.’”

Angel

" I know e'ryone _loves_ the 80s... " he groaned, " Unpopular opinion, but _somethin'_ went pretty fuckin' _wrong_ in that decade... " There's a twang of personal resentment to his tone, sharp as the glinted gold off razor clenched teeth.

" Ok, open up an look up so I can do the bottom. "

Though it disappeared just as quickly as he snickered at his own innuendo, further still as all eight eyes lit up.

" AH! So ya fuckin' DABBLED! What ELSE ya been holdin' out on me with, Al? Ya 'ad fun dickin' with drag? Would ya 'ave done it more if ya 'ad the chance? Figure bein' the fuckin', RADIO DEMON's a full time job, but wit' THAT kin'a title... ain't no one gonna be fuckin' wit' YOU. "

It did occur to him that the lack of frequency would answer his question, but he shoved the logic aside for his own wishful thinking. His fluff started to shimmy with excitement and he halted his work in favor of steadying himself on the ground as he were readying a running start.

Alastor

“I spent the 80s in the 10s. Missed most of it.” He opened his eyes and looked up.

“I’ve done it as much as I’ve cared to.” A shrug. “You know I have a skirt, I’m on the record as having sung a drag queen’s part on a musical album—and yet you’re surprised I’ve done drag? What did you think the skirt was for, flagging down taxis?” He scoffed. “I’m sure you must think I’m just another one of those *tediously* defensive men who have allergic reactions if anything even slightly delicate brushes their skin.” There was an edge to his voice that matched the tenseness in his posture since he’d come into the room.

Angel

" Nah-nah-nah, if youse anythin' it's fuckin' nothin' _I've_ ever known. " Angel smoothed himself out, taking a moment before cursing his season and getting back to work.

" Less than a musical number afte' learnin' youse this Ove'lord level hotshot who ate fuckin' cities fa breakfast, you were in th' kitchen treatin' the whole house ta dinner. If ya gonna kick my ass fa anythin', I know it ain't gonna be fa the same reasons I gotta be watchin' my back on th' streets, Da'lin'. "

He then sat back on his mile-long haunches to judge his handiwork from a distance. " Alright! Step Two's done! Whatcha think? "

Alastor

Alastor regarded Angel skeptically for a moment; but then finally relaxed a bit, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. “And yet you were so convinced that I was looking for ways to wiggle out of this little meeting.”

He turned toward the mirror, studying the eyeliner. “Fine so far.” After a pause, he added, “You don’t think the smudged eyeshadow is going to be too much on top of my natural eyelid color, do you?”

Angel

" Youse a _dealmaker ~_ " he sang as he collected his shadow pallette, again showing Alastor test strokes on the back of his hand, " Wigglin' through loopholes what th' likes a ya do. Like an art. But th' kind that has fuckin', hidden scary shit subtext in th' background that haunts ya fa decades. An' I wasn't about ta let ya wiggle ya skinny ass outta _THIS~_ "

" I'll... " He scrutinized the shades before settling on a sparse swatch with subtle hints of glitter. " Work off whatcha got. Change a plans. I'm doin' ya lips a da'k red and enhancin' the natural shade a ya lids. "

Alastor

"You're right, I *am* a dealmaker. If I was that opposed to getting a little paint on my face, do you think I would have agreed so readily for nothing but a bit of sausage?" He scoffed again. "I agreed to your terms because there was no downside to them. Congratulations on managing to insert a downside that didn't previously exist in the terms—I wasn't expecting to get publicly accused of being too cowardly to wear makeup."

He eyed the new swatch doubtfully. "Do you have one that's less sparkly? Sparkles aren't terribly... me. I mean," he gestured at his ridiculous red getup, "that's not to say I'm not *flamboyant*—but I'm not *that* kind of flamboyant."

Angel

" Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I'll make it up t' ya an' take ya t' work wit' me sometime. _Not_ ta do wit' whatcha thinkin'. I'll show ya where I been gettin' all my shit, but ya _cannot_ be fuckin' seen. "

His conscience screamed, alarm bells wildly ringing throughout the backstage of his brain.

" New deal? " he asked with a new selection of charcoal grey, " I'm startin' ta think ya deserve better than a single color palette. It'll go with ya- I mean, MY, bowtie. "

Alastor

"*Thank* you!" At the apology, Alastor immediately brightened. "That's hardly necessary—but, I admit, I do wonder what you *are* going to pull out if 'what I'm thinking' has already been ruled out."

Alastor glanced over the newly proposed color and a game show bell dinged his approval. "How many palettes does one need to just cover eyes and lips?"

Angel

" Well, that last venison treat I got from th' street, but at work... we got a lot more where that came from. A candy store fa cannibalistic radio demons, " he joked, " Kiddin'. Specifically _not_ fa cannibalistic radio demons. Unless ya gonna _pay,_ but I doubt ya gonna be interested in th' usual package deal anyways. I'll just take ya in through the back. "

" Close ~ " Angel instructed once again before sweeping his brush, " As many as there are different tastes in th' world, Sweethea't. Not e'eryone's satisfied doin' or wearin' th' same thin' fa all a eternity. It gets _borin' ~ _ "

Alastor

"*Do* you? Maybe I was a little hasty when I decided the porn industry doesn't have anything that would appeal to me!" Laugh track. "I'll take that under consideration."

He closed his eyes. "I can hardly wear all of them at once! And I don't exactly have plans to do this again any time soon."

Angel

" I already introduced ya ta hentai. Am I gonna have ta show you vore, too? " A snicker. His crusade to find Alastor's niche interests had already been put to rest.

" That's a _shame ~_ Guess I better make this count then, ah? Ya gettin' mascara. By th' time I'm done wit' them lashes ya gonna be able ta clear a room wit' a couple bats. "

Alastor

"I've heard that one already! And ever since then, have been haunted by wondering what my rare voluntary victims get out of offering themselves up." He stuck out his tongue, bleh.

"Oh, good. I always enjoy clearing out a room with nothing but my face."

Angel

Angel couldn't help a flurry of giggles as he reached for his go-to wand. The _Radio Demon_ was _cute._

He applied the mascara generously, taking care to smooth out any clumps as he went. Bittersweetly, he sat back and kept himself from nitpicking any details to touch up for the sole sake of drawing out the process.

" Well, there ya 'ave it. The face of a _"Cha'min' Demon Belle"_ in ya _own_ right. Almost. Lemme find ya a bran' new one. Brushes an' applicators I wash, but lipstick goes directly on. "

Alastor

Alastor opened his eyes and leaned in toward the mirror to inspect the results. Angel was better with mascara than him. No surprise, really.

He had a new accent on when he next spoke: "Well! I do declare, you have done a simply *marvelous* job!" It was very much charming demon *Southern* belle, and he'd quite clearly practiced it before. He switched back to his usual voice before continuing: "I don't mind scraping off the last layer of germs with a hankie, it worked fine for us in New York." But he wasn't going to *complain* if he got a fresh one.

Angel

His jaw slacked. Of _course_ the amount of time and attention Alastor must've put into his voice would add up to him being able to pull off such a _sound_ outside his register. Much as Angel tried, he could never get nearly as close to sounding that _feminine,_ clear as a  _bell,_ pun intended. He was as much endeared as he was jealous.

" ... _Damn, dude,_ " was all he said on the matter before busying himself with his lipstick drawer. He pulled out his own favorite alongside a brand new burgundy shade, wordlessly breaking the safety seal and tossing the plastic.

" It's all yours. Now look. "

Folding his secondary elbows over the surface of his vanity, he joined Alastor at the mirror and twisted the cap. " Ya can go for whateve' shape ya want. Flat, pointed bow, rounded bow, a shape shorter than ya natural smile that looks like ya got a permanent pout. I like ta call that one th' Betty Boop... "

He flashed his eyes over as he racked his thoughts. " Pointed bow prolly best fa a big smile. They'd round out on they own with ya stretch, " he explained before beginning to draw out the shape on his own lips.

Alastor

Alastor cleared his throat with a rumble of static and winked at Angel. "Still convincing, I hope." Of course it was still convincing. He'd heard himself.

He'd wondered how he was going to make it look good with a smile—he always had trouble with that part. *Pointed* bow. Made sense. He watched closely as Angel demonstrated.

Angel

Angel rolled his eyes. All eight of them. " Yeah-yeah, _that's_ the word. _Convincin' ~_ " He snickered with a wink of his own and made a couple faces in the mirror.

" Yeah, pointed bow'll do it. Don't be afraid ta exaggerate some. It ain't gonna look as ridiculous as ya think it will so long as ya own it. If it ain't feelin right, ya can always take some edge off with a claw. No 'arm done. "

He then rested his chin in his palm to watch him in the mirror. " _Go fa it ~_ "

Alastor

He watched until Angel was done—even copying Angel's hand motions with his own, tracing his tube of lipstick in the air—and then he said, "Got it." He sat back and made a twirling gesture with one finger. "Turn around. No facing me and no facing any mirrors facing me."

Angel

" What- " He rose a brow sky-high. " _Seriously?_ C'mon, man, it's not like ya _strippin'_ in 'ere. " Nonetheless, he obliged with a turn to his bed and a dramatic drop of his face into a pillow before giving Alastor a sextuple thumbs up.

Alastor

Lightly, Alastor said, "Everyone's entitled to their quirks. This one's mine." He waited until Angel was flopped before turning back to the mirror and pursing his lips.

He looked so *tired* when he wasn't smiling. The eye makeup really didn't do anything to hide that. He tried to focus on his lips instead of his eyes, copied the motion Angel had done, and examined the results. It took him a few tries to get an outline that looked alright when he smiled, and then he filled it in. Not bad, he thought. Made his fangs stand out more.

"All right. You can come inspect the results." Alastor glanced at Angel, face down in a pillow, and added, "If you haven't smothered yourself."

Angel

Angel twisted back around, a vague pile of pink striped limbs promptly realigning into a comfortably casual lounge.

" _Hey ~ !_ Not BAD, Mista _Twelve_ Times ~ ! " he complimented with a snap of his fingers, " That's gonna getcha e'rythin' I got left, uh-kay ~ ? "

Folding his arms behind him, he got up and leaned about Alastor on all sides to appreciate all angles of his ( for the most part ) work.

" ... ... Next time ya do anythin' like this, take me wit' ya, ah? "

Alastor

"Even without the skirt?" He'd put the Southern belle voice back on. "Well, bless your heart! Aren't you the generous one?"

He stolidly endured the scrutiny—this was the least pleasant part of the whole process, *the scrutiny.* "It's not something I do often, remember—I don't get much out of it. But if a reasonable opportunity comes up, I'll keep you in mind."

Angel

Angel stepped back with a sheepish laugh, test-stroked hand over his mouth. " Fine, fine, I won't put ya through anythin' else. Ya can 'ave summa my venison wheneva ya want. Youse a good sport ~ "

His many arms then made quick work of cleaning up his vanity. The head could go away later.

" Here, ya can take these, too, " he said with an offer of the rest of the makeup wipes, " Fa after dinner. An' any other time ya feel like freshenin' up. They _do_ work _wonders_ on _blood ~_ "

Alastor

"Do they! How handy." Those were going in... nope, his pockets were currently occupied, that was where he was stowing the glut of spare bow ties he'd suddenly acquired. He dropped the makeup wipes through a little portal, they could hang out in another dimension for now.

Angel

The corners of his eyes rounded wide at the sudden sight. " Didja just...? " Angel vaguely gestured towards the floor, still in the midst of processing what he just saw. " Give my shit ta HENTAI? He even HAVE a face? "

Alastor

Alastor laughed. "I'm sure he'd find some use for them!" He got to his feet; they were about done here, weren't they? "But, no! I've got more than one little dimension I can open up. That one happens to be—well—more or less my travel trunk, I suppose. It has too much in it for me to call it a handbag!" He opened up another small portal and fished out a saxophone. "This wouldn't fit in your average clutch, would it?"

Angel

Angel snorted. Of all the nefarious uses he could've been seeing of his power, he had to witness the storage unit. " Ahh I getcha I getcha ~ " he said as he pulled a pistol from his fluff and fussed with the magazine, " It ain't no entire fuckin', _dimension,_ but pretty damn close. I can fit a _lotta_ shit in 'ere ~ Once shoplifted an entire Christmas dinner! " He then put it away and looked at the portal, a curiously conniving smile stretching his face. Without much thought, he picked up the head, gave it a toss, and dropped to peer into the portal like a wishing well. " ... _Oh shit, it's actually GONE!_ " he exclaimed, eyes sparkling in amusement before his experiment.

Alastor

"Really! Just in your fur, or is there some sort of magic—Wait *don't—*!"

He tried to seal up the portal. It was slightly too slow to keep the head from falling in. He stared aghast at the point where the portal had been, then glowered at Angel. "You don't see me chucking half-thawed meat into *your* wardrobe!" He opened a smaller portal again on Angel's vanity, leaned over to peer in, then played an annoyed buzz as he sealed up the portal and opened a new one in midair just above eye-level so he could reach up into it from below. "If I have to take everything out to clean it, you're helping."

Angel

" I like ta call it _AbracaBIMBO-!_ " The spider erupted into a flurry of giggles and raspberries, arms clasping his stomach as he rolled on the ground. " I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wasn't thinkin'! I just! 'AD TA TRY IT! " Swiping his tears, he looked up into the portal and sprung up. " Wait, that leads t' ya closet?? I'LL GET IT! " Angel then shoved his head and primary arms into the space and began fishing for leverage to pull himself through.

Alastor

Alastor grabbed Angel's shoulders to jerk his head down out of the portal, but the portal wasn't quite high enough and Alastor wasn't quite tall enough to keep Angel's arms out of it. "Either you remove your arms now, or I fish them out in an hour so the doctors can try to reattach them to your stumps. Your choice." The portal narrowed threateningly.

Angel

" What's the big _secret_? " he echoed into the void before popping his head out, " Ya said you'd make me help ya _clean!_ What's the big idea wit' not lettin' me sneak a peek _now ~ ?_ " Angel almost whined. Singular ( and he presumed inadvertently _punk_ ) as the Radio Demon's fashion sense _seemed_ to be, if he kept a skirt in there, the curiosity surrounding whatever else he could he stowing into an endless void all but _killed him._

Alastor

"And if you tell an acquaintance he'll help you clean your room, does that mean you'll hand him items and tell him where to put them, or does it mean you'll give him *carte blanche* to pull open all your drawers and paw around in them?" The portal sealed shut and reappeared on the other side of the room; the lights dimmed briefly as Alastor called up one of his shadows to dig around for the head instead. Apparently it wasn't safe to keep it within arm's reach (or throwing distance) of Angel.

Angel

" _Cart lunch-?_ " His brow tweaked but his eyes rolled shortly after. He's got to be the cagiest person he ever met. " Alright, alright, _jeeze,_ " he groaned as he folded both sets of arms, " So if I get outta the _Acquaintance Zone, **then**_ could I see ya closet? " Angel posed the question with air quotes, resigning himself to the fact that he'd either have to start controlling his second nature assholery, or make apologizing to him a habit. Neither sounded fun, but the latter sounded painful. Much _more_ painful.

Alastor

"*Carte blanche.* Permission." Alastor considered the question for a long moment. "No."

The shadow pulled out the head. With a gesture from Alastor, it threw it down on the bed. "What did it land on?"

The shadow half pulled out a wire laundry basket full of books (which now also contained the face wipes). Several disembodied voices muttered disapproval as Alastor facepalmed.

And then immediately un-facepalmed to make sure he hadn't smeared any makeup on his glove.

Angel

Narrowed eyes and pursed pout, Angel merely watched the head land. It wouldn't have been the grossest thing on his sheets. He'd start caring again if Fat Nuggets woke up and started nosing it.

" What? I get blood on ya diaries? " he teased, " Ya got a whole fuckin' secret dimension in there. Why don'tcha keep books in a, _I dunno, **bookshelf**_ instead a a _laundry basket?_ "

He was one to talk, having repurposed every possible thing in his room as a hanger.

Alastor

Alastor gestured demonstratively at the shadow, which pulled the top book out of the basket: a massive tome bound in black hide, held closed with three locks, and sporting an eyeball on the cover that looked alarming like one of Alastor's. The eyeball blinked and rolled around until it fixed on Alastor and Angel. "*Yes,* actually." Alastor gesture dismissively; the shadow dropped the book in the basket again and shoved it back into its separate dimension. "Because bookcases are harder to haul in and out of a small portal than baskets and boxes."

Angel

Angel blinked intermittently. He was running out of feet to eat. " ... Took ya mo'e fa a talker than a writer, " he commented dryly, eyes gluing to the floor as he pondered just how much of a _jerk_ he could be even when he wasn't actively _trying._ He drummed his fingers over his arm. _Questions, apologies, questions, apologies._ He was beginning to tire _himself_ out as he spaced and spiraled into his lack of grace. He couldn't hear a thing for a hot second.

Alastor

"I am. But talk is temporary, and some things need to be recorded. Recipes, rituals, messages..." Had Alastor managed to shame Angel? Give him a moment to bask in the awkwardness. Ah yes, this was where he was at home: making people uncomfortable.

Then he broke the silence. "Lucky for you, that particular book happened to be the only one in the basket that *likes* blood."

Angel

" ... 'Scuse th' FUCK outta me: _what?_ " He was conflicted as to whether he was more relieved or _disturbed._ Now his brain isn't going to be able to rid itself of the thought of certain inanimate objects _also_ enjoying his pain for a good while. " Ya feed ya feelin's _blood?_ " A second too late he realized he was stating the obvious.

Alastor

"Not *often,* no; but it helps keep its skin supple and rejuvenates some of the wards running inside." He shrugged, like this was a totally normal and not at all weird thing to say about a book.

Angel

" Wa'ds like- _oh,_ " he pieced. Literal bloodbaths in the spa were no secret. That much made sense to him. " So, uh... welcome? " Angel smacked on a wide, hopeful grin that left his eyes.

Alastor

"Ha! No, you're not winning points for this. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't leaking and didn't land on something more delicate." He gestured toward the door. "Now, before we have any more mishaps?"

Angel

" Ya can't blame _me,_ ya walkin' _Funhouse a' Horrors,_ " he scoffed with a strut towards the door. He opened it with a deep flourish, completely forgetting about the rotting head in his bed. " Afte' you. "

Alastor

"I can, I should, and I will."

Was Angel just going to leave that there? Well, if he'd forgotten about it, far be it for Alastor to remind him. He swept out the door past Angel, pulling his belle voice on again to say, "Such a gentleman!"

Angel

Chuckling, Angel canted his head to watch the demon walk out before turning back to his room.

" Be good, Nuggsie! I'll feed ya afte'- _oh fuck._ "

With about the same amount of thought as before, Angel swept the head out the window with a calculated rond de jambe before taking after Alastor.

Alastor

And off to get his hard-earned sausage.

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

It Takes Two Part 1

Requested by @verdonafrost (I know it doesn’t seem like what you asked for, but it’ll get there, I promise!)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Female!Reader

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Reader, Alfred Pennyworth, Original characters

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Drug deals, arguments, discussion of death, minor violence, threats of assault

Summary: Nearly a year ago you accepted the offer to work with Batman, to train under him, learn from him, be his partner. Yet when a seemingly normal drug bust on Christmas Eve brings memories back from the past, you find that partnership tested to its limits.

Part 1 of 6

Part 2 Part 3

A solid fist to your jaw sent you stumbling backward but failed in its job to knock you down. You grabbed the wrist, moving as you twisted the arm. The other fist came up, aiming at your stomach. You blocked it, using the momentum to swing yourself around, legs hooked around your attacker’s neck, and jerked them to the ground. 

You rolled immediately back to your feet, grinning, believing you'd won. 

A foot swept your legs out from under you then came up with the other, delivering a hard kick to your middle that sent you flying backward. 

You hit the floor hard, the breath knocked out of you. Your attacker was on you in a second, gun pointed at your forehead. 

"Bang. Dead," they growled. "Never presume victory."

You lay panting, glaring up at Bruce. "Got it," you said, batting the hand that was holding the fake gun away. Bruce didn't move though, remaining where he was, keeping you pinned to the training mat. "I'd like to see a crook get up from that beating though."

"Maybe most won't, but there are some out there a lot more dangerous that won't hesitate to kill you." Bruce finally moved, knee leaving your stomach to let you actually catch your breath. He tossed the gun to the side and offered out a hand. 

You refused it, pulling yourself back to your feet instead. “Good thing I have a partner to watch my back then."

Bruce hummed, frowning. He did that a lot. "I wouldn't say partners. You haven't fully earned that mask yet."

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you went to grab the water bottle instead. You'd been training with Bruce for months now, and still, he treated you like a child more often than not. Occasionally you regretted your decision to take him up on his offer to take you under his wing and train you properly, thinking that maybe it would've been better to just continue by yourself. But even though he was as tough as it got, the training had made you a better vigilante, and the new kevlar suit he'd had made for you was definitely an improvement. Both design and safety-wise. Plus it was just easier to work with the Batman than against him. You'd learned that the hard way. 

"So what now? Another round?" 

Bruce nodded as he picked up the fake gun again and took his position in the center of the mat. 

You were just about to join him when Alfred appeared in the room. "Sir, the Batsignal."

Bruce dropped the gun and looked at you, "Suit up."

~

You landed silently on the roof behind Bruce, your cape billowing gently behind you. You'd been doubtful when he'd first suggested one, but you'd come to like the steady warmth of it on your shoulders especially in Gotham's harsh winter. 

Gordon was on the other side of the roof, back facing the both of you as he looked out over Gotham. 

"Gordon," Bruce greeted, voice coming out deep and gravely due to the voice modulator. 

"Jesus!" He cursed jumping and turning around. "D'you think one day you could do that without giving me a heart attack?!" 

Bruce said nothing, just walked forward into the light more with you shadowing him. "What is it?"

"Straight to the point it is then,"  Gordon muttered, glancing over Bruce's shoulder at you and nodding in greeting. He flicked the rest of his cigarette to the ground, letting it fizzle out in the snow. "We just got a tip that there's a drug deal going down at the docks tonight. I'd have sent some of my guys but what with the holiday we're already understaffed."

Bruce nodded, "We'll deal with it."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Bruce turned, giving you a look that meant follow, and jumped off the edge of the building. 

~

The tip-off was accurate. The warehouse Gordon had sent you too was crawling with armed goons patrolling the perimeter. 

"How did we not catch wind of this?" You whispered from where you were perched in the shadows next to Bruce. 

"We'll figure that out later. First, we stop it. Surveillance shows fifteen men outside, and another ten inside. I'll take the North-East, you the South-West and meet on the roof."

You nodded, "Got it."

The goons didn't stand a chance. Not one noticed you swoop in and take them down one by one quick and quiet. Not a peep came from Bruce's area either, not that you'd expected him to be spotted. 

You grappled to the roof, landing silently a second before Bruce, boots crunching softly in the undisturbed snow. You exchanged a look and Bruce motioned to a small panel. A vent. He made quick work of getting it loose, and you followed him, dropping down and keeping your footsteps soft against the metal as you landed. Bruce had already undone the cover on the inside and crept out onto the rafters. Joining him, you found a vantage point to spy on the people below. 

"Boss said to flog the green stuff first, keep the prices low 'til the kids get hooked, then sell 'em the blue pills. Better high, better price." One man said, talking to the others surrounding him.

"What's the deal when they can't pay?" 

"Tell 'em they owe you a favor. Boss'll call it in soon enough."

Your hand balled into a fist on instinct at the conversation. Selling drugs to kids was bad enough, but you also knew that the 'favors' owed would likely end badly, that the poor kid in debt would be more than expendable. 

Glancing over at Bruce, he was still looking down, observing. The moment they started to distribute the drugs, he pounced. 

The smoke grenade landed smack in the middle, with both of you following immediately behind it. The first time you'd tried to fight in the smoke it had ended with Bruce taking you down immediately, but now you moved through the dense cloud with practiced ease, finding your targets and eliminating them from the fight. 

Despite Bruce's insistence that you weren't partners yet, the two of you worked together near flawlessly. You were in-sync, knowing what the other was going to do before they did it. One tried to swing at you as you were fighting another, flailing near blind in the smoke but still coming close enough to land the hit. You swerved to the right, and the attacker was instead met by Bruce’s fist in his face. Another attempted to lurch at Bruce with a knife. In a second the knife was clattering across the concrete floor, and the crack of a bone-breaking filled the air. 

The smoke began to clear and in the corner of your eye, you saw a masked goon grab a gun and aim it at Bruce. Without even needing to think, you threw one of your batarangs, the metal slicing through the air until it embedded itself in the man’s hand before he could even get his finger on the trigger. The gun dropped to the floor and you kicked it to one side before taking him down.

Straightening out, you looked around. Only the two of you were left standing.

“Good work,” Bruce said, and you had to resist the urge of fake fainting. 

You simply nodded instead and turned to start securing the perps while Bruce contacted Gordon. It was a simple process until the sleeves of one of the crooks rose up exposing his wrist and the tattoo on it. 

The small symbol, a dagger through a rose, turned your blood to ice. It had been years since you'd last seen it, but the image was scarred into your memory forever. 

"I know who's behind this."

~

"Curt Roman? No, It's impossible."

You were standing in front of the Batcomputer with Bruce and Alfred, looking at several photos of a businessman. 

"Bruce, it's him."

"I know Curt, he's a friend. He's donated hundreds of thousands to Wayne Foundation programs."

"And no one who does good could possibly have a secret?" 

Bruce gave you a look. "He also has no criminal connections. Or a tattoo of a dagger through a rose."

"Of course he doesn't! He's being clever! Doesn't make him innocent!" 

"Certainly doesn't make him guilty!" Bruce turned to face you, arms crossed over his chest. "What evidence do you have?" 

"I don't have any. I just know it's him!" 

"Not good enough." The words came out in a growl, and it was tough not to wilt away under the intensity of the glare. There weren't many people who could staredown Batman, but you were damned sure you were going to be one of them. 

"It's. Him. Trust me."

"Give me proof and I'll consider it. Until then we're going to focus on what we actually know; that a gang baring this symbol is trying to flood the streets with drugs. Finding out who they are is more important than a wild goose chase."

"It's not-" 

"Enough! Go home, Y/N."

"You're benching me?!" 

"No. I'm giving you a chance to re-evaluate and come back with a clear head."

You wanted to argue. You were pissed and he was brushing you off. But he was also adamant, and arguing would be like talking to a brick wall. 

"Fine."

"Good. Be here tomorrow for patrol."

You turned and stalked your way to the back of the cave where you could change back into your civilian clothes in peace. So maybe you tossed the discarded pieces of armor to the floor a little harder than was necessary, you didn't really care. You hated that Bruce didn't believe you, thinking that by now you'd at least earned some trust. And it wasn't like he never went on gut instinct. He often followed it until he found tangible evidence. But it seemed he valued his rich friend over your thoughts. 

You looked down at the suit once you were done, and started to pick it up. You were mad at Bruce, not Alfred, and you weren't going to let him clean up your mess. 

Like he knew you were thinking about him, Alfred appeared, hands clasped behind his back. "Are you okay, Miss Y/N? Master Bruce can be a bit too brusque sometimes."

Chuckling softly, you nodded. "I'm fine, Alfred, it's nothing I've not handled before."

"He can be quite protective of his friends."

You decided not to say how you thought you were his friend too. 

"So it seems." Busying yourself with putting the suit back in its case properly, you hoped Alfred would drop the subject. 

Thankfully, he did. "Before you leave, are you sure you don't wish to join us for Christmas lunch? There will be more than enough, and as they say, the more the merrier."

"They also say three's a crowd." Facing Alfred again you smiled. "Thank you, I appreciate the offer, really, but I do have plans."

Alfred watched you a moment, looking to see if you were telling the truth no doubt, and for a second you could've sworn he looked disappointed when he saw you were. "In that case, take this." He brought his hands forward, showing you the wrapped gift he'd had hidden behind him. "It's from both of us."

Meaning it was from Alfred, but Bruce had forgotten. 

You took the gift, feeling the weight of it in your hands. It had give to it, so probably a sweater or some other item of clothing. Whatever it was, you had no doubt that it would be gorgeous. You slipped the item into your bag carefully, and kissed Alfred's cheek, feeling him smile. "I've left gifts for you and Bruce under the tree."

"Quite stealthy of you, miss. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Alfred."

~

The present was a sweater. A deep red cable-knit sweater that was almost too soft to be real. It was beautiful and warm and comfy, and Alfred definitely knew you well. 

You wore it to lunch, laughing when the young girl that launched herself at you at the door commented on how soft it was. 

"Wow, Wayne really goes all out for his employees, huh?" Chloe, the girl's mom said, hugging you in return. 

"Not like he can't afford it." It wasn't a lie really. You had started to work for Bruce since you'd started 'working' with him, and he was a good enough boss to make sure everyone received a nice gift. Just maybe not that nice. 

"True enough."  She laughed, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

"Aunt Y/N! Come see what Santa brought me!" Mollie tugged at your hand, pulling you away from Chloe and over to the tree where a pile of presents sat. She started showing you each one, going on about it excitedly and making you look every individual item over before moving to the next one. 

Glancing over your shoulder, Chloe was watching you both. She mouthed a 'thank you' and you smiled. You'd do anything for either of them. Including making sure Mollie had the best Christmas possible. 

You helped Chloe make lunch while Mollie played and watched some dumb Christmas movie, and for a couple of hours, everything was perfect. Until you'd just finished clearing up and there was a knock on the door. 

Mollie ran to answer. "Hell-ah!" Her yell had you spinning away from the sink, blood running cold as four masked men barged into the apartment. One had Mollie in his arms, pistol aimed at her head. 

"Stay calm and no one gets it." Another said while the two remaining crooks aimed their guns at you and Chloe. 

"Mommy!" 

"Shut up!" The man holding her growled, pressing the barrel firmer to her temple. 

The first one to speak and one of the others started grabbing everything and shoving it into bags, the fourth keeping you and Chloe trapped in the kitchenette with his gun trained on you. 

"These two're pretty, boss. Whatcha say abou' lettin' us 'ave a little Christmas treat?" 

Chloe shuddered next to you, sniffing quietly. 

"Don't see why not. We can spare a few minutes."

Like hell that was going to happen. 

You glanced down at the counter, weighing up your options. If you were suited it'd be easier to mount an attack, but as it was there was next to nothing separating you from their bullets. 

There was a knife in the dish rack to your left, sharp enough to do some damage. To your right were some ingredients that had yet to be put away. Flour. It could cause enough distraction. 

With one hand you pushed Chloe to the floor in the same instant as you tossed the knife across the room. It hit the guy holding Mollie square on the hand gripping the gun. He yelled, the gun dropping and his grasp on Mollie loosening. The girl reacted, jerking herself loose and dropping to the floor. 

There was no time to make sure she was hidden. You grabbed the flour, tossing it over the man in front of you before he even knew what was happening. You caught the gun, wrenching it from him and tossing it aside. Using his body and the momentum, you shoved him forward, barging him into the other two. 

A gunshot rang out, the bullet flying past your ear. You pushed the one you were holding hard against another, letting him go in favor of taking down the last one steady on his feet. Another shot and you felt the pain in your leg. A quick glance down saw blood on your thigh. Just a graze it seemed. 

You moved again, disarming the one with the gun, a swift blow to the head with the butt of it knocking him down. The third went down seconds later. The only one left conscious was the one who'd grabbed Mollie. He was on his knees, knife still through his hand apparently not even taking notice of everything else. 

Not taking the chance, you jumped over the table, and in a moment he was slumped on the floor with his associates. 

You stood over him, panting. Sirens could already be heard in the distance, getting closer rapidly. You turned, facing back to the inside of the apartment. Your eyes landed on Mollie, hiding under the table. You opened your arms and she came bolting out, all but jumping into your arms as she clung to you. 

"It's okay," you whispered, "Are you hurt?" 

She shook her head and you sighed in relief. "Good girl. You're safe now." Another set of arms wrapped around you. Chloe. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Y/N…thank you."

"I promised I'd look out for you, and I meant it."

Footsteps were approaching rapidly, and the three of you were still hugging when the police burst in, guns drawn. 

This was going to be interesting to explain. 

~

"Miss Y/N, are you alright?" Alfred asked the moment you stepped foot in the cave. 

You shouldn't have been surprised, but you'd still hoped to avoid the conversation immediately. You smiled and nodded, "It was just a scratch. I've had worse."

"You were lucky," Bruce spoke from his seat at the computer, already suited up. "And foolish."

Biting back a sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest. "I suppose you would've done differently?" 

"I wouldn't have risked too many questions being asked by showing off."

"No one asked too many questions. They barely even asked any questions at all. You seem to forget that I'm from a part of town where it's perfectly common for people to know how to scrap."

"Oh, so you come across regular citizens disarming four armed robbers often, then?" 

"Not unheard of." Not wanting to argue anymore, you turned and walked away, heading to get changed and ready to go out. 

The two of you went your own separate ways on patrol, sticking to your designated areas, and only communicated when necessary over the coms. Bruce thankfully kept any further comments to himself, only speaking when necessary for the job. 

It was a surprisingly quiet night. You'd expected worse since half the police force was off with their families. It seemed even the crooks wanted to take Christmas off. 

You got back to the cave tired and cold, but not entirely unhappy. Being out in Gotham at night was surprisingly relaxing, especially when it was quieter. 

"We need to talk." There went your good mood. 

"About?" 

"Today. If anything like that ever happens again, wait it out."

"So I was supposed to just stand by and watch as they robbed the place?!" 

"We could've tracked them down tonight."

"Yeah, that would've been real easy. Track down four amateurs who just picked the joint at random. Come on, Bruce, we both know that would've been a needle in a haystack!" 

"It would still be a better option than risking yourself!" 

"It's exactly what you would've done in that situation!" 

"I'd have kept my head, and not needlessly risked my own safety if there was no risk of any harm actually happening."

You scoffed, shaking your head. Liar. "They had a gun to a child's head! I don't care if they weren't planning on shooting, the threat was enough!" 

Bruce's jaw clenched. Apparently, he didn't know that. "You could've been killed."

"Worse things would've happened if I hadn't risked it." Bruce frowned, clearly not understanding. "They weren't planning on just leaving once they got the goods. They were going to stay for a little Christmas treat." 

Now he got it. 

"So don't stand there and tell me how I should've waited it out! For once get off your god damned high horse, and stop acting like I don't know what I'm doing! I know, Bruce. I know I could've been hurt or killed, that it was dangerous. Trust me, it wasn't my ideal way to spend Christmas day either. But I'm not apologizing for it. I'm not going to say sorry for protecting an innocent woman and her child, even if it had ended with me going down!" 

"Y/N-"

"I'm going home. I've had enough of being treated like a child for one night." Turning sharply, you stomped away, not failing to notice how the night had ended this way twice in a row now. 

You did love working with Bruce. Hell, you were fond of him in general, but he was infuriating recently. Maybe the two of you were just incompatible as a team. You wanted equal footing, but it always seemed that Bruce wanted someone to give orders to. And it wasn't like you weren't fine with listening to him. He had the experience. But when it came to the point that he was trying to order you about for every little thing? That was too much. 

You were midway through stripping when you heard the footsteps approach the secluded changing area. They were too heavy to be Alfred's, and much louder than Bruce usually was, which meant he was purposely giving you a heads up. 

You didn't stop. You'd been semi-nude around each other enough times over the last few months that it had long stopped being an issue. You finished taking off the outer suit and started removing the thinner layer underneath until you were down to the shorts and vest. 

"Does it hurt?" 

You glanced down at the bandage around your thigh. It had been hours since you'd taken pain meds. "It's fine."

Bruce moved to stand next to you, starting to pull off his own armor. "Are you okay? In general."

"I'm fine." You moved away from him, tugging your jeans and sweater back on. 

"If you keep saying that, it might start sounding believable."

"Didn't think you cared much either way."

There was a long pause, and yeah, maybe that was a bit of a low blow. "Of course I care, Y/N." His voice was soft enough that you were almost inclined to believe him. "What we do is dangerous, and I don't want to see you get hurt unnecessarily. But you were right in what you did today. It is what I would've done."

That was probably as close to an apology as you were going to get. "I don't need you to babysit me, Bruce." You sat heavily on one of the benches lining the wall and looked at him. "I've been through more than even you know, more out of the mask than under it."

Bruce pulled a t-shirt over his head and frowned as he walked his way over to sit next to you. "Y/N-" 

You shook your head, "I'm tired, Bruce. I don't want to argue anymore."

"I don't want to argue. I was just going to ask if you were okay again."

Oh. "Yeah," you sighed, "It's just been a day."

Bruce nodded, "Are they alright? The others?" 

"Terrified, but not hurt. Wanted me to stay with them tonight, but I put them up in my place for the night instead." You'd been looking down at your hands, but glanced up at Bruce as you smiled, "They also kinda hate you now. I told them you had me working."

Bruce chuckled, "Thanks." He fell quiet and you didn't have the energy to muster up any small talk either. You were about to get up and leave when he spoke again. "Who are they? I saw the names on the report, and I know they aren't family."

"It's…complicated. I promised someone once that I'd look out for them."

"Someone who isn't around anymore I take it?" 

"Yeah."

"You were close."

"Something like that."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

"With some things, it doesn't matter how much time passes, it continues to hurt."

"Yeah."

"What happened?" 

"It's a long story."

"I've got nothing better to do."

"Would've thought Bruce Wayne would be busy making the most of what's rest of his Christmas night. There must be parties going on still."

"Great. Rooms teeming with people who've had too much to drink and no longer know about personal space. My favorite."

“So you’d rather be here and share feelings? It’s a Christmas Miracle!”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I am. Surprisingly, I didn’t learn that from you.”

“Okay, so I’m not the best sharer. That doesn’t mean you should practice the same habits. I’m here to listen, Y/N.”

You sighed, fingers playing with the hem of your sweater as you debated just getting up and leaving anyway. That’s what a part of you wanted. But the other part wanted to open up. And Bruce was probably the only person you could trust enough to do so. If you got lucky it might even change his opinion on some things.

“His name was Dean. Grew up together. Same building. Same classes. Spent as much time in the other’s apartment as we did our own. Best friends. First dance. First date. First kiss.”

“First love?”

“First love. We didn’t exactly have it easy, but we were doing good for ourselves. Got into college and everything, and that was pretty rare for kids like us back then. There was an old warehouse nearby, abandoned. We used to sneak in and hang out there. About the only time, we actually got some peace and quiet for ourselves. We could stay there for hours, just sitting and...being with each other. No talk, no pretense. Just us. The night we found out we’d gotten into college, we went. It was late. Closer to the next day really. Didn’t matter. Not to us. I don’t know how long we sat there. We talked about dreams, the future, our future, everything two hopeful kids could talk about. It was perfect.”

Pausing a moment, you closed your eyes. “Then men came in. Six men. We were near the back so they didn’t see us immediately, and too busy making sure it was clear outside to notice us scrabble to hide. There were some beams in there, old, surprising they were still standing. We managed to hide behind them. One each. I thought maybe at first they were the owners of the place. Maybe someone had bought it and was checking it out, or something. But then they started to talk, and it was clear that if they did own it, they weren’t planning on doing anything legal.”

“Drugs mostly. How and where they were going to distribute it, you know the deal. We’ve heard it enough times. But one of them went on about something else. About leaving the country for a few years. He was their boss by the sounds of it, and he said that if he wasn't around suspicion would lay off him and that was what he wanted. It…was terrifying. We knew this shit was going on, but to actually listen to plans being made? We were out of our depth. I remember thinking that we just had to keep calm. Hide and wait it out then run and try and decide what to do. So simple in theory."

"Dean must've been leaning on the beam or something, I don't really know. But it creaked. Loudly. Or it seemed loud. They were on alert in a second. They found him. Dragged him out. I don't know how they didn't see me."

"They beat him. He told them what he heard, swore he'd never utter a word, but they beat him anyway. Couldn't really see much from where I was, but I could hear the hits, hear him cry. And then…then the boss ordered another to shoot Dean. Kill him. Said they couldn't risk him going to the cops. I couldn't see Dean, but I saw the gun. I watched it fire and I heard him drop. And they just left him there. They left him and walked out. Said no one would give a shit."

"I ran to him as soon as they were gone. He was still alive. Barely. His shirt was soaked and he was bleeding so fast. I didn't know what to do. He was scared. Knew he was dying. And he asked me to take care of his sister. I told him I wouldn't need to, that he'd be there, but he made me swear. Made me swear that I would and I did. He told me to go then. To get out before the cops showed up to investigate the gunshot."

"And I did. I ran. And I didn't stop running until I was home and locked away and scrubbing the blood off my hands until it hurt. I left him to die. Alone. Because I was scared. What's worse is that I let them get away with it because I was scared. Because I was too much of a coward to say anything. I let the cops brush it off, say Dean just got in with the wrong crowd, and drop the investigation. I just…made sure his sister was okay. Made sure his niece was okay. And…never said a word to anyone. Until now."

You stopped, taking a shuddering breath. Your leg was trembling, knee bouncing, your hands balled into fists so tightly your nails were close to breaking the skin of your palm. Bruce was quiet, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him and see what he was thinking. He was probably getting ready to tell you how you should've been braver. How you should've stopped them or helped the police, or done something other than run and hide. 

Then his hand was taking yours, prying your fingers so he could slip his own under them. "You weren't a coward."

"I ran. Pretty sure that makes me a coward."

"It makes you smart. You were a kid, Y/N. A kid with no training. If you'd tried to do anything they would've killed you. And going to the cops with accusations like that would've gotten you killed too. You did what you had to to survive, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Thank you." It didn't particularly change the guilt, but finally telling someone did feel like a relief, and Bruce saying you were right did mean a lot. 

"Of course. Do you have any idea who they were? If they're still around? We can take them down." 

You hesitated and nodded. "Yeah, I have an idea. The man with the gun. I saw his wrist. He had a tattoo." You met Bruce's eyes. "Of a dagger stabbing a rose."

"That's how you knew them. What else?" 

"Not much. It wasn't much to go on, so I left it alone. For years. Just focused on Chloe and Mollie. Then one day, a couple of years ago, I was doing some laundry, had the TV on in the background. Some announcement for a new charity in Gotham. I was only half listening. The founder came on to give a speech. The moment he spoke…I was back in that warehouse all over again. It was exactly the same. It was him. The one who gave the order. The one who disappeared. The one who was now back."

"Y/N, are you saying… "

"It was Curt Roman, Bruce. He was the one giving orders in the warehouse."

Bruce looked surprisingly shocked. "You're sure? It was years…"

"I heard that voice in my dreams every night for years. I'm sure. And I looked into it. He left for Europe days after."

"This is why you started doing this."

"Yeah. I had…some more to go on, and I…I just couldn't let him get away with it again."

Bruce nodded but was silent. You thought maybe he was going to insist you were wrong. That it must be someone else. The trauma of the night must've messed with your memory. He'd be wrong, of course, but you weren't prepared to argue the point anymore. If he wouldn't believe you, you'd take Roman down by yourself one way or another. 

"Then let's get him. Together."

That you weren't expecting. "You believe me?" 

"I do. If you say he was there, that he's involved, then he is."

You smiled. Bruce returned it. "Thank you, Bruce."

"We're going to bring him to justice, Y/N. I promise."

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! (I’ll love you forever!)

Tagging: @medicatemedrmccoy @thefanficfaerie @bkwrm523 @theweepingvulcan91 @wonhos-world @sagyunaro @verdonafrost @huntersstuff591 @notsohappysunflower @quoththe-raven @startrekstartrash @thatanonymouschocolate @malaanii @bookcaseninja

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[girls-scenarios]

Let’s Ride

Idol: Soyeon ((G)I-dle)

Prompt: Soyeon’s only soft spot was for you, her girlfriend. Biker Gang!AU

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: So this recent comeback has me crushing on these girls hard. Who said they could be this cool? Anyway, this wasn’t requested, but I wanted to write something for Soyeon and this popped into my head so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Cursing, minor violence, mentions of blood, drinking

♡ Tip Jar♡

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” The sun was bright, burning down onto the pavement as a blonde-haired woman sneered down at the man cowering under her boot. Behind her, five girls dressed in leather gear stood beside their bikes, daring anyone to come any closer with their hands in their pockets and their eyes narrowed to the glaring sun. Sand mixed with the dry air whipped up as a car flew past on the nearby highway, but none of the girls even flinched, shoulders back and chins up. “Do you want me to cut out your tongue?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”

“You’re damn right, you didn’t know.” The woman kicked, sending the man flying backwards. The bare skin of his arm almost sizzled against the heated pavement, and he let out a hiss of pain as the woman stalked closer. “That’s not an excuse, though. You expect me to let you off the hook just because you didn’t know who she was?” Again, she kicked, making contact with his jaw. A sickening crack echoed through the parking lot, and the man on the floor let out a howl of pain. “This is how I treat men like you. Men who don’t know not to fuck with women.”

“Soyeon! Soyeon, that’s enough! You’re going to seriously hurt him!” A voice rang out from behind one of the girls, and the blonde woman turned around, wrinkling her nose as you moved away from Soojin’s protective hand, eyes wide. “You’ve made your point, let’s just go.”

“But he disrespected you. He touched you. He would have done worse had I not been here.” Soyeon turned to spit down at the man on the ground. “He deserves worse than this.”

“Soyeon. Love, please. I don’t need you killing anyone for me.”

With a huff, she turned around to kick at the man’s body one last time before pulling her keys from her pocket. “Fine. Consider this a warning, you motherfucker. Do something like this again and they won’t find your body.” Then, turning her back to him, she marched back to the wall of motorcycles and took her helmet from Minnie’s tattooed arms before turning to look at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You smiled at her and picked up your own helmet from the back of her bike, leaning in to kiss her cheek as she stopped in front of you. “I’m okay, because of you. Let’s get going, now. I want to go home.”

Those words were all she needed to hear, and she turned to her gang with a smirk, lifting her helmet up to her head. The desert shined in the sun out in front of them, and the highway seemed to be calling their name as they followed her lead, suiting up for the long trip ahead. “Ladies? Let’s ride.”

-

Riding was thrilling. That was how you’d fallen for Soyeon in the first place: sitting on the back of her motorcycle, clutching at her leather jacket with the wind flowing through your hair as the road whipped by. Something about the speed and the way you could feel every movement of the road underneath you on the bike was addicting, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away after that first ride. You didn’t ride yourself, but you could often be found perched behind Soyeon, enjoying the view from the back of the motorcycle as the gang moved from place to place. Your girlfriend had offered to teach you how to ride, or even to get you a bike of your own, but you always refused: you liked things the way they were. And you hoped they’d never change.

-

Home was a small house on the outskirts of town near the desert highway, surrounded by cacti and desert flowers that Shuhua had worked so hard to plant and care for. On the outside, the house was unassuming. Shuhua’s cute, desert-themed welcome sign kept outsiders on one side of the door, and the gang on the other, shielding them from the prying eyes of neighbors to do as they liked.

Inside was a different story. Miyeon and Soojin made sure the house stayed clean, for the most part, and Soyeon kept records of her favorite songs on the walls to give it a decorated feeling, but the inside of the house still betrayed the rough nature of the group. The furniture was all old and used, save for the recliner that Soojin stole from her ex’s house. There was no specific styling to the house: leather pieces mixed with ugly, stained cloth chairs that Miyeon covered with tattered blankets, and some of the girls just slept on mattresses on the floor, because it was easier that way. The TV was new (you had decided not to ask Soyeon where she got it) but the kitchen was old. It seemed like every day that Soyeon and Yuqi were down on the floor trying to fix the oven or fridge. The house was littered with things from every member, from Shuhua’s makeup collection and Yuqi’s school books to Miyeon’s violin and Soyeon’s old ballet shoes tucked in the closet. Your own things had been added in somewhere along the way, and the house looked a mess. But it also looked like found family and acceptance, and that was why you loved it. That was why it felt like home when you came in after a long ride and flopped down in the blanket-covered couch.

“I got so much dust in my mouth when we made that stop,” Minnie complained as everyone stepped inside, peeling off outer layers and rushing for the cool water bottles in the fridge. “I don’t think I’ll ever get it rinsed out.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. A little dust never hurt anyone,” Miyeon said in return, watching with curious eyes as you turned on the TV. “I wonder if that man reported us to the police?”

“He better not have, or he’ll pay.” Soyeon’s voice was so nonchalant as she said it, and you rolled your eyes, reaching out from the couch to pull her back by shirt.

“Oh, hush and sit with me. You get so riled up over things.”

“Only when it comes to you,” she said with a huff, but she sat down beside you and placed her head on your shoulder, making Soojin snort out a laugh.

“Sure,” she whispered, just loud enough for Soyeon to hear, making the other girl throw a towel at her, but it just made everyone laugh, missing her by a foot.

“Hey, hey! Stop fighting and tell me what’s for dinner! I’m starving,” Yuqi said, whining from the kitchen.

“Whatever you’re making,” Miyeon said in return, making the younger girl whine even louder.

“Meat. I want meat!”

Shuhua perked up at the table and brought her water bottle away from her mouth. “Same.”

“Count me in!”

“Minnie, act your age.”

“Nope. Never.”

“Who’s going to pay for this meat, now?”

You watched with a smile as the girls went back and forth, sounding like a real family. Everyone was so comfortable and happy around each other, and it made you feel good to be a part of it. It felt like home, and as Soyeon slipped her hand town to hold yours and Yuqi came running over to flop down on top of her, begging her to buy meat, you couldn’t help laughing, a swell of affection in your chest. There was no where else you’d rather be than here.

-

Sometimes at night, the bed dipped down on Soyeon’s side and she disappeared into the night. She never woke you up on these late-night runs, and you never asked where she went, just listening to the rumble of the bikes starting up outside your window with your eyes squeezed shut.

You knew what Soyeon was capable of. You knew what happened to Soojin’s ex. You knew what could be happening when they rode off into the dark night. But you didn’t want to pry (and you didn’t want to know for sure) so you just willed yourself to go back to sleep, hoping that Soyeon would come back unhurt.

-

“What did you do to yourself this time?”

“She got into a fight with a guy twice her size.”

“And won!”

“Yeah, but she got a nasty cut on her face from his broken bottle. I don’t know if I’d call that winning.”

“Ow! Ow, that hurts!”

At midnight, you’d been shocked awake by the sound of the girls yelling and had jumped out of bed, fearing the worst. Sure enough, Soyeon had been slumped in their arms, bleeding profusely from a cut on her face but with a drunk grin on her face that said she didn’t regret a thing. Now, you had Soojin and Minnie hold her down as you cleaned the wound, rolling your eyes at her whining and twitching.

“Maybe you should have thought of the pain before you jumped on a man twice your size, babe,” you said as you pulled away the soaked cotton swap and peered in at the cut. It wasn’t as deep as you’d thought it was, which meant it would probably heal right without stitches. Still, it wasn’t going to be healing any time soon, and you sighed as you pulled out the gauze and bandages from your first aid kit. “You’re going to be wearing a big bandage on your face for a while now. Hope you’re happy.”

“Shows how badass I am,” she drawled, and you glanced at Miyeon, who was teetering slightly but seemed much more sober than most of the group.

“How much did she drink tonight?”

“Not too much. I think she’s just drunk on her own hubris.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Yes, you are.” You pushed your girlfriend back against the couch and carefully held the bandage over the cut, wanting to get the placement right. “You’re going to ruin your beautiful face if you don’t cut it out.”

“I’m not beautiful, I’m badass!”

“Sure, sure.” Gently, you applied the bandage and let out another little sigh, sitting back to look at your work. “Just don’t take that off. I don’t want blood on my sheets.”

“‘Kay.”

“Off to bed, everyone. Your damage has been done.”

“Aw, but it’s only midnight,” Minnie whined, making you turn to her and cross your arms.

“Yes, but I’m not patching up any more accidents tonight. So go to bed and stay out of trouble.”

Yuqi groaned and leaned into Shuhua like your words were the worst thing she’d ever heard, but Soojin let go of Soyeon and stood up, clapping her hands. “You heard the boss’s wife. Off to bed.”

“We aren’t married,” you pointed out, but the girls ignored your words, chattering as they moved off towards the bedrooms. Groaning, you rubbed your head, sensing an oncoming headache as you turned back to your girlfriend on the couch. “Come on. We’re going to bed too.”

“Carry me.”

“No. You can get up on your own.” Despite your own words, you held out your hand to help her up, supporting her weight with your shoulder as she stood and leaned into you. She smelt of tequila (which explained a lot of things) and you wrinkled your nose as you led her to the bedroom the two of you shared. “God. How many shots did you have tonight?”

“Like. Four? Five? I dunno.”

“This is why you’re always getting yourself into trouble. You need to learn some self control.” As you approached the bed, you loosened your grip on her letting her flop down onto the bed on her own before you went back to close the door and turn out the lights. “Let’s get you out of those clothes. You can’t sleep in leather pants.”

“Watch me!”

“See? This is the attitude that gets you in trouble.” As you approached her, she pouted at you, sitting up to take off her shirt, and you wondered if anyone else had ever seen this side of Soyeon. Probably not, now that you thought about it. The thought made you chuckle to yourself as you helped her out of her pants. What would people think if they saw the rough and tough, fearless Soyeon pouting at her girlfriend?

“Are you mad at me?” Soyeon asked as she laid back down, and you shrugged, climbing into bed next to her.

“I’m mad that you got yourself hurt again.”

“Oh.” She turned to look at you, pouting once again, and you couldn’t resist the urge to reach over and tuck her short blonde hair behind her ear.

“You know I can’t stay mad at you. But I get worried when you hurt yourself like this, you know? What if one day you get yourself so hurt I can’t help you? That’s why I get mad at you.”

“Yeah.” Soyeon stayed quiet for a minute before reaching over to pull you into her arms. “I won’t do that. I promise I’ll always come back to you. Just wait for me, okay?”

With a smile, you held her back, enjoying her careful, gentle caress. This was the side of her that you loved the most. The side of her reserved just for these nights with you. And you knew that you could never leave her side. “I’ll always wait for you. Just stay alive for me.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, beautiful.”

Laughing at the nickname, you pulled away to give her a soft kiss. “Goodnight, babe. I love you.”

The smile she gave you when you pulled away made everything worth it. All the worrying, the fixing, the weird things you’d had to get used to. You’d ride with her to the end of the world to see that smile. And you knew she’d do the same for you.

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

[a-bear-at-hogwarts]

Mc Interview

Tagged by @phyl-the-gryffinclaw and @ravenclaw-craftsgirl !! Ty ^-^

----------

What’s your Name? ➔ “Like... my full name? Well I dinnae use it often but m’middle name’s Ursa Minor. Dahlia ‘Ursa minor’ Goldman. M’told my father picked it out.”

 Are you single? ➔ For a second the blank expression wavers, her eyes going a little wide as she just blinks. “I... I don’t think that’s relevant? But I guess...” She pauses, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Since fifth year or so, no.”

 Are you happy? ➔  “Happy or no, it’s not that important. I’m alive aren’t I?”

 Are you angry? ➔ She seems to withdraw a little, sitting back as though to move herself further away. Arms fold over her chest. “...yeah. I’ve got a lid on it though.”

 Are your parents still married? ➔ “Well. M’dad’s been dead for years now so I’d hazard a guess at no. Not like she ever remarried but...”

- NINE FACTS 

birthplace ➔ “Scotland. Family owned parcel of land, home birth.”

hair color ➔ “Really? Brown.”

eye color ➔ “Also brown. Green in... some lights I guess but it’s just brown.”

birthday ➔ “I dinnae get why this is such a big deal for folks but it’s the 22nd of December.”

mood ➔ She gestures to her face, which frankly doesn’t clarify anything. “Take a guess.”

gender ➔ “M’a girl.”

summer or winter ➔ “Ehhh... gotta pick winter here. Feelin drowsy all the time sucks sure, but the glittering and cold is just real nice. Summer’s just way too hot for me, always feel like crap.”

morning or afternoon ➔ “Morning. Early, EARLY morning. Before everyone else is awake yet, it’s nice feelin like the only person in the world. Just you and the sunrise...”

- EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE 

are you in love ➔ She presses her lips together, shifting a little; it’s a small tell but she seems uncomfortable. “I... don’t know. I think so. But I-” She cuts off, shaking her head. “Next question. Please.”

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “No. Attraction maybe, but appearance is deceiving. You can’t trust even the people you hold dearest, let alone a perfect stranger and I... I still don’t know if you can love without trust.”

who ended your last relationship ➔ “We both did. M’first lover wasn’t meant to last forever, we were both just kinda usin’ one another t’figure out what way was up when it came to loving. Eventually we just figured it wasn’t goin anywhere anymore and talked it out. Mad’s still close... aye, Mads. Maddy. I dinnae call her Madeline she’s no keen on it.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  She blinks again, brow furrowing. “Well I... no in terms of romantic love, no.”

are you afraid of commitments ➔ She seems uncomfortable again. Her ankles cross, leaning back again and folding her arms tighter. “Look. Trust’s hard aight? Lets just... move on.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Now at least she unwinds a little, taking a breath as a fond look flitters across her eyes. “Used to be I wouldn’t be able to tell ye the last time I hugged someone. I’m getting better with it. Sammy hugged me just the other day, Lau too... Jason still pretends to trick me into it by doin something reckless and waiting for me to scoop him up. They’ve been good for me.”

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ Now for the first time, a tint of colour crawls across her face as she fiddles with her fingers. “Well I uh... yeah actually. I thought they were just kinda... watching me train? But the kids kept gettin tongue tied and runnin off when I asked about it, all red faced. Took me a wee while to realise what was up with that.”

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ She breathes a quiet sigh, toying with her fingers again. “Aye. Aye I have. No I dinnae want to go into that, next question.”

- SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Ah Merlin... Lust hurts less, in the short run? Easier to deal with, get rid of if needs be, doesn’t control you nearly as much if you’re no an idiot...”

lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Lemonade. I’m no keen on tea I’ve a caffeine allergy.”

cats or dogs ➔ “Yes”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “I dinnae think I have anyone I could call a best friend? I let anyone in and they’d count most likely, I’m nae exactly the social type...”

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “I like a night in. Gotta plan for a night out, gotta have someone watching my back or I feel on edge all the time. Nice night in with one person, just talkin or watching something... nice, peaceful.”

day or night ➔ She wrinkles her nose, brow furrowing as she turns it over. “... I think I’d have to say night. Wouldn’t always have said so but now... aye. Night.”

- FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ She snorts briefly, shaking her head. “Sorry but- aye. Aye once or twice, not often but I’ve made foolish decisions. M’good at gettin away with it at least.”

fallen down/up the stairs ➔  “Ach... aye. Forgot it was winter and slid on stairs at some point of most winters I’ve weathered. Almost a tradition at this point.”

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Aye... aye I’d say so. Ironically usually I want like that when I need something to stop hurting.” A grim smile spreads across her face for a moment, before she shrugs. “Tad dramatic sorry, but aye, yeah.”

wanted to disappear ➔ The discomfort is back with a vengeance. Her jaw tenses and she seems to withdraw completely, an invisible wall rising that shuts her off completely. “Not your concern. Move on.”

- FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ “Eyes. Harder to lie with than your smile... admittedly from experience.”

shorter or taller ➔ She looks almost sheepish for a moment. “Admittedly... I’d like to be taller. I’m 6′5 last I checked, but I’m no actually that tall for my lot. Can thank my dad for that, he was 5′2 to the day he died.”

intelligence or attraction ➔ “Like... on myself?” Receiving no answer she assumes this is the case. “Intelligence. Pretty garners attention, I’m no too keen on that.”

hook-up or relationship ➔ Her brows furrow again as she considers it. “I think... now? I’d pick my current relationship over anything else like it.”

- FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ She’s tense now. It’s noticeable in every visible line of her body, though she takes a breath and tries to pull it out. “That’s a... complicated question. Most part aye. Sometimes... sometimes things fall apart in a big way. But that’s our business, no yours.”

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ The sharp bark of laughter seems to have been drawn unwillingly, bitter. Like boiling steam forced out by pressure. ”Ye could say that. Couldn’t we all?”

have you ever run away from home ➔ “Merlin, no. I... I used to sneak out. That’s not worked out for me. Dinnae have to anymore, ma’s... busy.”

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “No. Mam’s too protective to ever consider it.”

- FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “No? They wildnae be my friend if I did, and I dinnae hate many folk anyways.”

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “Aye. I’m not that sociable in the first place, the folks with me today understand an worked through that. Took time, and I’ll admit I got... real attached. They’ve been good for me too. Sammy, Lau, Jason ‘specially when it come to m’touch sensitivity. Talbott listens when I just need to talk, Corbyn understands a lot of the stuff I can’t explain well, Diego’s fun to goof with I just... I’m real lucky y’know?”

who is your best friend ➔ “Really couldn’t say, but I guess Talbott’s my closest confidant? Or Chiara... Rowan’s always gonna have a special place in my heart though. They read me years ago when I was still more closed off than a gringotts bank, and they took those steps that made all this... possible.”

who knows everything about you ➔ The ghost of a smile crosses her face. “Nobody. Not a soul in this world.”

-----

aaa idk who to tag but this was super fun!! if you wanna do it consider yourself tagged!!

[multi-fandom-nutjob]

How I’d tweak every Smash Character(Part I)

Hello, everyone! Cinnamon-Guardian here! I love Smash Bros to death, but not everything is perfect. I’ve been mulling over some ideas on how to tweak some characters to be better(or at least more accurate to their series of origin).

This won’t be super concerned with balancing, but tier list standings and how broken or whack certain moves are will be taken into consideration. This disclaimer is just me saying I am in no way claiming that I could do better than Sakurai or any of the other developers! This is purely to have fun and flex my creative muscles to try and get better at this sorta thing.

Mario

With Mario, I’m pretty happy with most of his tech, from his standard moves to his smash attacks and his neutral and recovery specials. The aspects of him that frustrate me the most are his down and side specials, both of whom I ultimately think could be better.

The Down Special works well in theory, pushing opponents back without any sort of hit-stun so that it won’t reset their recoveries any. The flaw I see is that it has no use beyond that. As such, I propose that Flud’s bursts do chip damage, akin to Fox’s blaster. That way, it can do very minor damage and still push opponents back without resetting their recoveries.

The Side Special, in contrast, works decently enough in practice but feels hallow in homage. The Cape Feather that it draws upon appeared only once in Super Mario World, a game that admittedly did exceedingly well, but also came out in 1990. When implemented, it works as a great reflector, but nothing more. As such, I propose it be replaced with the Luma Spin from the Super Mario Galaxy titles! The creators clearly know that there is a sizeable fandom for the dualogy, seeing as how Rosalina joined the roster. The Luma Spin could serve as a valuable reflector itself, but could also act as a secondary, more instantaneous smash attack that could even have some horizontal recovery to it akin to DK’s recovery. It could do all that the Cape Feather did and more with a more contemporary fandom!

Donkey Kong

Off the bat, I think something Donkey Kong needs more of is Speed. While he is the poster child for the slow and heavy characters at the bottom of the tier list, in the games where he is playable, he possesses ample agility.

The main means through which I would propose adding more speed is through a more refined dash attack. In the games, he could steamroll through enemies at ludicrous speeds. While I don’t think it needs to be as fast as Sonic or Captain Falcon, his dash attack could be a powerful roll attack that could boost him forward more.

Adding more onto his agility, I believe that his jumps should have much more of a vertical gain and have ample momentum to it. That way, when combined with his horizontally focused recovery, DK could regain his footing much better than most heavy characters. His special moves don’t need much, if any major alteration.

Link

I think Ultimate gave us the best Link we’ve seen to date, made incredibly distinct from the other two and given more weight than before. My thoughts ultimately fall on his grab and recovery.

In order to keep in line with Breath of the Wild, Link lost the hook-shot grab that he’s had since Smash debuted, severally nerfing his grappling prowess. To replace it, I would have altered it to be the Magnesium Powers you get early on. That way, Link can still have a long-range grab, but it could be slower and easier to break out of so that it’s not broken.

As for recovery, Link is still the same old Link, spinning ‘till he pukes. One thing that stood out in BotW, however, was the glider. If brought into Smash, it could effectively be the same as Peach and Daisy’s, with a sharp upward draft followed by a slow horizontally focused descent.

Samus

Samus has always been sort of the Black Sheep of the Original Roster, characterized by idling shooting inefficient projectiles from a corner. A far-cry from the ass-kicking bounty hunter we all know she is! In Ultimate, most of her competitive gameplay is centered around her charging dash attack and her grab, as if she were a football player.

How do we change that? By letting her move more, of course! As such, her neutral special will get a massive revamp, as it defaults to a pea-shooter mode that allows her to move about as she’s shooting, only having to stop for her side special, which itself will be upgraded to the ice rockets because if she can’t move, you can’t move either! The Charge Shot will only come out after you shoot and hold down the Special Move Button, making it practically the only chargeable move that you can freely move and charge simultaneously! The damage for the pea-shooter and charge shot will stay about the same, as anymore would break the game. Every other special move and her grab are all good, but since she’s so mobile, her charge attack will be replaced with a charge more akin to the energy charge she had in Super Metroid

Dark Samus

Okay, so, I don’t HATE hate echo fighters, but I do hate echo fighters who stick too close to the original’s gameplay. Dark Samus is pretty much on par with Daisy in that regard.

Off the bat, I think a slower but more powerful approach would suit her character better. It would also add to the tone of her gameplay more in my opinion.

The only big change I’d make to Specials are the Recovery and Down Special. The Screw Attack is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but it only really makes sense for Samus herself. As lame as it might sound, a massive boost in whatever direction she chooses, akin to Lucario, would fit Dark Samus better.

As for her Down Special, though, I have a more interesting idea. Dark Samus is made of Phazon, a sort of super energy. If she replaced the bombs with charging it up, it could heavily empower her Neutral Special(again like Lucario but more naturally than taking damage).

Yoshi

I kinda love him as he is. No real changes to be made honestly.

Kirby

Kirby is a character that frustrates me. His games have so much creativity with the premise of absorbing powers, but he only uses the Neutral Special of whoever absorbs him. But I do have an idea on how to change that!

Not only will he gain the Neutral Special of whoever he absorbs, but he will also gain “aspects” of that character. For example, if he absorbs Ganon, he becomes heavier and his moves have dark aura effects. If he absorbs Sonic, he and all of his moves becomes faster. If he absorbs Charizard, all of his moves have dire effects and his Side-Special gets a massive upgrade at the cost of damaging himself.

Fox

Okay, so, the thing that made Fox both legendary and infamous was how fundamentally broken he was as a character in Melee. Watching a pro-player use him was like watching a Shonen fight. At the risk of obliterating the tier list again, my goal now is to recapture that without breaking him too badly.

What Fox needs more of is consistent momentum. The main way to tweak this by reshaping the Side Special into something with more raw power but more need for precision. Being a dash attack of sorts, the main goal now is to make it both faster and more chargeable. When Fox crouches, it will charge until released, and it will go in the direction of the analogue stick akin to the recovery. This can be quicker than it is now if you release it quickly, however, though it will do marginally less damage. If running, it will default to the no-charge version for an instant strike for little damage.

This revision, however, would make the recovery seem obsolete in comparison, which is why the Recovery will default do more damage than even the max-charged side and go much further, almost being a smash attack in comparison. As such, we have a very fast and powerful Fox that can move in every direction.

How will it be balanced, then? Well, the Reflector will still be stationary, and most of his attacks will have reduced damage to ensure he doesn’t end every round before it starts.

Pikachu and Luigi

I don’t really have anything for either of these, besides the fact that I wish they have the same Final Smashes as Brawl.

Ness

Can I confess something? I hate Ness and Lucas. So much. I hate playing as either of them and I especially hate fighting either of them.

And you know what else? None of their special moves are canon! That’s right! All of the PK moves they use are from different characters! So my move would be to replace them with a far more accurate and less spam-ridden moveset. That is all. Fuck PK Fire.

Captain Falcon

Okay so, this is a Football Player that makes sense *cough, Samus, cough*. My main concern is that his side and down specials are too similar((much like another speedster)). While I don’t think taking the speed from the second fastest character in the game is at all fair, I think a set-up move for the Falcon Punch could work wonders.

As such, I think his Down Special should be replaced with a flaming kick spin tornado of sorts! That way he can juggle the opponent for some minor damage and set them up for a Falcon Punch that comes out too fast for them to dodge. Make for the best combo in the game honestly.

Jigglypuff

What is there to be done for a joke character? Well, Jigglypuff isn’t a joke character anymore! So a lot, actually!

Firstly, her neutral special should replace her side special. That side was a waste of a slap anyways. For her new neutral, however, it should be a Fairy Type move of some sort. My main choices as of now are “Dazzling Gleam” or “Play Rough.”

Dazzling Gleam is self-explanatory, essentially being a burst of energy in all directions, which is surprisingly rare in Smash(kind of like a weaker but further reaching version of her Down Special). Play Rough could tackle an opponent into a cloud of dirt as they cartoonishly fight until the opponent jumps out, doing combo damage overtime.

That’s all for tonight! I plan on doing more of these down the line, but I don’t have any sort of schedule for that and make no promises.

[rainoverthemountains]

Twist story chapter 17

Twistfell and everything associated with it belong to @itsladykit

Comments, likes, and reblogs continue to make me very happy, especially when I get to read how someone feels about the story or anything in it. Thank you!

Summary: There’s a cure for LV (probably). It’s completely safe (probably). It’s a highly unpleasant experience (definitely). Twist only cares about that first statement. He probably should have paid a little more attention to the other two. But what does it matter? He’s getting what he wants, and he has the best friends and family in any universe to help along the way.

chapter 1, chapter 16

Chapter 17

Twist wakes to the morning light gently creeping across the room. His sockets drift open to watch it, and he smiles as he sees it illuminating his little brother’s face. Blackberry has a book in his lap but is slumped over the arm of the chair, where he has fallen asleep. At least he didn’t stay up all night.

Not wanting to wake him but wanting a drink, Twist looks around for his water bottle. Ah hah! There it is on the nightstand. It’s almost within reach if he stretches. Just a little farther… No, too far.

Undeterred, he takes a moment to analyze the situation. He needs to get closer to the nightstand. Can he do that? He hasn’t moved much on his own since the treatment started a week ago. Trying usually doesn’t go too well, but everything just feels so good this morning. It must be possible. Besides, he sure can move when he’s panicking; just look at what he did last night actually don’t because this is a good morning and that would ruin it so he should be able to do it when he’s relaxed. He doesn’t even need to fling himself across the bed, just scoot a little closer to one side. Totally doable.

He’s lying flat on his back. The water bottle is maybe six inches from the farthest his left hand can reach. He’s feeling good this morning; well-rested, not freaking out about anything, nothing beyond minor aches in his soul and bones. It can’t be that hard to move six inches. Just scoot sideways, that seems easy enough.

It’s not. Who’d have thought so much coordination was involved in scooting across the bed? His first attempt moves his head in the direction he wants to go, but his shoulders stay firmly where they are. Why is this so hard? His bones barely hurt, but there’s just no strength in them and they’re not doing what he tells them. The next attempt gets him claw marks in his night stand where he tried to grab it to pull himself closer. No luck; his arms are not going to pull around his body weight. The third attempt knocks the breath out of him when he halfway succeeds at sitting up before being abruptly reminded that his arms won’t stand up against gravity, either. This isn’t working.

No closer to his destination, he glares at his target. It’s not that far. There’s no reason to wake Blackberry up to get something that’s barely a foot away. Groaning, he realizes that that’s farther away than when he started, which means all he’s managed to do is make the job harder. “Fuck”. Not a good start.

“‘m gonna getcha,” he mutters, refusing to be defeated by distance and gravity. Scooting isn’t working. “Ok, new plan.” Gathering all of his strength, he gets his right arm underneath him, braces it against the bed, and pushes. The strain of putting all of his weight on just a few joints draws a whimper from him, but slowly, the right side of his ribcage lifts from the bed and his lower body follows. Yes! It’s working!

No, shit, it worked too well! He flails to catch himself as he nearly rolls off the bed. The goal was to roll onto his side to give himself a better range of movement, not to land face down on the edge of the bed with one leg dangling over the side. Sighing into the pillow, he glances over at his still sleeping brother. Maybe this was a bad idea. He thought he was feeling better, but apparently it’s too much to even pick up a water bottle. Now Blackberry’s going to wake up and find him falling off the bed with his face trapped in a pillow. Great.

This is beyond frustrating. Never mind the pain and the memories, it’s the sheer helplessness that’s really getting to him. A week ago he could have gone toe to toe with almost any monster in the underground. Now he’s consistently losing fights against gravity. The water is right there! It’s within arm’s reach now, but how’s he supposed to reach out and take it? Shift around trying to grab it and fall out of bed again? That’s definitely what’s going to happen if he leans over any farther.

It’s pathetic, really, lying here waiting for his brother to come save him by rolling him back into bed. He knows he shouldn’t complain. Of course he shouldn’t. This is so much better than where he woke up yesterday morning. If he’d done this with Iggy, she probably would have tied the rest of him to the bed so he couldn’t keep causing these problems. Blackberry will just rescue him while gently chiding him about doing dangerous things like, like rolling over in his own fucking bed. While getting further convinced that Twist can’t be left alone for a single damn minute, of course.

“This is ridiculous,” Twist growls. “Jus’ ‘cause nothin’s workin’ right don’t mean I can’t pick up a fucking water bottle.” He’s made his body work when it shouldn’t before. Actually, didn’t he walk across the lab with Iggy not that long ago? Yesterday, holy shit, that was only yesterday. And it hurt like knives in his joints, but he did it, so what’s different now? This shouldn’t be so hard.

This is an easier task than that was. It’s easier than a lot of things he’s had to make his body do when it was broken. It barely even hurts; his body just isn’t cooperating. So what does he do when he can’t count on his body to move the way it’s supposed to? Other than push through with sheer determination. While that’s great for working through pain, it’s not going to put any strength back in his limbs. Pain is only a minor consideration, here. More important is figuring out what he can do and what he can’t do.

What he can’t do is scoot over, lift his body off the bed, or reach over without tipping himself over the side. so pretty much anything requiring strength or coordination. What he can do is small, individual movements that don’t require much energy or having much sense of where any of his limbs are. So basically, move the whole thing by moving a bunch of connected but uncoordinated parts. That’s doable. Think mechanics. Think center of gravity. His whole body doesn’t need to move away from the edge, just enough of it that shifting his weight won’t move his center of gravity over the edge. So what’s pulling him over the edge?

That leg dangling over the side sure isn’t helping. Get that back on the bed and he might be safe, or at least have enough leverage to move the rest of him. Great, a plan. Only problem it, it’s also fucking heavy. It takes three tries to get his leg up on the bed, ultimately hooking it around the other one and pushing against the bed with all the strength in his arms to keep himself from tumbling over the side, but he makes it. With both legs on the bed, it’s easy to reach out with both arms and pull the water bottle to his chest.

“Hah! Gotcha.” He grins at his victory and chuckles at what currently counts as a victory. Whatever, he’ll take what he can get.

Blackberry startles awake at the noise and immediately starts projecting /love/comfort/protection/hope/worry. That last one is probably unintentional. “Brother! Oh, no, I’m sorry, you’ll be okay, just calm down, it��s just a dream, it’s alright –”

“Woah, woah, bro, I’m okay.” He takes a deep gulp from the water bottle, then lays his head back on the pillow, relaxing into the projections.

“You’re ok? Oh, you’re awake! Did a nightmare wake you up? Wait, do you know you’re talking to me or do you think it’s someone else? It’s Blackberry, Sans, your little brother Sans, and we’re in our house on the surface and Muffet isn’t here and we don’t work for her anymore and we’re both safe –”

“Bro! I know where we are. I’m fine.”

“Oh, thank the stars.” He lets the projections fade. “I’m so sorry I fell asleep. I tried to keep your nightmares away but I must have drifted off at some point, which is completely inexcusable and I’m so sorry if that’s what woke you up but I’m awake now so you can go back to sleep and I’ll keep the dreams away. I promise I’ll do better this time –”

“Hey, take a breath.” Blackberry pauses to breathe. “That’s better. Now just calm down. I didn’t wake up from a nightmare. I woke up ‘cause it’s mornin’ an’ I got plenty of sleep. See, the sun’s up.”

Blackberry blinks at the light coming in from the window. “Oh. I guess it is.”

“Yeah. I’m done sleepin’. Mornin’, little bro.” Twist grins.

“Good morning, brother,” Blackberry replies automatically, before furrowing his brow bones. “You didn’t have nightmares?”

“No clue. If I did, I don’ remember ‘em, so I’m not too concerned.”

“Oh. And you got enough sleep?”

“Yeah, plenty. More’n I’ve had fer awhile.”

Blackberry nods decisively. “Good, then it’s working.”

“What’s workin’?”

“The projections. I’ve been projecting at you anytime it looked like a nightmare was starting, and it made them go away. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Aw, little bro, ya don’ gotta do that. I can handle a few bad dreams.”

“Well there’s no reason you should have to, not when there’s something I can do about it.”

“And ya thought I was dreamin’ when ya woke up?”

“Well you’re not exactly in a normal sleeping position, and it works better if I catch them early, so I got in the habit of doing it whenever it seemed like one might be starting. I’d rather do that than miss one. I should be able to keep all of your nightmares away that way so you can sleep.” Aw, his little bro is just so sweet. He’s the best brother ever. There’s just a little problem with his plan, though.

“Plannin’ ta keep projectin’ at me every time I move every night? That don’ seem all that sustainable.”

“Just until you stop having so many nightmares.” 

“Uh, bro? How long are ya thinkin’ that’s gonna be?”

“Oh, I know we don’t know how long they’ll continue, but I think I can keep going for quite a while. Projecting doesn’t take too much effort.” That still doesn’t address the biggest problem with that plan.

“When are ya plannin’ ta sleep?”

“I can nap!”

“When?”

“I’ll find the time.”

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“Enough. You were pretty restless early in the night, but you calmed down after a while so I must have fallen asleep after that. I’m so sorry. Do you really think you didn’t have any more bad dreams?”

“If I did, I don’t remember. Bro, ya can’t just stay up with me all night. Ya gotta sleep.”

“I told you, I’ll nap.”

“When?”

“When we have some downtime. Now, why are you trying to drink with your face smushed into a pillow?” Of course he has to ask about that. Twist sighs.

“Too much work ta turn back over.”

“How did you get like that in the first place?”

“Easiest way ta get a drink?”

“And how would that be the easiest way to get a drink, exactly?”

“‘Cause none of the other ways worked.”

“How many ways are there?”

“More’n ya’d think, and most of them are useless. Kinda wore myself out, so ya mind helpin’ me turn back over?”

“Of course! Or, I mean, of course I don’t mind. Here, you just hold onto you water and I’ll get you settled in properly.” He rolls Twist over more carefully than necessary and settles his skull in the middle of the pillow. Twist appreciates the sentiment, even if he is a little concerned that Blackberry might have gotten the impression that he needs to be treated like glass. It’s hardly a priority, though.

“Thanks, bro. Mind gettin’ me another pillow or two? ‘s not much easier ta drink flat on my back than flat on my front.”

“Certainly.” After stuffing two more pillows behind Twist, he sits back down in the chair.

Drinking still isn’t as easy as it should be. Twist’s hands are shaking. He watches them, perplexed. “Wonder why they’re doin’ that?”

Blackberry watches them too. “I don’t know. Do they hurt?”

“Nah, just tired. Nothin’ wants ta do what I tell it today. ‘s like all my energy’s gone.”

“Are you sure you got enough sleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you wear yourself out getting the water?”

“Maybe, but nothin’ was workin’ too great even when I first woke up. I thought the water’d be pretty easy ta get ‘cause I was feelin’ so good after all that sleep, but I could hardly move.”

“That’s very strange. How does your soul feel?”

“Same as ever. I think? Hard ta tell. Kinda burns, a little? Not like when some node’s dissolvin’ or anythin’ like that, just… Oh.” He snorts at his own stupidity. “Hey, bro, mind gettin’ me some breakfast?” That’s just embarrassing.

“Of course, but what does that have to do with what we were discussing?”

“Probly has everythin’ ta do with it, considerin’ I ain’t eaten since right after Cash brought me here, an’ I’m pretty sure what I’m feelin’ is my body yellin’ at me fer not feedin’ it when I’m burnin’ through all this energy.” Which should have been obvious.

“You mean you’re starving and you didn’t notice?”

“Wouldn’t say I’m starvin’.”

Both browbones raised, Blackberry reiterates, “your hands are shaking.”

“Yeah, yeah, so maybe I’m a little starvin’. Hard ta tell. Jus’ go make me a smoothie. Ya know where the instructions are?”

“On the kitchen counter. Will you be alright if I’m gone for a few minutes?”

“Yeah. When Cash had ta leave me alone, he piled up some blankets along the edge of the bed ta make it harder fer me ta fall out.” It feels a little like being a babybones in a crib, but he doesn’t fancy hitting the floor at the moment.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.” Blackberry lines the bed with blankets, then rushes downstairs while Twist sips his water.

***

“I can’t believe I let him get so hungry,” Blackberry mutters as he enters the kitchen. “I should have thought of breakfast first thing. Or dinner, for that matter.” Twist said he ate after Cash brought him home, but when was that? Surely not recently enough.

The smoothie ingredients sit together on a counter, along with a small recipe card. Reading the card, Blackberry scowls. “That hardly counts as a recipe.” It’s just measurements for the different powders and instructions to pour them in a cup and mix them with water. “And that hardly counts as a smoothie.” How can a slurry of rehydrated powders be the best thing for Twist to eat? These so-called ‘ingredients’ need some investigation.

He tastes the protein powder first. It’s just a basic protein powder, as unappetizing as any other. It’s nothing he would normally cook with, but it might be a useful supplement for someone who can’t eat any natural protein sources. Can Twist have any natural protein sources? That’s something to look into later. He spoons a small amount into a glass of water. Not particularly soluble, either. It’s not the type he’d choose for this mixture. Other ingredients might mask it, but there aren’t many other ingredients in the recipe. So far, he’s not impressed.

Then he tastes the other main powder, which is labeled by calorie content but not by ingredients. It’s almost… oily as it dissolves in his mouth. Ew. And the taste – He shudders. The taste is… well, fatty, but not any kind of fat he’d cook with. And it’s sort of sweet, but in a sickly, cloying way that even the most ardent sugar lover couldn’t enjoy. Twist must hate it. Cringing, he swishes it around in his mouth. There’s definitely some kind of significant carbohydrate component, but again, nothing like the carbohydrates in any normal kind of food.

It’s like someone took whatever calorie sources they could think of, extracted only the highest calorie components, and mixed them all together into the strangest powder he’s ever tasted. He loves high calorie treats as much as anyone, but this is disgusting. What’s the point? It could be fed to someone who wouldn’t eat much but still needed a lot of calories, but wouldn’t that person then eat less because of the taste and texture, resulting in fewer calories actually being consumed? It seems very counterproductive.

The third component is some kind of vitamin and mineral supplement. It’s not clear what the vitamins or minerals are, but it’s always better to use supplements as supplements, not as the primary source of nutrition. But that would require including foods that naturally contain those nutrients, like fruits and vegetables, which this ‘recipe’ does not have.

What else is there? An extra calcium supplement? That’s a thoughtful addition to make an otherwise standardized nutrition mixture more appropriate for a skeleton, but wouldn’t it be better to just use high calcium milk in place of the water? Even if more calcium needs to be added, it would be absorbed better if it was dissolved in milk. And whole milk could be used to increase the calorie content, too.

The whole thing seems designed by someone who technically knows the main components of nutrition but understands nothing about nutritional science or food preparation. It should keep someone alive but can’t be nearly as healthy as normal food, and of course it’s completely unappetizing. And then, of course, there’s the care put in by the chef, which is completely absent from such an artificial method of preparation.This can’t possibly be the best thing for Twist to drink. A multitude of possible improvements runs through Blackberry’s mind. But Twist’s health is so fragile right now, and what if Blackberry is wrong? What if there’s something he’s missing? He’d hate to unintentionally hurt Twist by ignoring instructions that turn out to be important.

Maybe he’d better make one and sample it first. Maybe it’s not so bad. He measures out the powders and mixes in the water as per the instructions, then takes a sip of the resulting mixture. He gags. Twist has been drinking this? How? This is completely unacceptable. But why would Iggy feed him this if it wasn’t necessary? Just to be cruel? Indifference is also a possibility. Maybe Twist can’t eat normal food and this is easier than developing a modified diet? Maybe she doesn’t know enough about cooking to develop a modified diet.

Maybe Twist knows the answer. He’d better, because Blackberry would be failing in his duty as a brother and as a chef if he fed his brother this repugnant concoction. It’s about time to check on him, anyway. Realizing how long he’s been gone, he rushes upstairs with the mixture that he refuses to think of as a smoothie.

He’s ranting before he even walks through the door. “Why is this like this? You’re not eating this.”

“Huh?” Twist blinks at him in confusion, still holding his water bottle.

“What is this, this abomination of a drink?”

“Uh… breakfast?” Does he really not see the problem with this? Oh, his poor brother! Look at what’s become of him without Blackberry around to feed him properly.

“Papy, this is disgusting. Why does she make you drink this? Why did you agree to drink this?”

Twist shrugs. “Ain’t my favorite, but there’s not much else I can eat, bro.”

“But you can eat this?”

“Yeah? It keeps my HP up and don’ make me sick. I can’t eat anythin’ solid an’ I burn through magic like nothin’ you’ve ever seen, so this’s what I’ve got.”

“Are there no alternatives? I don’t see anything in the ingredients that you couldn’t get from a real, properly made nutritional shake or home made meal of any kind.”

“Dunno. She put fruit in it fer a while, and that wasn’t too bad, but,” Twist winces, “we had some problems with that so she stopped.”

Blackberry shakes his head in disgust. “I’m not feeding you this. I’ll come up with something better.”

“Not sure that’s the best idea. Look, the taste ain’t great, but I can eat it an’ it hasn’t caused any problems. Kinda worried ‘bout changin’ it.”

“I don’t think there’s anything special about any of the ingredients. I tasted them, and if anything, they’re less healthy because they’re oversimplified versions of regular foods. Not in the way that they would be if you actually needed such an artificial diet, more like someone just wanted an easy way to store large amounts of basic nutrients. I’m convinced that it’s more for convenience than anything.”

“Ya really don’t think it’s gotta be that way?”

“I’m certain of it. If I had any doubts, the fact that she used to put fruit in them has convinced me. The problems with the fruit weren’t nutritional, were they?”

“Nope, nothin’ ta do with that.” Why is he wincing again? That’s worth following up on, but right now the goal is to get Twist some edible breakfast.

“Then I see no reason why you can’t have something better.”

“‘s gotta be some kinda smoothie. Not s’posed ta eat anythin’ I gotta chew or that could have chunks in it.” Despite the caution, he sounds a little hopeful. He’s right to be hopeful! Blackberry is up to the challenge!

“A high calorie smoothie with protein and no chunks. That’s easy enough to make. I can even blend in the supplements without letting them overpower the whole drink. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll have it ready. Can you wait that long?”

“Not goin’ anywhere, am I? Have at it, bro. Anythin’d be better ‘n this, long as I can eat it.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Five minutes later, he makes his way back up the stairs with a fresh water bottle containing a smoothie that he would be willing to serve to someone in a pinch. It’s not his best work, but it should do for now.

Twist is slumped against the pillows, water bottle abandoned by his side. Oh, please, let this one be drinkable! His poor brother is so low on energy, it’s unbearable. “Here, brother, try this.”

Twist accepts the drink gratefully, but with hands that are even shakier than before. “Thanks, bro.” He takes a sip. “Bro! This’s amazin’!” He quickly slurps down half the bottle.

“It’s not my best work, but I didn’t want to take too long so I stuck to the basics.”

“Best thing I ever tasted!” 

Twist’s enthusiasm makes Blackberry smile. “I’m glad you like it. There’s room for improvement, but that can wait until there’s more time to work on it.”

“Sure, bro, but seriously, this is the best.” He continues drinking, while Blackberry watches for any signs of ill effects. He doesn’t seem to be having any trouble absorbing it, and, oh! His hands have stopped shaking!

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks while taking the empty bottle.

“Yeah, ‘m feelin’ great! Best I’ve felt since this whole thing started. Amazin’ what a good meal an’ a good night’s sleep can do, huh, bro?”

“I’m so glad. Now, what else can I do for you? Would you like to sleep more?”

“Nah, tired of sleepin’. Tired of layin’ in bed, really, but I don’ think I’m up fer walkin’ around the house.”

“That seems like a bad idea,” Blackberry agrees. “And impossible.”

“Right. So, got any ideas fer what I can do? Guess it’s a good sign that I’m feelin’ good enough ta get bored, but it ain’t much fun.”

“Would you like a book to read?”

“Maybe? Bring me one, wouldja?”

Blackberry pulls one of Twist’s favorites off the shelf. “How about this one?”

“Sure, give it here.” Twist accepts the book with a smile, but it soon shifts to a frown.

“What’s wrong?” Twist sighs as he sets the book in his lap and closes his eyesockets. “Can’t see the words.”

“You can’t see?!” Oh no, oh no, what if he’s going blind? What if the treatment damaged the pathways that connect to vision, or something? Blackberry doesn’t know how that all works, but it can happen. Monsters have gone blind before because of something happening to their magic, especially non-fleshy monsters who rely on magic for so much. What will they do if Twist goes blind? That would be devastating, absolutely – 

“Bro! Calm down. It’s ok. I can see. Everthin’s just a little blurry, so I can’t see well enough ta read.”

“But what if it’s a sign that your eyes are damaged? Has it been like that the whole time, or is it getting worse?”

“It’s not gettin’ worse! My vision’s been doin’ weird things the whole time. It’s not always the same, but it comes and goes an’ this ain’t any worse than it’s been. I just haven’t tried ta read before.” That’s not as bad as it could be, although it still isn’t good. But if Twist doesn’t want to freak out about it, Blackberry will try not to either. He’ll try.

“Oh. Well as long as it’s not getting worse and you can still see. You’re sure it’s not getting worse?”

“I’m sure. It’s nothin’ ta worry ‘bout; readin’s just not gonna be the best way ta keep myself busy fer awhile.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.” Blackberry takes the book back to the shelf, glancing surreptitiously back at his brother.

“Sure hope none of it’s permanent,” Twist mutters under his breath, but Blackberry can still hear him.

“Do you think it might be?”

“What? Nah, course not. ‘s all temporary. Iggy said so an’ everythin’.”

“How do you know she was telling the truth?”

“‘Cause she wasn’t tryna trick me. Look, she mighta undersold the problems a little, but she didn’t outright lie ‘bout anythin’.”

“What if she didn’t know about it? Cash said the treatment has never been tested on anyone with such high LV before.”

“Then we’ll deal with it when it happens.”

“Papy! You can’t just let yourself go blind, or be bedbound forever, or –”

“Not ‘lettin’’ myself do anythin’. Look, bro, I’m almost completely sure I’m gonna be fine. Everythin’ I know ‘bout this says I will. On the tiny chance I won’t be, we’ll deal with it. I know I can count on you, and anything’d be better than havin’ all that LV sittin’ around waitin’ ta get me.” 

It all comes back to the LV, doesn’t it? Well, of course it does, because that’s what this is all about, but he’s just not used to Twist talking about it so plainly. Probably because Blackberry usually refuses to discuss it, he acknowledges guiltily, and doesn’t that just make him a terrible excuse for a brother? “You really were worried about it, weren’t you?”

“More’n worried. I knew it was gonna get me, and so did you. I got real used ta livin’ with a tickin’ time bomb in my head, an’ now it’s gone, so I’m really not too worried ‘bout the tiny chance that somethin’ might go wrong from this. I’m not gonna die, an’ we can deal with anythin’ else. Right?” There’s just a tiny bit of hesitation in his voice, like he’s not quite sure about part of that, and Blackberry has the sinking suspicion that he might be part of that hesitation. Is Twist actually worried that Blackberry won’t help? Is it… is it because he won’t deal with the LV being a problem? Has he really made his brother think that he can’t even count on him to get him through this, that it’s not safe to share how he’s feeling? No! He’s not letting that happen.

“Of… of course! Of course we can deal with it. We can do anything, as long as we’re together!” And he means it! Even if it means discussing some terribly uncomfortable subjects. Twist should never have to hesitate when he talks about them getting through something together.

“That’s right, bro.” Twist sounds more confident now. “And what’ve I got ta worry ‘bout with the Sensational Sans ta take care of me?”

“Sansational, even, and of course, you’re right!” They both grin at the old pun. “I’ll take care of you, and you’ll get completely better, and your LV will be gone, and we won’t have to worry about any of this ever again. Right?” He can’t help but let a little hesitation of his own slip through, but the determination is genuine.

“Right! We got it covered, bro. Now how ‘bout we see if there’re any games I can play? Sittin’ in this bed all day every day doin’ nothin’s not gonna work fer me.”

“Certainly! How about cards? Do you think you can play cards?”

“Worth a try. Bring up a deck and we’ll see.”

Mood somehow both lowered and lifted, Blackberry races downstairs to get some cards, taking both water bottles with him as he goes. He rinses the one with the smoothie in the sink and sets it in the drying rack, and refills the other one with fresh, cold water. Then he grabs a deck of cards and rushes back upstairs.

“The numbers on this one are bigger than the others, so I thought it might be easier… Papy?”

Twist is curled up on his side, clutching his ribcage, sockets clenched shut. Dropping the cards, Blackberry races to his side. “Brother?”

“Think… mmmm…” he whimpers, “think cards are gonna haveta wait.”

“What’s wrong?” 

Sweat is beading on Twist’s skull and ribs, and he’s panting. “‘s okay. Jus’ hurts. Jus’ a little. ‘s fine.” He curls up tighter and sobs.

“You’re not fine! You’re hurt, you’re really hurt. What’s hurting you?”

“Jus’ a node. Jus’” – he cries out, and doesn’t stop for what feels like eternity but might be more like fifteen seconds. Blackberry freezes in place, not knowing how to help and terrified of making it worse. When Twist stops screaming, he pants for a moment and then resumes speaking.

“‘s fine. ‘m ok. ‘s jus’… goes away. Always, jus’ –” he trails off in a whimper.

“Okay, okay Papy, it’s okay. I understand. You don’t have to keep talking.”

“Jus’… goes away. It goes away goes away goes away it always, always…” The last word is a sob.

“I know. I know it goes away. I promise I understand. I won’t freak out about it; I’ll just stay right here until it goes away, and you’ll be okay. You’ll be ok, Papy. It will be over soon and then we can play cards.”

“‘m hot.” It’s the smallest whisper, but it jolts Blackberry into action. Of course he’s hot, his soul is burning, and Blackberry knows how to fix it. The temperature part, at least. He digs into his pile of towels as Twist’s whimpers start sounding more like screams. He can’t take the pain away but he can at least stop the heat from scorching Twist’s ribs again.

Oh stars, oh stars, his brother’s soul is hot enough to scorch his ribs. How is he surviving this? How isn’t he losing his mind? How is Blackberry going to keep from throwing up at the thought of it? He almost loses himself in his own panic, but no. Absolutely not. Twist needs him and he’s not going to waste time freaking out about watching what Twist has to actually experience. There’s a job to be done, so get to work. He dunks a towel in the water pitcher.

Twist’s screaming has intensified by the time Blackberry has the towel ready. How is this even going to help? What’s a little water going to do against so much pain? What can he ever do about any of Twist’s pain? That useless line of thinking can stop right there. He knows this helps. He’s seen it. Finding the hottest bones that he can reach with the way Twist is curled, he gently runs the damp cloth along the bones. The response is immediate. Twist gasps, presses into the towel, and tries to grab it to hold it himself. Blackberry lets him take it, heedless of the water dripping everywhere as Twist clutches the towel in desperately clenching hands, and picks up another one.

They sit like that for a long time. Blackberry doesn’t know how long. Twist doesn’t stop screaming, but his screams lose some of their desperation as Blackberry keeps his ribs at a tolerable temperature. He briefly considers trying to cool the soul itself, but that seems like such an invasion and it would be hard to get Twist to uncurl enough to even get to his soul, and for all he knows it wouldn’t even be safe, so he doesn’t try it. Maybe they can look into it later. For now, he just keeps running cold towels across Twist’s ribs and replacing the one Twist is holding when he’s wrung all the water out of it and starts to tear it while trying to get more.

This isn’t so hard. He can do this. Just keep Twist cool and don’t freak out about the fact that he hasn’t stopped screaming in at least ten minutes even though his voice sounds like sandpaper. It’s fine. It will be fine. This is supposed to happen. Everything is going the way it’s supposed to so he shouldn’t be upset. Twist says it’s fine and he’s the one who’s actually suffering, so Blackberry should just suck it up and take care of his brother. It’s what Twist would do for him.

Twist’s screams gradually fade back into into whimpering. That means he might come out of it soon. Okay, time for Blackberry to get himself under control. Twist needs someone he can count on, not someone to take care of. He can do this.

He leans forward when Twist’s sockets unclench and blink open. “Hi, Papy. How are you feeling?”

Twist blinks at him. “Hi.” His voice is hoarse and weak, and doesn’t really tell Blackberry much.

“Do you need anything?”

“Wa…” He coughs. “Water?”

“Certainly. Can I help you sit up first, though?”

“Mhmm.” Twist winces as Blackberry lifts his shoulders and repositions him so he’s lying on his back with the pillows supporting his shoulders and skull, but sighs in relief as he leans back into the pillows. “Thanks. Water?”

“Here.”

Twist makes no move to hold the water bottle, so Blackberry holds it for him and presses the straw to his teeth. “Open up.” He says it gently, teasingly, but Twist’s quickly indrawn breath suggests he doesn’t take it that way. “Brother?”

“Sorry.” Twist lets the straw in his mouth. Blackberry is starting to really not like it when Twist apologizes.

“It’s okay. You’re doing everything just fine. Do you want to drink now?” Twist nods, which pulls the straw out of his mouth. Sockets widening, he quickly catches the straw and bites down on it to hold it in place. This is disturbingly like how he acted after he fell out of bed. He’s much too cooperative. But he needs to drink.

Being very careful to be clear but not commanding, Blackberry suggests, “how about you go ahead and drink now, okay, brother?” Seeing Twist open his mouth to speak, he hastily adds, “you don’t have to answer. Just drink if you’re thirsty.” Twist finally starts to drink, thank the stars.

As Twist drinks, his body loses tension that Blackberry didn’t realize it held. His hands finally uncurl from the washcloth and his sockets close in bliss. By the time they open again, there’s a level of awareness in the working one that suggests Twist might finally be with him.

“Papy?”

“Yeah, little bro?” He’s quiet, but not like he’s struggling to speak, and there’s enough inflection to let Blackberry know he’s doing better.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Think I got lost fer a minute. Kinda. But I’m fine.”

“Was it because of me?”

“Nah. Just… random shit sets me off. Happens all the time. ‘s really annoyin’.”

“Was it something I said?”

“No. I mean, coulda been, but it coulda been anythin’. Everythin’s jus’ right at the surface right now. ‘s got me kinda fucked up. Messed up. Are we doin’ the language thing right now?”

“I think people who can randomly collapse in agony or forget where they are can have a pass for swearing. At least temporarily.” Blackberry tries a weak smile. It sort of works.

“Thanks, bro.” Twist manages an actual smile, even if it is shaky. Then he yawns. “Think I need a nap.”

Blackberry tries very hard not to yawn too, but he loses that battle.

Twist notices. “Think you need a nap, too. Ya didn’t sleep much last night, didja?”

“I slept enough. You take a nap and I’ll watch over you.”

“Ya sure? Ain’t gonna help either of us fer you ta wear yerself out.”

“I’m sure. You go to sleep. I promise I’ll sleep when I’m tired. Here, let me help you with the pillows.” He takes two pillows away so Twist can lie flat on the bed. “There. Is there anything else you need?”

“Nah, I’m good. Feel great, actually. Didja do that towel thing again?”

“Yes, did it help?”

“Helped a lot. My ribs don’ even hurt.”

“That’s wonderful! I’ll make sure to keep doing it.”

“Thanks, bro. Gonna sleep now, okay?”

“Of course. Good night, or morning, or whatever it is.”

“Good whatever.” Twist smiles as he closes his eyes. He’s asleep in moments, smile still on his face.

Blackberry pays close attention while Twist sleeps, not giving himself a chance to be distracted by a book or to fall asleep himself. Twist sleeps peacefully for the most part, with only a few moments of restlessness that Blackberry soothes away with more /love/comfort/protection/hope/. It’s going to be okay. He’s doing a good job taking care of Twist. It’s a little rocky, but Twist feels okay and now he’s sleeping peacefully, and he has better food now, and if he wants to do something when he wakes up they can play a game. They’ve got this.

Twist doesn’t sleep for long. He wakes very refreshed, and happily spends the early afternoon rambling about various subjects. They chat about Blackberry’s school and Twist’s work, which prompts Twist to remember that he didn’t exactly give his boss much of an explanation before he left, or tell anyone how long he would be gone.

“Think they’re mad at me?”

“I wouldn’t think so. Concerned, maybe, but I’m sure they’ll understand once you explain.”

“So ya don’t think I’m gonna get fired?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They love you there. They wouldn’t fire you.”

“Ya don’t know the day I had before I left.”

“What happened?” It can’t be as bad as Twist is thinking. Those people he works with absolutely adore him. They’ve never had a bad thing to say about him.

“Lost my cool. Really, really lost it.”

“What did you do, yell at your boss? That probably requires an apology, but he’s not just going to fire you over a bad day.”

“I almost punched a customer through a wall.”

“Well that’s–” it sinks in what Twist just said. “Oh my. That is a problem. Did anyone get hurt?” If Twist hurt a customer, if he – what if really, really hurt a customer? What if he–? No, he would have said. They wouldn’t be talking about this so calmly if that happened. They wouldn’t.

“Nah, just the wall.” Oh, thank the stars. Blackberry can breathe again. “Pulled the punch at the last second and missed his head, and the guy was bein’ a shit head so no one was too broken up about it, an’ they stood up fer me with the police, but it shouldn’ta happened in the first place.”

“No, it shouldn’t have, but it sounds like you were provoked, and no one else who was there blamed you for it, so I don’t see what that has to do with you getting fired. Your boss likes you even more than your coworkers do.”

“Might decide I’m too much of a liability ta keep around. Maybe that’s why no one complained when I left a few hours later.”

“Or maybe they were worried about you and thought you needed a break.”

“Ya really think so?”

“I think it’s more likely than all of them suddenly deciding that they don’t want you around anymore because you lost your temper once. Or am I misreading what kind of people they are?”

“Nah, ya know ‘em pretty well. Ya really think they’re worried?”

“Of course they’re worried! Or at least concerned. Wouldn’t you be concerned if one of them went home after a bad day and wasn’t heard from for a week?”

“When ya put it like that, yeah, I guess they might be worried. Maybe I should call ‘em? Let ‘em know what’s goin’ on?”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

“Actually, uh, bro?”

“Yes?”

“Can you do it? Call ‘em for me?”

“If you’d like, but why don’t you want to do it?”

“Not too confident in my ability ta manage a phonecall. It’d be pretty embarrassin’ ta ferget who I’m talkin’ to or jus’ randomly start screamin’, doncha think?”

“Oh, good point. It would definitely convince them that you need sick leave, but I can see why you’d want to avoid it. I’ll call them later to let them know what’s going on.”

“Thanks, bro.”

They sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, but then Twist starts to fidget. “Hey, bro?”

“What is it?”

“Still got those cards from this mornin’?”

“Yes, they’re… hmm. Where did I put them?” He has no memory of putting them anywhere after the morning they had, but they must be somewhere. He checks every surface in the room, and is just looking through the bookshelf when he hears a clack and a grunt. He whirls around to investigate, and finds Twist’s upper body hanging over the side of the bed.

“Papy!” he screams in horror. He rushes over to rescue his brother, only to find Twist bracing himself against the floor using both hands and the top of his skull and peering under the bed.

Completely unperturbed by his position, Twist calls, “found ‘em!”

“What?”

“Found the cards. They’re under the bed.”

“You what?”

“Found the cards? Wasn’t that what we were lookin’ for?”

“I was looking for the cards. You were supposed to stay in bed. You’re going to get hurt!”

“Oh. Well, I found ‘em anyway. Don’t think I’m gonna manage ta pick ‘em up, though. Or ta pick myself up, either. Little help here? I’m gettin’ kinda tired.”

“Of course you’re getting tired, because you’re not supposed to be out of bed! Let alone out of bed upside down!” Bending down next to his completely reckless brother, and ignoring the mumbled “‘m kinda still in bed,” Blackberry carefully lifts him and settles him safely back in the middle of the bed. “I can’t believe you did that. You could have gotten hurt! You could have fallen on the floor!”

Twist shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“And you get hurt every time it happens.”

“Not hurt this time, though, am I? So it worked out just fine, an’ now we know where the cards are. Not that they’re doin’ us much good under the bed. Mind pickin’ ‘em up, or should I give it another try?” 

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh, this is serious. Twist could have gotten hurt, and he doesn’t need any encouragement to do ridiculous, dangerous things.  And yes, hanging over the side of the bed is dangerous now and always ridiculous. Don’t laugh. But Twist is watching him with that look, that one where he treats the most ridiculous thing as the only reasonable thing a person could possibly do, and how does he ever manage to keep a straight face? Blackberry isn’t managing it one single bit. Oh stars, he loves his brother so much. Even if his self-preservation instincts couldn’t fill a teaspoon.

“Bro? Gonna get those cards? Ya with me?” Twist waves a hand in Blackberry’s face.

“Huh? Oh, of course! You clearly need something to do.” He retrieves the cards and pulls the deck out of the box. “Can you see these?”

Twist squints at a card. He turns it sideways, then holds it right up to his face. Then he sighs. “Nah, bro, not well enough ta play. All that work, an’ I can’t even use ‘em.”

“You can’t see them at all?”

“A little, but not enough ta tell the numbers apart. The colors are easy, but I got no clue if I’m holdin’ a diamond or a heart right now, an’ I’d have ta count the shapes ta know how many there are.”

“Oh.” That’s disappointing. Blackberry had really been looking forward to having some kind of game to play with Twist.

“Guess it’s back ta talkin’ and sleepin’, less we got a giant card set layin’ around that I don’t know ‘bout.” Well there’s an idea. Not a giant card set, but a game with bigger numbers and bold colors to help tell the cards apart.

“I’ll be right back.” He darts out of the room.

“Bro?” But he doesn’t answer. Twist will see his idea soon enough.

Downstairs, Blackberry digs through the game cabinet. They have all sorts of games to play when the other skeletons come over. Not everyone likes playing poker every time, after all, at least not the way certain members of their group play it.

Most of the games would be too hard to play in bed or have tiny details that Twist won’t be able to see, but this one should work just fine. Finding what he’s looking for, he races back upstairs to try out his idea.

“Uno!” Blackberry shouts with a grin as he enters Twist’s room.

“Dos?” Browbones raised, Twist waits for an explanation for the random Spanish.

“No, no, Uno, the game! Can you play it?”

“Gen’rally, yeah. I think most people can. Why?”

“Can you play it now?” Handing a card to Twist, he asks, “I mean, can you see it? Can you read the numbers?”

Peering at the card, Twist exclaims, “Yeah! Ya know what, bro, I can!”

“Yes! And each suit is a different color, so you shouldn’t have any trouble telling the cards apart.”

“That’s a great idea. Thanks, bro. I was ‘bout ta go outta my mind with nothin’ ta do. Wanna play?”

“Of course! That’s why I brought it. Here, I’ll deal first.”

Uno goes very well. At first Twist struggles with concentrating on the game, resulting in a few losses from holding onto a card that he could have played several turns ago. Gradually, though, his playing improves, until Blackberry realizes that he’s only won one of the last eleven rounds. This arouses his suspicions.

“Papy, you wouldn’t cheat against me, would you?”

Twist looks hurt. As if. “Course not, bro.”

“Then how do you keep winning?” Okay, so, he probably wouldn’t cheat against Blackberry, but he’s never had anything against cheating in general, and he keeps winning!

“Just finally gettin’ a good strategy goin’.” A strategy? In Uno? It’s not that much of a strategy game.

“How many Uno strategies are there?”

“Dunno, but I got one, an’ it’s workin’.” Twist grins.

“It certainly is,” Blackberry grumbles.

“What, ya want me ta go easy on ya, little bro?”

“No! I just wish I knew how you managed a loss-proof strategy for Uno.”

“It ain’t perfect. I lost that one, what was it, six games ago?”

“One, you lost one. One game out of eleven, and I bet you won’t lose another.”

“Heh, guess cards are just my thing, bro. Any kind of cards.” Smiling fondly, Twist reaches over to pat Blackberry’s skull. When Blackberry leans into the touch, Twist scratches at his coronal suture, which never fails to relax him.

“‘kay, bro, I think that’s enough cards fer now. How ‘bout ya get us some dinner? Think we skipped lunch, and I’m actually lookin’ forward ta it after the miracle ya made fer breakfast.”

“I wouldn’t call it a miracle. Any chef could have done it.”

“Well no one else did do it, an’ it means I can look forward ta eatin’, so I appreciate it.”

“I’m happy to help. I’ll go make you another one. I’ve had some more ideas that I’d like to try. We’ll see if you like them.”

“Thanks, bro. Yer the best. And don’t ferget ta get somethin’ fer yerself. Not sure when’s the last time I saw ya eat. Or drink, fer that matter.”

“I might possibly have forgotten, with everything else going on. I’ll make myself some dinner too.”

“An’ bring yerself up a water bottle, too, while yer at it. Last thing we need is you passin’ out from dehydration ‘cause yer too busy worryin’ ‘bout me.”

“Good idea. I’ll get one. I’ll be right back.” He heads downstairs to prepare dinner for both of them. Twist is right, he needs to take care of himself too.

***

Twist smiles fondly as Blackberry leaves the room. His little brother is just the best. He really is. Rushing around all day taking care of Twist, finding things for Twist to do, finding something he can eat and wants to eat. It’s not an easy job, but he’s sticking with it. Twist just hopes he’s remembering to take care of himself.

Blackberry doesn’t rush right back upstairs, which hopefully means he’s doing what he’s told and getting himself some dinner. Twist was a little worried he wouldn’t be willing to be gone so long. Poor little bro, so worried about Twist when nothing all that bad has even happened today. For the most part, it’s been fun, just two brothers hanging out together like they haven’t done in a while. It’s looking like spending extra time with the people he cares about is an unexpected benefit of this treatment. They really are the coolest, Blackberry and Cash both. He wonders what Cash has been doing today. Hopefully he’s gotten some decent rest. If only Blackberry would follow his example.

This really is longer than Blackberry is usually gone. Not that Twist is complaining, but it would be nice if he’d left the water a little closer. Oh, well, this isn’t like this morning. He’s feeling much better now. Look at how well he did finding the cards. Halfway out of bed, and he didn’t even fall out. Reaching the water shouldn’t be any trouble at all. The worst that will happen is he’ll fall out of bed. That’s nothing new.

Paying careful attention to where he places his arms and how he shifts his weight, Twist turns over and slowly drags himself to the edge of the bed. Just like he thought, no trouble at all. It’s just like the cards. Raising himself up onto his elbows, he almost loses his balance, but catches himself on the nightstand. Ha! Not a bit of trouble. No reason to call Blackberry in for something he can do for himself. Leaning forward slightly, he shifts his weight off of one arm to reach for the water, smiles as his hand closes around it, then curses as his other arm refuses to support his weight and sends him toppling over the side of the bed.

Ow. Fuck. Ow. He lies on the ground for a while. His skull is killing him. His ribs are killing him. His spine is killing him. So are his pelvis, his arms and his legs. Fortunately, nothing is literally killing him, so he just holds still and tries to breathe. Ow.

Sometime later, he notices the water bottle next to his hand. He grabs it. He drinks it. Victory! Close enough, anyway.

Maybe he should try to get back in bed before Blackberry gets up here. Where is he, anyway? He can’t have missed that noise. From downstairs, he hears the sound of the blender. Oh, maybe he did miss the noise. What’s he putting in there? That’s loud.

It really would be nice if he could fix this somehow before Blackberry comes back. Somehow, Twist suspects that he’s not going to see getting the water as a victory. Is there any way to get back in bed? Staring up at the miles between the floor and the bed, he makes a small attempt to sit up before giving it up as a lost cause. Not going to work. Oh well, might as well enjoy his hard-earned water. Maybe in the future they’ll keep it closer to the bed.

***

Carrying so many things up and down the stairs is getting really old, really fast. Maybe Blackberry should pull out a serving tray. They definitely have one, he’s just not sure where it is because it doesn’t get a lot of use. Not that he never entertains, it’s just that the group he entertains contains a few individuals who tend to pride themselves on doing silly things like competing to carry the most dishes out by hand or some nonsense like that. They always consider their competitions very impressive. They know better than to let anything spill, but how they’ve managed it, he’ll never know.

Thoughts of his ridiculous brother and friends aside, he really needs to get back to Twist. He’s probably fine. Blackberry is just worrying about nothing. Twist can be alone for a few minutes. He was feeling good and he knows perfectly well that he should call Blackberry if he needs anything. He’s probably perfectly… Not in bed! Where is he?!

“Papy?!”

“Hey, bro,” a weak voice says from the floor. He looks down and sees Twist waving up at him with a weak grin.

“Papy! Oh, brother, what happened? Why are you out of bed? Did you forget where you are? Are you hurt?”

“‘m fine. A little banged up, but nothin’ ta worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?! You’re bleeding!”

“Huh?” Twist looks down at his ribs. “Oh, guess I am. Wouldja lookit that?”

“What happened?” Twist looks away sheepishly. “Or should that be, what did you do?”

“Jus’ wanted a drink.” He looks back and grins, holding up said drink. “An’ look, I got it!”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Might’a o’erestimated how far I could reach. Just a little.” He doesn’t seem particularly regretful about it.

“A little. Papy, you can’t just keep getting hurt like this. What if you cracked your skull open?” Twist looks away again. “Did you crack your skull open?”

“Don’ think so. ‘s just bleedin’ a little. No worse ‘n my ribs.” Just a little. His skull is just bleeding a little, just like the rest of him, because that makes it all better.

“Why didn’t you say so? Oh, nevermind that, just hold still and I’ll come help you up. Would you like to be healed first or would you rather get back in bed first?”

“Huh uh. No healin’. We talked ‘bout this.”

“But you’re bleeding!”

“A little blood loss ain’t gonna kill me. Ya hear this thing on my soul yellin’ bout my HP droppin’? No, ‘cause it ain’t. I’m fine. Jus’ get me back in bed, an’ give me my dinner, an’ I’ll sleep off the rest of it. Or leave me down here if ya want. Wouldn’t be a bad spot if ya gimme a pillow. But no healin’. It ain’t worth the chance.”

“You were afraid to try eating something different, too, and that turned out fine.”

“I let ya mess with my food ‘cause I know ya know a lot about that. More ‘n Iggy, that’s fer sure. It worked out fine ‘cause ya know what yer doin’ when it comes ta cookin’. But ya don’t know any more ‘bout healin’ than any other monster, an’ neither do I. All I know is my magic’s screwed up beyond belief an’ it don’t react well ta interference, and no one’s thought it was a good idea ta heal me so far.”

“Healing shouldn’t do anything to your magic.”

“How d’ya know that?”

“How do you know it’s not dangerous to keep falling out of bed? You keep talking about how nothing’s a big deal and you’re going to be fine, but then you won’t let me heal you even though we don’t know that that’s any more dangerous than anything else that’s happening. Why is getting water without asking for help worth the risk of hurting yourself but healing isn’t?”

“Because nothin’ ya want ta heal is botherin’ me that much.”

“But asking for help is?”

“Yes! Look, bro, ya don’t gotta agree with me or understand it, but I told ya my decision. No healin’. I think it’s more dangerous than you think it is and I don’t think it’s worth the risk. Don’t do it.”

“Okay.” Why is he so stubborn? And why can’t he see that he shouldn’t have to suffer like this? All Blackberry wants to do is help, and Twist will never let himself be helped. “Let’s get you back in bed. Then you can have your dinner. I think you’ll like the changes I’ve made.” He describes the changes as he wraps up all the bleeding bones and lifts Twist into bed. Twist nods along, and happily praises the new recipe as he drinks it.

Blackberry takes a few bites of his own dinner as Twist finishes his smoothie and settles in for bed. Nothing is all that appetizing at the moment, but he did say he would eat something. Just when he thinks Twist is asleep, his sockets slit open and he begins to speak.

“I wish ya wouldn’t worry so much, little bro. I’m alright, really. I had a good day, a real good day.”

“Me too, until I found you bleeding on the floor.”

“Sorry ya had ta see that.”

“Well I’m sorry that it happened. Please let me help you, Papy, please.”

“Ya are helpin’ me.”

“You won’t let me heal you. You won’t even ask for help getting a drink of water, or tell me when you’re upset, or anything.”

“I’m doin’ alright, bro. Yer takin’ care of me, an’ I ain’t as breakable as ya think.”

“Maybe that attitude is the problem. Maybe you think you can just keep taking everything that happens, but eventually you’re going to end up really hurt. You already are. You shouldn’t take so many risks, and you need to let me help you.”

“I am lettin’ ya help me. Ain’t gonna live in a bubble, though. When I feel up ta doin’ somethin’, I’m gonna do it, even if it does leave me with a few scratched up bones. Otherwise, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“I understand. I know you can’t just hold still and be helpless. Just please try to let me take care of you? Please?”

“Yeah, bro. Yer already takin’ care of me. Yer doin’ a good job.”

Blackberry sighs. “Alright, brother. Why don’t you go to sleep now? I’ll keep the nightmares away again.”

“When are you gonna sleep?”

“I’ll find a good time.”

“I’m gonna be pissed if I wake up ta find out you’ve just been sittin’ there watchin’ me all night.”

“I won’t, I promise. I’ll just help you get started sleeping, and then I’ll go to sleep too. As soon as possible, I promise.”

“‘kay, bro. I’m trustin’ ya on this.”

“Goodnight, brother.”

“Night, little bro.” And with that, Twist finally lets himself sleep.

It’s hard to watch him sleep, knowing he has so many injuries and not doing anything about it. Why won’t he let Blackberry heal him? No one said anything about healing being a problem. He pulls out his notes with Cash’s instructions. There’s nothing written about healing. It’s just a guess, more of a worry than anything. Twist never lets worry keep him from doing something important, so why is he doing it now? Oh, right, because he doesn’t think healing himself is important.

That has to be it. If there was an actual reason to avoid healing, someone would have said something. If Twist had any stronger reason to oppose it than simple worry, he would have explained. There’s no reason Twist shouldn’t be healed. He just doesn’t think his own comfort is important enough, which is why he needs someone like Blackberry to take care of him instead of someone like Cash, who probably did fine with the technical side of things but can hardly be relied on to care for someone’s comfort. There’s little enough comfort to be found in this terrible treatment, and there’s no reason Twist should start tomorrow in pain.

It’s just a little healing. He’ll just try the tiniest bit and see how it goes. On the small chance that anything goes wrong, he’ll just stop. It will be no trouble whatsoever.

Uncovering a small cut that’s still bleeding, Blackberry adds just a tiny bit of healing magic. Nothing happens. Then he tries a bit more. Nothing bad, just a small decrease in bleeding. He tries a little more. That’s strange. There’s a little flicker, almost like a spark? But that doesn’t make sense. He must be seeing things. Healing has nothing to do with electricity, which is what that looked like. Besides, he’s making some progress. The cut is almost starting to close. It will take all night to get all of them at this rate, though, so he’d better pick up the pace. He applies a normal amount of healing magic.

Again, the results are strange. There’s almost a mix of his own blue magic with Twist’s. Almost, but not quite. More like the magics are swirling around each other, not quite interacting yet, but they’re starting to come together. Shouldn’t the healing magic be absorbing into Twist’s own system? Instead, it’s hovering around the cut, almost like it can’t get in. What’s wrong with it?

Looking closer, Blackberry can see more of those little sparks along the line where his magic and his brother’s meet. What are those? And why are they growing?!

Twist’s arm twitches at a spark that’s big enough to obscure the entire cut, and he groans. His sockets fly open and he mouths something that Blackberry can’t hear, before sparks burst across his broken socket and he arches off the bed in a full body convulsion.

chapter 18

[cherrytart-ffxiv]

control, part 2.

(( This is a continuation of >this< story. Please read the content warnings at the beginning to ensure your comfort. Take care of yourselves. This leg of it also continues to deal with the unfortunate epidemic of the human trafficking of minors into the sex trade. Please read at your discretion. ))

My switchblade is tucked back into my boot, and I light a cigarette as I walk, the pouring rain somehow not extinguishing my match. The heavens overhead are still quaking with thunder, and I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead of me as lightning sparks the ground at either side of me. I feel the heat, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It feels good. My palms are unusually burning hot. When I glance down, I note that my palms are... glowing. The light is red and gold, like a flame trapped beneath my skin. Only seen it once before, the night I saw Cato.

It is pushed to the back of my mind. There is aetherical fuckery happening around me, and I can deal with that later. It’s not my priority. My priority is the Raen girl with the broken scales on her face and a bleeding lip. It doesn’t occur to me that the blood on my own face and hands might frighten her. By the time I turn the corner at the very end of the alley, I’ve almost completely forgotten about me. I take a moment to compose myself as I approach the tailor’s shop I’d directed her towards. The lightning stops. My palms cool. The thunder subsides from claps into the occasional low grumble.

She’s small, and not just in stature. All of her is just... small. She is skin and bones, her ribs visible through her wet clothes. Something primal rises in the back of my mind; another urge to destroy, rip apart, but not her. I want to go back and finish the job I had started on the Roegadyn. But I’d never done it before. Taking a life... it’s not on my bucket list, and I don’t want to check it off. Not if I don’t have to. The world would be better without them alive. I can’t do it, though. Not on purpose. Not with intent. 

Her bleached hair sticks to her cheeks as she shivers between the barrels, crouching down low in what, I assume, is an effort to hide herself. Her skin is so pale that it looks nearly translucent, and I have to wonder if it’s natural or if she’s sickly. My bet’s on sickly, and definitely underfed. My jaw tightens, and I exhale smoke to the side, knocking my boot against the side of the barrel in front of her. She jumps and falls on her ass, staring up at me with wide, terrified eyes. The same ones she’d worn in the alley. Her eyes are the palest blue I’ve ever seen.

“It’s me,” I say quietly.

“B-Blood--”

My eyes flick over her, and then down to my hands. I touch my face. Right. Pressing my tongue into the inside of my cheek, I lift my sleeve to wipe what I can off of my cheeks and mouth, but I know it just smears it. The rain water probably helps wash some of it away. The girl stays low to the cobblestones, trembling from head to toe. 

“D-Did you k-kill them?” she stammers, and I shake my head.

“No. But they won’t be bothering you again, okay? I promise.” 

I’m grateful that my voice is softer than I anticipated it being. It seems to put her at some sort of ease, too, since she slowly starts to stand back up. The streetlight nearby is flickering. Reaching into the small bag I was carrying, I take out a red, heart-shaped lollipop and hold it out to the girl. She eyes it, and then my face, shrinking back a little. My cigarette falls from my lips, and I grind the butt out with my heel before sitting on one of the barrels.

“Good. Don’t accept candy from strangers. Stranger danger one-oh-one, right?” I pull the plastic off of the lollipop and slip it into my mouth, squinting down the road. It was dead, considering how late at night it was. Everyone was asleep, or working. We weren’t in the nice part of the town. The tailor is where I got my dancing costumes from-- the ones I wear to dance at Alfie’s club. 

“Who are you?” the girl asks me after a moment, and I look over to her. 

“They call me Cherry,” I reply. “Willing to bet they gave you a different name, too, right? What is it?” 

She pauses, chapped and bruised lips opening, closing. I wait. This is her rodeo, now. I won’t push her. She’s in shock. That much is obvious. I don’t have any clothes that aren’t as soaked as hers, or otherwise I’d hand her something to warm up in. The anger that had been searing in me is replaced by an ache. I know those eyes. I had those eyes. I wonder if hers had looked half so hopeful as mine did when I was her age before it was dashed. But right now, she’s afraid, and justifiably so. 

“T-They call me Jewel.” It’s then that I notice she has an accent. It isn’t super strong, but it’s definitely there. Doman? The words come in a mumble, along with a vague gesturing at the scales along her arms. They’re iridescent, pretty, shimmering almost like a sea shell. Jewel. Straightforward enough. I nod slowly, swinging my legs idly back and forth on the barrel.

“Alright. And what’s your real name?” I turn my gaze back over to the Raen, and she blinks. She does’t look... okay, but she doesn’t have the same terror-stricken expression on her face as she did in the alley. Tough kid.

“I-I... Iwa.” She whispers it, like it might curse her if she says it too loudly. “Iwa Hatake.” 

“Iwa Hatake,” I repeat, and click my tongue. “Pretty. Iwa Hatake, are your parents around? A guardian? How long have you been with those men?”

I watch her swallow, and I continue to wait. This isn’t easy. This much I know. If anyone had come up to me after my first night... I don’t know that I wouldn’t have run from them, avoided them, gone right back to Alfie to hide. I like to think that I would have listened, would have tried to escape if they offered me an out, but who the fuck knows, right? Fourteen year old me was unpredictable. And scared out of her godsdamned mind. 

“My parents are both around,” she replies slowly. “T-Those men, they took me away-- stole me out of t-the market and put a cloth over my mouth that made me fall asleep. S-Seven days? I think it’s been seven days...” 

Kidnapped. Alright. She was given no illusions of grandeur. This might make things easier. 

“Iwa, do you have a good relationship with your parents? Are they lookin’ for you right now?”

At my question, she nods quickly and looks down at her hands. Her head hangs low, like she’s ashamed, and I frown. I slide off of my barrel. The rain is letting up into just a soft drizzle, now. I push my heart-shaped lollipop into my cheek and look down at Iwa’s feet; one bare, one still constricted by an ill-fitting high heel. 

“Yes... Yes. I’m sure that they are very worried and upset,” she mumbles. “Mama and papa didn’t want me going to the market by myself. They said twelve is too little, a-and I thought it wasn’t, and I insisted on it, and n-now this happened...”

“Hey.” I slip through the barrels to stand in front of her, and she falls back a step before looking like she immediately regrets it. I want to praise her for it. Don’t trust anyone, Iwa, not even the ones who seem like they’re trying to help you. Not unless you know they can be trusted, without a shadow of a doubt.

“It isn’t your fault. Okay? Those men, they look for girls that are all by themselves, that look like they’re lost. But that isn’t your fault. You’re new here, to the city, right? Of course you’re gonna look a little lost. The problem is not you. The problem is them, Iwa. Alright? Don’t blame yourself. Your mom and dad aren’t gonna be mad at you. They’re gonna be real fuckin’ glad when you turn back up, and I’m gonna make sure you do. Promise.”

Iwa stares up at me, silently, still shaking. I keep my gaze fixed on her, and I hope to the gods that it’s... gentle. That there isn’t as much anger in it as I’m actually feeling. Her lips part and close again, and she visibly swallows. I don’t blame her. How would I have dealt with a blood-soaked stranger offering promises to help me from the shit position I’ve been thrust into? 

“H-He said... the Lalafell man... He said I only had to work for a little while, and then he would bring me back to my parents. He said I could keep a lot of the gil. And we don’t... have much. I could help us pay off our debts--”

“No.” I cut her off, close my eyes. A lie. A pretty, pretty lie that she’d been sold. How dare he? How fucking dare he? 

“I’m... I want to help you, Iwa. I was like you. I was a little girl, but I didn’t have the benefit of anyone who gave a shit, okay? I work the same job as those men were trying to make you work, and I have been stuck in it for the last six years. Once you get in, once you get in deep, it sure as fuck ain’t easy to get back out. I need you to listen to me. And I need you to believe me. The pay was probably good, right? They gave you good money? Gave you drugs?” 

She nods numbly.

“That shit stops as soon as they get you used to it all. They take your gil. If you don’t listen, they beat you. If you do listen, they sometimes still beat you, just because they can. To remind you who’s in charge. They tell you, at first, that you have a list of things you will and won’t do with your clients. That list gets whipped into the trash after about six moons. You do what they tell you to do, how they tell you do it, and if you come crying to them about a client, unless he’s bruised you or hurt you and made you less pretty, you get slapped for complaining.

“The drugs are to keep you complacent. They get you hooked, and that’s part of how they make you stay. They make sure no dealer will give them to you. All of these motherfuckers, they run in the same circles. The pimps, they have a lot of gil, they have a lot of power, and they have a lot influence. Yours? His brother is one of the highest ranking Brass Blades in the entirety of Thanalan. I know you’re upset, I know you’re scared, and I know I’m scaring you more. But I’m going to tell you the reality of this whether you wanna hear it or not, Iwa. 

“You are a child. You are a little girl. This is not a job for little girls. And the clients who come looking for little girls? They’re the worst of the fucking worse. Scum. They deserve worse than death. Iwa... I can help you. I know people who can help you, and who will bring you back to your mom and your dad. You don’t want to worry them anymore, right? You miss your bed, you miss your parents, you miss your home and your friends, don’t you?”

I stare at her. She is staring at her feet, shaking hard. I don’t know if this is right way to talk to her. I don’t know if tough love is what will work. But I can’t-- I can’t walk away from this. I can’t walk away knowing I let another me happen. I can’t walk away, knowing that this child will have everything ripped and ruined. 

“Iwa.” My voice is soft again, and I lean down to look at her face. “Iwa... you want to go home, right? Be honest with me. It’s okay. I know you’re scared right now, and so I won’t tell you to trust me. I know that might be hard. But believe me when I say... I know what this is like. And I don’t want to see it happen to you, too. I don’t want you to grow up like me.” 

Broken, damaged, angry. A burden on myself, on the people I care about.

I don’t expect what comes next. I don’t expect the girl to start bawling, for her to throw her scrawny arms around me and press her face into my chest. I blink and look down at her. Her hair had been brown before they bleached it platinum; I can see it in her roots. Slowly, my arms come around her until I’m embracing her tightly. There’s a lump rising in my throat. I expected her to tell me no, to tell me to go away, to even run from me. This... I wasn’t prepared.

“I want to go home,” she weeps into my sweater. “I don’t want those men to touch me anymore.”

“They won’t, Iwa. They aren’t going to. I’m going to bring you somewhere safe, with really nice people that make sure girls and boys who have been taken away from their families get to go back to them. Come on. It’s not too far. They’ll give you a hot bath and clean clothes and we’ll see about finding your mom and your dad. It’s okay, Iwa. It’s all gonna be okay.” 

I pray to the gods, to the kami, to whoever is listening... I pray that I’m right.

[tenscupcake]

Kingdom Hearts 3 - An Honest Review

I’d like to preface this review by saying I am an unabashed Kingdom Hearts geek. Like, through and through. I played KH1 when I was just a tween, and have picked up a copy every installment since (in some cases, even bought the entire console just to play that one game). I still have CDs of the game soundtracks, a few discs which have nearly burnt out on replay in my car. Sanctuary After the Battle will forever make me cry, whether or not I’m watching the cutscene that goes along with it. I’ve replayed most of the titles multiple times. Wasted away hours on YouTube watching Story So Far recaps and funny commentaries about the games in preparation for KH3. Like millions of other enthusiasts, I have been eagerly and patiently (all right, sometimes not so patiently) awaiting the arrival of KH3 since the moment I first finished KH2 – 13 very, very long years ago.

At around eight o’clock on premiere night, I took my place in line at my local GameStop wearing my Kingdom Hearts t-shirt and pajama pants, brandishing the miniature Kingdom Key clipped to my lanyard. Finally holding that blue case in my hands was absolutely surreal. One of those natural highs it took me hours to come down from. Tears welled up in my eyes at the first few somber piano keys as the title screen faded into view.

Lots of people asked me, in the weeks and even months leading up to the release (because believe me, at any opportunity, I would not shut up about how excited I was about this game), if I thought it would live up to the hype. Pfft, I thought. People outside the KH fandom never understand. Of course it will. Sure, the series has had its weak links, its hiccups (the battle system in COM and the perpetual re-releases of old games with minor tweaks, to name a couple). But with the compelling cinematic storytelling and uniquely delightful gameplay of the main series’ smash hits - KH1, KH2, and BBS – in their repertoire, I knew the team at Square was capable of pulling this off. To me, it was just a given that it would be epic. That playing it would be worth all the years of waiting. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind this game was going to be lit. As. Hell.

I’m only saying all this so as not to give the impression I went into this game looking to find flaws, to nitpick it. Or with the expectation of being disappointed. In fact, quite the opposite.

I wanted to love this game. To me, loving KH games is one of very few constants in my life. I was supposed to love this game. I needed to love this game.

But the truth is, I didn’t.

That statement has been pretty difficult for me to come to terms with.

In what few early reviews and videos I’ve found of people discussing their thoughts on the game, I’ve found fans to be quite split: with some unreservedly loving, others downright hating the game.

I fall somewhere in the middle of the polarized fandom. I did NOT hate the game. It was actually a good, if not great game. But putting it on a sliding scale of satisfaction and disappointment, I would say it’s tipping toward the latter. And as it’s taken me hours of mulling, reading, and discussing with other players to characterize and articulate precisely why, and because I think I owe it not only to the series and the characters therein, but also my younger self to leave no stone unturned, this review is going to be a long one.

I’m finding it easiest to break it down by category:

Graphics.

This game is beautiful. It was sort of a dream come true to meander around in real time with the gorgeously, smoothly animated versions of Sora and the gang that we’d previously only been able to see in the rare cinematic cutscenes at each game’s beginning and end. Most of the Disney and even Pixar worlds and characters are rendered to nearly the same quality as their film counterparts. I often found myself just standing in place for a while, admiring it all. The vivid green landscapes of Corona, the beaches and sprawling sea in the Caribbean, the towering cityscape of San Fransokyo. And walking on water where the sky meets the sea? Stunning.

Gameplay.

All in all, this game is pretty damn fun to play. It was all I thought about during long days at work: I couldn’t wait to jump back into the action. Pounding on Heartless still brings me back to the good old days. And who doesn’t want to run up the side of buildings as Riku and Roxas demonstrated so epically, so long ago, in the World That Never Was? Soar to sky-high Heartless as easily as you can lock onto them? These new movement aspects brought an almost superhero-esque quality to the game, reminiscent of Spider-man’s wall-crawling or Batman’s grappling hook, that, if a bit unrealistic, I found to be immense fun. And compared to previous games, worlds are no longer cordoned off into many separate areas, and with the sheer scale of them, KH3 experiments with a quasi-open-world style that is rather freeing.

I also really appreciate that the character interactions with your party and with NPCs felt much less clunky. For one thing, they FINALLY did away with the press X-to-progress text-only conversations that were so prevalent in previous games, with all the dialogue left to voice actors. Even minor NPCs that only show up one time were given a voice, making every interaction that much more immersive. Transitions from cutscenes to the action were also much more fluid, and Sora and his current teammates talk to one another as you pow around. Even if it’s just a warning from Goofy you’re going the wrong way, or a heads-up from Donald there’s an ingredient or lucky emblem nearby, it was still a new feature I was glad to have.

Combat-wise, this game has a lot going for it. This installment brings nearly all the combat styles we’ve seen up until this point: magic, combos, form changes, flowmotion, shotlock, companion team-ups, and links. And it even introduces a few new ones on top of all this: the ability to swap between three different keyblades at will, and the new Disney parks-inspired attraction commands, where you can summon roller coasters, tea cups, and spinning carousels to your heart’s content. What this enables is for the player to never get bored during a battle. With so many options to choose from in each new enemy encounter, you never have to stick with the same combat style or get stuck in a rut of just mashing X to hack and slash everything. All things considered, Sora’s got some pretty sick moves this time around. Whipping out Thundaza, watching lightning explode across the screen and zap all the enemies in sight with it? Wicked. Floating above the ground, wreaking ethereal, glowing havoc with the Mirage Staff? Awesome. Surrounded by a sea of Heartless, locking onto 32 different targets at once and unleashing a flurry of lasers to slash through them all? Amazing. Thumbs getting fatigued fighting the third maddening iteration of Xehanort? Give yourself a break from the chaos in a giant, technicolor pirate ship, watching it thwack your adversary on every rock back and forth.

On one hand, the hefty damage most of these combat options deal gives the game an almost Ratchet and Clank-esque ‘blowing shit up’ vibe, which is undeniably fun. But, this array of choices does become a double-edged sword. With grand magic, attraction commands, form changes, and team attacks all fighting for space atop the command deck, they tend to pile up quickly. It’s not at all uncommon to rack up three or four different situation commands after only about 30 seconds of fighting. Sometimes, the constant need to make a choice, especially in a busy battle, can be more of a burden than a blessing. Having to shift between situation command selections on top of attacking, blocking, and accessing your shortcuts can be a bit cumbersome.

Unlike in previous games, there also aren’t many consequences for over-using special attacks. In KH2, your drive gauge ran out and needed to be slowly refilled. You also ran the increasingly high risk of morphing into the near-helpless Anti-Sora by relying too much on drive forms. But here, no matter how many times you’ve used a special attack, your MP will reload in a few seconds, and you can easily just ignore the situation command for Rage Form when it pops up. In BBS, it felt like it took a good while to power up to a form change, whereas in KH3 it seems like you can spend just as much time in a powered-up keyblade form change as in regular combat.

And, because so many of these situation commands are so powerful and frequent, they tend to dominate the entire battle, making the combat in the game much easier than previous games. Bordering on too easy. Where in other entries in the main series, I usually had to die several times on each boss in Proud mode before I devised the right strategy to defeat them, I rarely died at all in this game. On the surface, that isn’t such a bad thing. As I like to say a lot of the time, when I play a game “I’m here for a good time, not a hard time.” But there comes a point when the combat is so easy that it no longer gives you that sense of accomplishment when you progress past a tough batch of heartless or a particularly merciless boss – you know, that punching the air, whooping to yourself sort of pride. I was definitely missing that, at times.

Believe it or not, I think the Disney attraction commands, though powerful, and at first hilarious, were a bit too extra. After only a few hours in they just became annoying, and I was doing my best to ignore them when they popped up, even wishing I could turn them off. Now and then, I’d accidentally trigger the Blaster or the raft ride and just roll my eyes while canceling back out of it. Because it doesn’t really feel like you’re doing any fighting, let alone the real-time keyblade-style fighting uniquely special to this series. And forget trying to effectively aim while you’re in one. After a while the only thing I found them useful for was, as I mentioned earlier, taking a break from a fight when you’re fatigued, as they give your thumbs a break and cause you to take much less damage. While they were cool at first, my final impression of this addition to the combat was all flash, no substance.

I was one of the few who actually liked and took advantage of flowmotion in DDD, and was excited to see it brought back here. But this, too, turned out to be mostly another annoyance. I’m not sure if it’s because the actionable objects are so much more spread out in KH3, or because they actually built in restrictions on combos here, but I was unable to keep a flow going at all. After only one successful strike after leaping off a wall or pole, the blue glow of momentum vanished. It didn’t feel like “flowmotion” at all, just a one-and-done special attack that tended to kill any rhythm I had going moreso than facilitate it. So while conceptually and visually it was promising, I unfortunately no longer found it very useful.

Also, and I realize this is completely subjective, but I found the form changes to be stylistically underwhelming overall. I thought the drive forms in KH2 (especially Master and Final) were visually and stylistically cooler, and seemed to have more finesse.

Worlds.

When I was whisked away from San Fransokyo and landed in the final world of the game, I found myself disappointed by the number of worlds I’d been to, expecting there to be a handful more. Though, when I counted the worlds up, the tally was at nine. So I asked myself why it felt like so little, when nine didn’t seem like a small number. But, tallying up the worlds in previous games, KH1 had 13, KH2 had 15, and BBS had 10. Which does put KH3 on the low end of world count. Also, in all three of these previous games (especially KH2 and BBS), you had to return to these worlds more than once, usually unlocking new content and/or areas each time, leading it to feel like there were more worlds than there actually were. Though KH3 has a comparable length of gameplay to complete the story, it definitely does feel like it comes up short in terms of variety of worlds you get to visit. As a result, some of the worlds where you spend 3 or 4 hours at a time can start to feel like they’re dragging on a little bit. And on the flipside of that, there are certain worlds that you technically do visit in KH3 I did not include in the world count, because you are there for such a fleeting amount of time, or in such a tiny portion of the world – e.g. Land of Departure, the Realm of Darkness. Worlds that would have been awesome to get to actually explore! And perhaps the biggest letdown of all, though you get to visit Destiny Islands and Radiant Garden via cutscenes, there is no play time in either. Serious bummer.

As far as the worlds they did choose to include, the selection admittedly left me ambivalent. I was really glad to see Toy Story, Monsters Inc., and Big Hero 6 included, but wasn’t over the moon about any of the others. I was really counting on having a Wreck-It-Ralph world (I mean, how perfect would that be?), and would love to have seen them tackle Zootopia, Wall-E, Meet the Robinsons, or the Incredibles. I’d even settle for a return to Halloween Town (shameless NBC fangirl, what can I say). The Emperor’s New Groove could have been pretty damn funny. Even A Bug’s Life or Finding Nemo could have offered some unique gameplay opportunities. Certainly better content to work with than Frozen, at any rate.

As far as the plot/experience within the worlds, I also found it to be a mixed bag. I did enjoy all of them, even ones I did not expect to enjoy too much (i.e. Frozen and Pirates). Honestly, though, I found myself a bit bored in worlds where they followed the plot of the films too closely, to the point that it felt like an abridged re-hash of the movies. I know they’ve taken this approach before with earlier Kingdom Hearts games, and I may sound like a hypocrite for only critiquing it now. But I think even in stories where they did do this earlier, like Tarzan or Aladdin, they executed the re-tellings more successfully. The plotline was altered just enough to ensure Sora was a part of the action through and through. After playing those games, Sora was indelibly inserted into those films in my head. To where the next time I watched them, I was jokingly asking myself “Where’s Sora?” But that was not the feeling I got here. In worlds like Corona or the Caribbean, Sora was just sort of jammed into the plot where he didn’t really fit. In many of the longer cutscenes, I actually forgot Sora was even there – even forgot I was playing Kingdom Hearts. Sora didn’t really feel needed. I definitely found it more enjoyable to be part of a new adventure with the characters – like what was done with Toy Story and Big Hero 6, where Sora was able to play more of an active role in progressing the subplot. It was nice to feel like I mattered!

Extras.

These were hit-or-miss for me. I actually screeched with excitement when Sora and the gang ran into Remy, and enjoyed the scavenger hunt for ingredients. And while cooking with little chef was a treat I wouldn’t want to see cut from the game, I found most of the cooking mini-games to be simultaneously too short (less than 10 seconds each!) and needlessly hard to master (especially cracking that egg).

Admittedly a Disney and Disneyland fanatic, I also got a kick out of the lucky emblems (aka hidden mickeys). I thought they were one of the most fun collectibles we’ve seen to date in the franchise.

Which brings me to one of the more controversial extras in the game: the gummiphone! While a lot of people are ragging on the inclusion of this dynamic, I enjoyed it. The Instagram loading screens were a little jarring at first, but they really grew on me. And being able to point the camera at Goofy, Sully, or Hiro and watch them pose for a picture in real-time was nothing short of adorable.

Another thing that surprised me? The game’s occasional self-awareness. I almost included a separate category for this, because I’ve never seen another game do this, and did not see it coming! But the “KINGDOM HEARTS II.9” title screen gave me a good chuckle. It doesn’t make up for all the 1.5, 2.8, 0.2 nonsense we’ve had to put up with, but it’s at least nice to see they can poke fun at their own ridiculousness. And when Sora laments how long it’s been since he’s seen the folks in Twilight Town; then Hayner, confused and even a little creeped out, says “It hasn’t been that long”. Simply acknowledging the vast disconnect between the short time that’s passed in-universe since KH2 and how egregiously long the fans had to wait – well, it had me in stitches. It was morbid laughter, sure, but refreshing nonetheless.

Um, the folk dancing in the square in Corona? Literal funniest thing ever.

One thing that I really missed? Closing keyholes. Finishing worlds wasn’t the same without them.

At this point in the review, I’ve covered basically every aspect I can think of save for one: the story. I’ve purposely saved it for last, because it’s the most important aspect of the series to me, the one that can make or break a Kingdom Hearts game.

From the categories I’ve judged thus far – content, visuals, gameplay, extras – I’d probably give this game a solid 8 or 9/10. I had some issues with the overly cluttered combat, the difficulty level, and the slight disappointment with which worlds were included and the ways they chose to play out the subplots in each. But in the grand scheme of things, all these complaints are minor, and don’t detract from the fact that it’s just plain fun, in a new league with some of the most entertaining and most beautiful titles out there.

But that’s exactly it. Beautiful graphics are the new bare minimum for this generation of console gaming. If a game released for the PS4 or Switch isn’t visually outstanding, it runs a real risk of faltering behind the competition. There is no shortage of beautiful games on the market in 2019.

And if I want a fun game, I can pop back into Mario Odyssey or get a group together to duke it out in Super Smash Ultimate. I can easily download a dozen fun platformers on Steam for less than 50 bucks.

Yes, KH3 is really beautiful, and really fun.

But that’s not why I was so excited to play it.

A legion of kids and teenagers stuck with this series well into their twenties and thirties, never giving up on the release of the next installment. Trudged through handheld games and blocky graphics and clunky battle systems and convoluted plot lines. Why? Well, of course I can’t speak for all KH fans, but for me, and all the ones I know personally, it’s because of the story. It’s always been what, in my mind, sets KH apart from any other video game I’ve ever played. It’s the only game series that’s ever made me cry. The only one I’ve ever owned merchandise for. The only one I’ve ever been so invested in that I can discuss it with friends, even acquaintances, for hours on end. The only one that’s made me care so much about the characters that they feel like my friends. With how much time has passed since I started, maybe even my kids. No pun intended, the series has heart. It contains the same sort of magic that going to Disneyland as a child did. Or, it used to.

Kingdom Hearts 3 didn’t need to just be a great game. It needed to be a Kingdom Hearts game. One that built a wove a compelling story filled with intrigue and emotion from the first hour. One that did justice to all the characters (and by now, there are a lot of them) that we’ve grown to love over the last 17 years. One where a prepubescent kid can yell a speech up at a threatening villain that makes you believe, harder than you’ve ever believed, in the power of friendship. One that instills a childlike optimism that no matter how dark the world gets, as long as someone keeps fighting, good can still triumph over evil. One that tugs on the heartstrings in just the right ways, at just the right moments, to manage to make you cry – repeatedly – over a gang of outspoken, angsty kids with clown feet.

The thing about the story in KH3 is: it’s not inherently a bad story. Sure, it’s a mess, it doesn’t make much sense, it leaves you with more questions than answers, it’s incredibly cheesy, and it retcons a good deal of lore from previous installments. But many of these things could be said of other Kingdom Hearts games. The fact that these descriptors apply to KH3 isn’t what disqualifies it as a worthy entry in the series, in my mind.

For the most part, it’s not the story itself I found disappointing. After all, think about how a summary sounds on paper: reunions with long lost characters, long-awaited battles, conclusions of lengthy character and story arcs. 

The biggest problem wasn’t so much the concept of the story, but rather the execution.

First of all, the pacing. The pacing was terrible. Almost nothing happens the first 20-25 hours of the game. I can think of maybe two scenes that got me on the edge of my seat, gripping my controller in the hopes it would advance the plot further: the scene with Mickey and Riku in the realm of darkness where you get to play as Riku for a few minutes (sadly the only time in the game that you do), and running into Vanitas in Monstropolis. Nothing. Else. Happened. Sure you run into Larxene in Arendelle, and goof around chasing Luxord in the Caribbean, but none of this is actually relevant to the plot we care about. Certainly not the plot the story is telling us to care about from the beginning.

And that leads me to the second issue – how vague your objective actually is. The ultimate objective of the game seems clear enough: rescue Aqua from the realm of darkness, maybe worry about the other two Wayfinder trio once we’ve found her, and defeat Xehanort. But this is not Sora’s given objective. Rather, it’s to find the ‘power of waking.’ Which is not explained, either to Sora or the player. Sora, on the other hand, appoints himself to another mission entirely: contemplating the unfairness of Roxas’ disappearance, he seems to mainly be focused on finding him and restoring him to a physical existence. However, this mission is starkly at odds with the canonical explanation of Nobodies in general and Roxas, specifically. The last time we saw Roxas (chronologically speaking) he reunited with Sora, and as far as we know, he’s still part of Sora. So, the mission to “find” Roxas as if he exists as an entity in the real world is perplexing. Second, lacking hearts, Nobodies can’t exist as a whole on their own. So even assuming we can “find” him in Sora, how far we going to bring him back without splintering Sora into a Heartless and a Nobody again? Even according to the series’ own complex lore, it doesn’t make sense. Therefore, the first half or more of the game seems aimless, not really knowing what we’re meant to be doing, or how. It’s hard to be invested in a story with no clear objective. Not something we can easily get on board with like “Find Riku and Kairi” or “Track down the Organization.” Just “Go find the power of waking.” Okay.

And while a lot (and I mean a lot) happens in the last 4-5 hours of the story to tie up loose ends, it’s crammed together in such a jumbled rush that it’s almost impossible to appreciate any of it.

After collecting Aqua and Ventus, long lost characters reappear on screen one right after another assembly-line style, to the point that none of them feels special or poignant anymore.

Not only that, but the characters who are brought back, many of them beloved protagonists from earlier installments in the series, are not given any time to shine.

It was promising when they let Aqua fight Vanitas in the newly restored Land of Departure. Ven is her friend, her responsibility; it was her fight. But with this taste of getting back a playable character from the franchise, I expected that as the plot progressed, it would open up plenty more chances for past protagonists to take the stage. That we’d be able to step back into the oversized shoes of other playable characters we’d missed. That when (or if) others returned in all their glory, they’d get to strut their stuff.

But that is precisely the opposite of what happened.

I mean, Ventus didn’t get to steal the spotlight for the final clash with Vanitas? By definition, his natural foil?

Terra didn’t get to exact his revenge in an epic showdown with Xehanort, the guy who stole his body and enslaved him for more than a decade?

Roxas and Axel, reunited, couldn’t team up to pound on the Organization members that tormented them? Instead, after his surprise entrance, Roxas got hardly any screen presence at all, and Axel’s epic new flaming keyblade got destroyed, making him sit out most of the fighting after all the build up that he was training to fight?

Oh, and you know who else was utterly useless through the final battles, demoted once again to a damsel in distress despite years of hype that she’d wield a keyblade in this installment, and multiple cutscenes indicating she, too, was training to actually fight? Yup. I don’t even need to say the name.

And to only get one small boss fight as Riku, when in the previous installment he had half the screen time?

The heroes we’ve missed for so long and longed to return to the screen are not resurrected with the dignity and respect they deserve. They are relegated to side characters, who are either completely sidelined for the final battles, or else just hacking away mindlessly in the background as you marathon one ridiculously easy “boss” after another Olympus Coliseum-style.

Speaking of resurrecting characters: the manner in which they brought some of them back was so nebulous it was impossible to understand, let alone experience any sort of emotional reaction.

For one: Roxas. For starters, it’s pretty lazy writing to have Sora be the one pursuing his return (however that was supposed to happen), only to have that pursuit peter out completely, and for Roxas to just appear at the final battle with no resolution or explanation of how. (Nor the satisfaction of fleshing out how Sora achieved it.) But more importantly, where did he come from? There was no scene in which he emerged from Sora’s being. So, where was he? Also, I get that they must have used the replica Demyx/Ansem brought Ienzo as a vessel for him, but how does he have his own heart now? There was no evidence to indicate Sora or Ven lost theirs again. This is a pretty glaring plot hole.

Second? Naminé. This one really came out of left field. No one had even spoken about Naminé the entire game, save one throwaway line. Then all of a sudden, near the very end of the game, everyone cares about bringing her back, too? Even Sora, despite his hours-long obsession with bringing back Roxas without a word about Naminé, sees a newly empty vessel and asks “Oh, is that for Naminé?” All I could do at this point was laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

Even more confusing? Xion. She was a replica, with no heart, no personality... a walking vial for Sora’s memories. How on Earth did she get brought back? What was there to bring back? And what was the point? Xion always felt far more like a plot device than an actual character.

At this point, so little made sense and so many characters had appeared in a row with no regard for continuity or maintaining canon that my heart was really starting to sink. It all felt like it was meant to be fan service. Bring back everyone’s favorite characters: they’ll love that, right? But the issue is they did it no matter what rules they had to break, or canon they had to ignore. Sure, I wanted a lot of these characters back, I think a lot of people did. But not at the expense of good writing.

Even if one completely excuses the hole-filled poor writing that got us there, it didn’t even feel real that we had these awesome characters back. Because they just sort of existed, as high-def cool anime hair and porcelain skin and not much else. Not only did they not get to show us what they’re made of in epic fight sequences, but there was no meaningful dialogue from any of them. Where was Terra giving his friends any sort of recollection of his time as Ansem’s guardian? Riku and Roxas making amends? Aqua thanking Sora for keeping Ven safe? A brofest about protecting their friends between Riku and Terra? Axel saying anything at all meaningful to his best friend when he finally saw him again? For all the reunions we got, it was shocking how little substance there actually was in any of them. 

It was an insanely rushed ending, with stunted, shallow dialogue, and awkward tears that felt forced rather than genuine.

KH3 is to KH1&2 what Moffat Who is to RTD Who. A lot more flash, a lot less substance, and hollowed out characters that no longer provoke deep emotion.

Characters’ emotions were not handled well in this game. Like when Sora, notorious for being a persistent optimist, dissolves to hysterics and claims he’s “nothing” without his friends. But we never get to see this sharp departure from his M.O. (because he has lost his friends over and over throughout the series without reacting this way) really wrestled with. It’s just swept under the rug after a single line from Riku. It’s okay for characters to hit rock bottom: in fact, it’s good for them. But such episodes have to be properly fleshed out, or they won’t have an impact.

Also, just my two cents? Making your characters cry is not a shortcut to get your audience to cry. It’s a lazy way of demonstrating feeling. In the writing world, there’s something called “show, don’t tell.” Making characters cry left and right with hardly any time devoted to the proper dialogue and action is the equivalent of telling, rather than showing. This series is unique to me precisely because it’s the only video game to make me cry (repeatedly). But I didn’t shed a tear in this game. And I think that is so telling. I always think of this behind the scenes video I watched for Doctor Who, in which they filmed different versions of a (very) emotional scene. In one of these versions, the Doctor properly breaks down and cries. David (the actor) upon seeing this version played back to him, said: “I worry if you see him breaking down, it stops you breaking down, as well.” He was onto something there. They didn’t end up using that take in the episode, and I think everyone would agree it was the right call. I’m not saying crying is inherently bad and always to be avoided. In fact, the opposite: it can be very powerful if used sparingly, and at the right moments with the right build-up. But overusing it, with no apparent regard for characterization nuances, basically making it your only method for tell your audience a character is emotional? It’s a little insulting. You also need good dialogue, good acting (or in this case, good animation and voice acting), and proper timing if you want to strike a chord with anyone.

Which, speaking of, I thought both the dialogue and the voice acting in the game as a whole left something to be desired (and seemed almost painfully slow?), and I think a big reason why emotional moments tended to ring hollow.

Onto another aspect of the story: how it ties in to earlier installments in the series. There was a fair amount of speculation going into this game whether or not smaller, handheld-console based installments and extra nuggets from mobile games and re-releases would be relevant in KH3. But regardless of which side of the argument fans fell on, the fact remains that many fans had only played KH1 and KH2, possibly BBS, prior to playing KH3. Many people don’t have the money or the interest in playing on multiple handheld consoles (me being one of them, though I toughed it out in this case) or cell phones, nor the tireless dedication and yes, more money, to purchase games a second time for Final Mix versions and secret endings. This is not a bad thing. It doesn’t mean they are bad fans, or less deserving of playing or enjoying KH3. Someone should not have to be a zealous super-fan to be able to enjoy a video game, or any form of entertainment. If you show up to Avengers: Endgame without having seen some of the previous major installments in the film franchise, you are probably going to be confused. I don’t recommend doing that. But is it necessary to have re-watched them all 20 times, speculated for hours on blogs and message boards, and read decades worth of Avengers comics to be able to understand it? Of course not. Though some insufferable comic book elitists insist they’re better than everyone else because they know more about the Marvel universe, the fact is you don’t have to be a Marvel super-fan to enjoy the films. That’s how it should be. Because it’s okay to be a casual fan of something. Content creators normally recognize this, and respect all of their audience. But here, there was critical information from pretty much every spinoff handheld game that you needed in order to have any idea what was going on. There wasn’t even any recap system like in KH2 (the static memories) to get you up to speed on what had happened in the series up until this point. Not to mention the location of the final boss fight, as well as the very last cutscenes centered around a mobile game/movie that I had never even heard of until I was in the middle of playing KH3. Now I am something of a KH geek as I said, so I’ve sat through Union Cross now and done my best to understand some of the more obscure lore. But, call me crazy, I don’t think it’s fair to expect every single person who plays the game to do that in order to understand it. Games are supposed to be fun, not homework.

Which brings me to my last point: this game was supposed to be the end of the saga as we know it. Whether it’s the end of the series or simply the end of this story arc and subsequent games will follow a villain besides the many iterations of Xehanort is yet to be seen (as of me writing this), but it was established this game would be the end to the main trilogy so far. And, to have that end be the main character swanning off on his own (as some have speculated, possibly to his death)? With everyone else from the series partying on the beach like someone important isn’t missing? As someone who came into this game expecting closure, I felt completely blindsided by this ending. After all he’s been through and all the sacrifices he’s made, Sora deserves better.

Kingdom Hearts 3 was visually and mechanically a blast, and credit should go to the developers, artists, and designers where credit is due. But as a fan who plays this series not for graphics or flashy gameplay, but to immerse myself in the story, I’m left feeling cheated. The way the plot unfolded and the way the characters were handled did a disservice to both long-time fans of the saga and to the characters themselves.

I always have a hard time with this, but if I had to put a number to it? I’d say maybe 6/10.

It hurt just to type that.

I’m not giving up hope in the franchise. If there’s ever a KH4 (which still seems unclear right now), I’ll probably still play it. I’m trying to give the creators the benefit of the doubt: they were under a lot of pressure to create a great game, and had too much time in development on their hands and too many sprawling ideas and tried to do too much at once. I’m all for second chances. But if they want the trust of fans like me back, they’re going to have to earn it.

Over the last couple months as I’ve put together this review, I’ve found myself in doubt. Even, dare I say it, like a bad fan, though in principle I vehemently reject the notion someone is a bad fan for disliking an installment of any franchise they love. Am I just too old for Kingdom Hearts now? I wondered. Was I romanticizing the series the whole time, and it’s not as good as I’ve built it up to be in my head? After all my time spent waiting, am I being too critical? I tortured myself over it. So, a couple of weeks after finishing KH3, I popped in the 1.5/2.5 HD compilation into the PS4 and restarted KH2. I had to see if it even came close to the hype I’d built in my head in the 8 or 9 years since I played it last. Almost 60 hours of gameplay later, I can say with confidence that I had not romanticized it at all. This game is amazing. I didn’t mind watching 30 minutes of cutscenes at a time because everything is so compelling. So the graphics are dated, but who cares? The combat is FUN without ever being cumbersome. It’s just the right level of difficulty that there are still some battles and bosses that require multiple attempts and the journey continuously instills a sense of pride and accomplishment. It has so much heart. I still teared up in the same places I used to as a teenager.

KH2 is still a perfect 10/10, and playing it again with fresh eyes only made me realize just how disappointing KH3 actually was.

There’s an old adage that it’s the things we love most that hurt us the most. I wouldn’t feel so let down, or compelled to write 6800 words why, if I didn’t love this series with all my heart. I’ve seen a lot of fans insulting and belittling anyone who dares to criticize the game online, and frankly I’m baffled by that. I critique and discuss all forms of entertainment I enjoy: and that includes both the strengths and weaknesses, the successes and flaws. And I guess I tend to associate with people who do the same. It doesn’t make us bad fans, but passionate ones. I’m not sending hate mail to Square telling them the game unequivocally sucks. I don’t have any ill will towards them or think they’re irredeemable writers or developers. I’m simply recording and posting my honest thoughts to help myself process how I’m feeling, and perhaps others if they choose to read them.

I’m genuinely happy for the fans who loved the game and felt it worth the wait – I don’t want to pick any fights with them (so please don’t pick any fights with me, either). I’m sadly - believe me, no one is sadder than me to admit this - just not one of them.

[derkastellan]

Review: Tales from the Loop, Part 1

OrSo, we’re two sessions in playing Tales from the Loop, the role-playing game set in an alternate 1980s’ Sweden. All in all a pleasant experience so far and an easy game to get into with comparatively minor flaws. We made characters and played the first scenario out of the four-scenario/four-season mini-campaign detailed in the main book, “Summerbreak and Killer Birds”.

Getting in character

First session was mostly character building. I was hoping for a swift run because it all looked extremely straight-forward, most of the time choosing a thing or two out of lists of two or three. Attributes and skill scores are rapidly distributed and things like age and name were settled quick...

Things you pick or make up are...

a Problem: A day-to-day-life trouble that dominates your life.

a Drive: Your motivation, especially why you'd want to go on adventures.

a Pride: What makes you special and stand out. Helps occasionally.

an Anchor: A person that makes you feel safe and understood. Refuge.

NPC relationships: People in the setting you have links to.

Each class (here called Type) has its own two or three suggestions for each item “or make up on your own”. Fair enough! After all, you should be able to relate to your character and its problems, people in their life, drives, etc.

Only... Though people could relate to their Type there was still a need to scavenge the lists of the others. Most of the items are suggestive and open enough. But a master list long at least double as long as the individual items of the Types combined would have been more useful. The Type descriptions give the impression you can pick fast (and some people might) but this is the part where you can really get bogged down... 

Not that I mind, really! I’d rather flesh out the details of a kid worth playing with the person stuck with it than fiddle with lots of scores and mechanical fiddling, especially since it often means helping someone make a choice who plays a system for the first time while having only a rough idea what their scores will amount to.

Rules 

Frankly, Tales from the Loop shines strongly in this regard. Its rules chapter is full of examples, short, and elegant. Always good to have a simple resolution mechanic:

Add skill and attribute score. 

Apply any bonus for items, help, or situation.

Roll as many d6.

All dice which show sixes are successes

Most tests pass with 1 success, some need 2, nigh-impossible requires 3 successes. Success above the required minimum buys additional effects. Most effects are suggested already in the skill descriptions.

But the shiny bit, the bit I appreciate the most, is a table showing how likely you are to succeed with how many dice. I’d rather tell my players the probability of success than having them guess. I’d guess badly myself if prompted when leaving the world of d20. If you want for example to have a fifty-fifty chance of making it you need 4 dice, 80% needs 9... So, a handy table!

And coming back to character creation I can tell players how their chance of success will be given the scores they put down, making an informed decision much easier.

The rules fit on 8 pages.

Introducing the Kids

Every mystery starts with scenes updating us about the everyday lives of kids. According to the advice in the books I let the players chose their scenes and played the scenes with them:

Making dinner for the family while the alcoholic dad sits by because mom is too sick to get up.

Getting into a fight because of being taunted by someone about a boy who has a crush on her.

Finding a sack with abandoned kittens by roadside and hiding them with mom from the estranged dad.

Coming late for dinner to find mom home alone again, smoking like a chimney stack, and querying the boy about his teammates’ dads.

I was quite pleased with how it turned out but hope to stay people more away from their family situations given that the group is 12 to 14 and will be 13 to 14 in the next session. 

I feel that there is a chance wasted here to set up rival kids, friends, crushes, etc in the character creation. The NPCs suggested are adventure hooks, not a real source of character play. It’s basically left to the GM to build this part during the “Questions” phase of making the Kids. 

A first mystery

The initial mystery from the four-adventure campaign played well enough. Problems arose around some minor details and the mechanics. A few spoilers follow after the page break, but only for the first adventure contained in the book and not other parts of the mini campaign.

So, it’s about stopping a scourge of birds made more intelligent and aggressive. I loved the illustration - blue tits sitting on mummified corpses and what not - that basically had nothing to do with the adventure... which was a bit disappointing.

So, two rogue scientists implant microchips into the brains of birds, enhancing them in unexpected ways. There’s a flock of increasingly aggressive and territorial birds. And the pigeons start... to talk. It works in an 80s’ story kind of way, cool stuff.

The players follow clues and find out more about what is doing it and end up stopping the whole thing. Some of the scenes set in the book do not connect directly to other scenes or yield little the players do not already know but they work to increase the mood considerably if you let them. 

Example: By the time the kids arrive at the ornithologist, they probably already know a lot. The thing here is that many things they can easily learn here don’t add to their knowledge (= “bird don’t behave like that”, duh). You can just reinforce what they know in many ways.

All the lonely people

But beyond that, NPCs behave in contradictory ways... The ornithologist kind of locks himself in his house, trying to kill his own birds. But before that he collects lots of useful information - the so-called recluse knows that a certain expert moved out of his house in a neighboring village, for example. He is like a collector of exposition, all done neatly off-screen, and after having done what is required to him, he goes to the state the players find him, that ensures he has no further hand in the adventure.

Similarly, Gunnar’s niece Majsan cycles around the island, observing the birds (so that players trip over her) but simultaneously has to hide from spying neighbors that suspect her of squatting. She is concerned about the birds and Gunnar is her uncle but she will not accompany the players to the showdown that involves both...

Another minor gripe is that there are two mentally disturbed characters in the adventure, Gunnar and Mats. Two out of three NPCs is a bit much. 

It’s also not convincing that Gunnar gets locked into the final location. Given his remaining supplies at the end of the adventure this would either eventually amount to murder by starving him or there must be more ways to leave (opening windows, a service hatch, etc). I can believe he’s too obsessed to leave, no problem. But I think he could, right?

Don’t call it combat

Another problem I found is the mechanics for showdowns. These are essentially light-weight combat rules. Players need to score a certain amount of successes within a limited number of self-chosen scenes. (Of course these scenes can be chases, ambushes, any kind, which is great!)

The goal is usually to achieve 2 or 3 successes per kid. A very strict reading of what little is written in that tight little section says each players gets one roll (and Things from the Flood seems to corroborate that) and scene to play it out in. I must admit I did not understand the mechanic well but also found it a poor fit for the situation, so I hope to put it to better use in the 2nd showdown. I simply went with the logic of the scene and players who played on the fact that one kid was the nephew of Gunnar’s love interest.

The mechanic, however, foresees that the kids make a plan but this can be safely ignored in this showdown because the kids don’t know the layout of the ship and about the presence and state of Gunnar, etc. You need information to make a plan! The 2nd adventure seems better in this regard. This first showdown would best be framed with each scene set in response to what they learn after they’re in. Still, the setup of this showdown is likely to put the kids in an extremely favorable position, narrative-wise. It’s not unreasonable to be able to lock themselves in the ship, keep the birds out, and beat up both Gunnar and the machine, for example. What my players did, however, left them on the good side of the mad scientist and made him a recurring character that lead out of a 2nd adventure minor plot hole (or more like plot lag).

Regarding the number of successes... even when engaged in some of their key skills, players often missed rolling a single six if at all any. Given that they need 2 or 3 sixes in each showdown I read so far, some conditions apply if they players actually want to win:

Ideally they get some bonus dice through equipment.

Sadly, their iconic items were almost all horribly out of place for this finale except for a sturdy leather jacket.

Save exactly one luck till the end. (You cannot re-roll twice.)

Have as many conditions available to still check to trade for successes if you need to push for a compromise.

Have as little conditions checked yet to roll high.

In other words, pushing for the finale when being not in a good shape is a bad idea. Having a moment with another kid or even your anchor if possible is a great idea, like encouraging a scared kid or calming an upset one. Being able to push a roll and re-roll fails with Luck seems vital here. The likelihood of having to push for a compromise is still rather high for the tougher threat levels requiring 3 or 4 sixes per player.

An extended example would have been most welcome here. Neither Tales from the Loop nor Things from the Flood contain one for this key mechanic. I do not speak from experience here, but it is still mechanically simple enough to reason it out.

The good thing here is you can pick your role and play to your strengths. The Jock fends off birds, for example. You get to maximize your dice and if I prepare in any way, that should help a lot.

I was pleased, however, with playing the end in a way that did not force an Extended Trouble on this scene.

Conclusion

Tales from the Loop is fun to play. The mechanics do not get in the way. Stories are simple, the Sweden of the 80s makes a cool setting. Unless you really push for short scenes the whole “play one mystery in one session” thing probably won’t work out. Knowing my group I didn’t expect it to.

According to the rules-as-written Luck points don’t seem to re-generate, but I like rewards for cool and engaged play. Kids that go out of their way to do right by others need some reward, right? Good karma.

The terse description of Extended Trouble leaves it to the GM to hash out what the consequences of these rules are. This is something I abhor in most RPGs: They give you the rules and at best they explain them well. But they don’t explain how they play together. In The One Ring I had to figure out the fine-tuned interplay between Hope and Fellowship in order to tell them to my players. It would help if some hints were given to a winning strategy when dealing with rules. Tales from the Loop goes part of the way by at least telling you how likely you are to score any success (but omits the tables for more successes...).

In a game in many ways as simple as this one there should have been room for going this extra mile. I assume play-testers and authors gain this understanding and should try to transmit it to GMs in the least and also players at best.

Still, I’m three sessions in and I love the characters and setting. Will write more about the next session soon.