#and he DID set it up as a mystery to be solved let's not lie

[goldenkid]

my latent rtd haterisms emerging after that season finale

[sayoneee]

☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vandanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside. 

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.” 

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him. 

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy. 

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash. 

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed. 

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side. 

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces. 

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you. 

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew. 

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual. 

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands. 

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands. 

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention. 

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder. 

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him. 

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars. 

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish. 

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes. 

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[haine-kleine]

how about a canon divergence where Dabi didn't have to deal with the humiliation of sharing his deepest traumas in an effort to make the general public be more critical of the heroes and wasn't as a result condemned for his sincerity and made a scapegoat not only for the Todoroki family but now for the entire Japan.

let his plan be more refined than traumadumping on tv and don't make him paint a giant target on his own back he will never be able to get rid off by revealing his identity to everyone. let him act according to his knowledge of endeavor and manipulate him, let his plan have an end goal and not be a last desperate scream for sympathy and attention to the horrors he went through.

say, instead of a broadcast he releases a video on an online platform. in that video he starts telling the life story of Todoroki Touya, Endeavor's eldest son who disappeared under mysterious circumstances. he says that ten years ago he found that little boy all alone, crying his eyes out on Sekoto peak. that boy was so pathetically lonely and desperate for validation he told him his entire life story. little Touya was so heartbroken he said that Endeavor abandoned him, didn't want to have a son he couldn't train to become a hero, his quirk and body incompatible, set up from the start by unfortunate quirk marriage. he begged Dabi to kill him. and so he did just that. the oh so fast and efficient number two hero was so slow to the rescue of his own son, by the time he got there only ashes remained of him, and oh how loudly Touya screamed for him...

Dabi has white hair in that video. it's a challenge - one he knows Enji won't take. he knows that his death was a mystery no one has been able to solve, and he presents an answer. it's a lie, of course, but it still hurts seeing how eagerly Endeavor jumps at the offered out. well, at least his little stunt gave even more publicity to the League, propelling him from a nobody of a villain to the one number two hero has personal vendetta with. the attention is nice, really.

when he comes to take the noumu and Endeavor almost kills him on sight, he almost chokes himself on his laughter without any help from his father.

'i will tell you a secret, Endeavor. not even Shigaraki knows this, so consider yourself special', he drawls and points to the noumu's charred remains. 'these things, you know what they're made of? top secret info, right here!'.

he takes his sweet time making a pause for dramatic effect, his insides fluttering at the look of pure hatred on his father's burned, bleeding face.

'the raw material is children with strong quirks. Touya was quite a find, you know!'.

he can't help grinning at how quickly anger transforms into shock.

'he is... alive?' the unbelieving, earnest hope that Enji can't contain despite his caution makes his glee turn sour.

Dabi wants to spread his arms wide, do a twirl, maybe, push his hair away from his face. 'Look at me, Endeavor!' he wants to scream at his father, an ancient unanswered prayer to his idol, 'look at me and see me!'.

the fight in him is gone. he shrugs, and calls for Ujiko.

'dunno', he replies to Enji before leaving. 'far as i know they're still keeping him'.

later, when when a visibly ruffled Shigaraki asks him why is he doing this to himself, Dabi bites on his tongue but can't hide the steam that starts coming out of his seams. he still does a good job of pretending to be unbothered and with all of Compress' flair says:

'why, it's all for the sake of the League's glory, of course'.

Shigaraki, in turn, doesn't even bother hiding his expressive eye roll.

[lucianhuntress]

Day 6. Sephiroth x Reader: 56. “The only place I feel safe in is your arms.”

This one was a tough cookie in terms of husbando + prompt combo, but I ended up using my old FFVII Office AU.

Being Sephiroth’s secretary certainly isn't easy; he is cold, demanding and extremely rude. He is mostly indifferent towards the rest of your coworkers and he always makes sure to send an extra amount of pain and suffering via emails, which he keeps sending to you even if he sits next to you in a meeting.

There's also the other side of the coin of working for Sephiroth: he is exceptional in bed. 

Yes, there is a bit of a contradiction there and he knows it, you know it— but the rest of the office, nor the higher ups, don't. Just how you two even ended up together is a mystery you can't solve.

After another emergency meeting at your small apartment you two lie in bed, exhausted but blissful. The rays of the setting sun dance on his skin as he rests his head on your chest, while your hand brushes absentmindedly his long, silvery hair. 

Sephiroth has only recently grown more affectionate, so moments like this are rare. 

“The only place I feel safe in is your arms,” he mumbles, his cyan eyes shut and he almost behaves like a cat, purring away in your embrace.

You nearly choke on pure air as you register his confession, you are used to much milder ones, like: “you're not completely useless,” or “your hair looks alright.” 

“Did I hear correctly?” You ask with a bated breath.

He glances at you through his lashes and growls: “do not expect me to repeat myself.”

“You've never been so nice to me before,” you ponder out loud, feeling suddenly warm on the inside. At work he is the most sadistic boss you could ever imagine, but behind the scenes he can be completely different.

Sephiroth lets out a groan, regretting his confession now. “Don't get ahead of yourself with this bit of information.”

“Now, only if you were nicer to me at work,” you sigh dreamily. Something tells you that you can keep on dreaming.

“Then the whole building would know what I do to you outside work hours.” 

“Emergency meetings?” You giggle and lean in to brush his slightly pink eartip with your lips.

“Exactly.”

[jerzwriter]

To Love & over Protect - Tobias x Casey HC

It took me three years to tell the story of how my messy kids finally got together. By the time they did, they were so in love with a solid foundation of friendship beneath them. The honeymoon period was intense; however, nothing is perfect, and transitioning from friends to so much more comes with its challenges. So, I decided it was time to finally write those stories, too. The first story was Money, Money and this second was a little jealous. This may be the last one, but never say never!

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,900 Summary: The chemical attack was over six months ago, and Casey is trying to adjust to her new normal with her new boyfriend at her side. The problem is? He thinks he needs to be there 24/7, and as sweet as it is, Casey needs him to understand, she can still take care of herself.

Tobias x Casey Masterlist Open Heart Masterlist Full Masterlist

Tobias glanced at his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. Finally, the confirmation arrived, but not the one he wanted to see. The car he had arranged to pick Casey up from work at Edenbrook was stuck in traffic in Charlestown and wouldn’t be there on time. In fact, it was unlikely he’d be there for another hour.

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning back in his office chair.

He’d ask her to wait, but he knew her too well. She’d tell him she knew how to get home and that she had managed to do so before he came into her life. She could take the T. It was nice out; she could even stand the 40-minute walk. He could just hear her. Tobias, I’ll be fine. And chances are she was right. But he wasn’t wasn’t about to take chances, not with her.

He sent her a quick text. Hey, hon. Getting out of work a little early. Wait for me; I’ll pick you up.

It wasn't exactly a lie, he was leaving early, it just wasn't planned until a second before. He opened his laptop, rescheduled a meeting or two, and ensured his patients had coverage. Then he rushed to the elevator, a full four hours before his shift was scheduled to end. He got off at the garage level, walking to his car at a rapid pace. Edenbrook was only an eleven-minute drive from Mass Kenmore, but with traffic, that could nearly double. He looked at his watch. It was 7:00 PM, and the sun wouldn't set for another ninety minutes. Surely she'd be fine. He knew he was overreacting, but he couldn't help it.

Therapy had gone a long way, but some memories could never be erased, no matter how much he wished they could. He was a doctor; he knew the signs, and he saw them in Casey that dreadful night. Her skin was no longer pale but became an ashen shade of grey. Her extremities took on a tinge of blue, and her breathing became shallow. Disorientation and lethargy had set in; she couldn’t focus on a conversation the last time he walked away from her in the containment room. He wasn’t even sure she knew he was there. That’s when he knew they had hours, not days, to unravel a mystery doctors better than him had never been able to solve, and the healthy fear that was driving him quickly morphed into terror.

The odds were against them, but he walked away from her with a promise in his heart and his heart in his throat. They’d find a cure. He’d find it. He’d see her again; he had to. They weren’t even on speaking terms prior to the attack, and that was no one’s fault but his own. But that didn't stop him from loving her. He may have been too clueless, too foolish, or too scared to admit it before, but there was no way he could deny it now. Tobias Carrick, Boston's most notorious confirmed bachelor loved Dr. Casey MacTavish with all his heart... and she didn’t even know.

The elevator door closed, and he had one minute. One minute to fall apart, to allow his body to tremble and his tears to flow. One minute to let the hopelessness wash over him and to pray to God for a miracle with all his might. But when the door opened, that luxury ended. The miracle was dependent on mere mortals; it depended on him. Never seeing the woman he loved alive again was not an option... her dying without even knowing how he felt was unacceptable. So he went to work.

The story had a happy ending, or as happy as it could be. An antidote was found, Casey survived, and their friendship flourished. In the dark days and months that followed, he was there for her, her rock ensuring she'd get through. It turned out that she loved him, too, and he had no idea just how much joy that would bring.

His Casey. She was his, and he was hers... but this was the real world, and he knew happily ever after didn’t exist, but dragons certainly did. They could appear at any time, be waiting around any corner, and they kept him up at night. He couldn’t shake the anxiety that gripped him. The mere thought of her in danger again filled him with a dread he couldn’t control, casting a shadow over the new life they were trying to lead.

Casey wasn't blind to it. She saw the signs and did all that she could to reassure him. She could handle herself, but Tobias couldn’t let it go. She was no longer to take the T. Boston's subway was too unpredictable, too full of potential danger. He had drivers on call to take her anywhere she needed to go when he couldn’t drive her himself. He even had groceries delivered to her apartment when he wasn't able to join her for errands. While Casey found it sweet and endearing at first, it was starting to wear on her, and she knew it was taking a toll on him, too.

When he arrived at the Edenbrook, his heart warmed as he watched her slide into the passenger seat beside him. She may have been exhausted after a long day, but she was radiant. She flashed that smile that lit up his entire world, and his heart skipped a beat. She was happy, healthy, alive, safe... and now she was here, with him.

“Hi, babe,” she greeted, leaning across the console for a quick kiss. “So, you’re my driver again?”

Tobias forced a smile, knowing what was coming next, but he could take the ribbing, as long as she was safe. He gently brushed stray strands of hair away from her face. God. He loved her.

“Hey, baby. How was your day?”

“Long,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “But good. I can’t complain. Though, I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to get home from work by myself. Might have to retrain myself soon.”

He chuckled half-heartedly and took her hand. She could tease him all she wanted to. At least he knew she was safe. But as they drove to her apartment, it was impossible to ignore how quiet she had become. Something was on her mind, and he feared he knew precisely what it was.

They found a parking spot, and she invited him in. Kicking her shoes off at the door, she headed directly to her room, collapsing onto the bed with a groan. Tobias lay down beside her, gently caressing her arm. He couldn’t have been happier to be by her side, but his heart was still racing, and he knew they needed to talk.

“Casey,” he said softly. She turned to him, her eyes warm and patient. “I know I’ve been… a bit much lately.”

She raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a small smile. “A bit?”

“Okay, maybe more than a bit,” he admitted.

“Considering the fact that you’re not supposed to be at work for another three hours and you offered to accompany me to the bathroom, I’d say it’s more than a bit.”

“I just… I can’t help it, baby. I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, but...”

“But?” She said, reaching to touch his cheek.

“I can’t stand the thought of anything bad happening to you, Casey. Not after everything… I need to protect you. I need to keep you safe. Having you hurt or, God forbid, losing you... it's not an option."

She reached for his hand. “I know, Tobias. I know you're doing all this because you care about me, and I love you for it. But you have to understand—this is no way to live. For either of us.”

“I’m afraid, Casey,” he said, his voice trembling with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “I’m terrified that one day something will happen, and I won’t be able to save you.”

Tears welled up in Casey’s eyes as she leaned in closer, cupping his face in her hand. “You already saved me, hon. You saved my life and spent the months following showing me how to live again. I’m here because of you in more ways than one. But now, I need you to help me return to the real world, and I can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to protect me from it.”

He looked into her eyes, the weight of her words seeping in. She was right, of course. He’d been so focused on keeping her safe that he hadn’t realized he was suffocating both of them in the process. This was no way for them to live.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help bring you back to life, not prevent you from living it.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for loving me and caring about me,” she replied. “But promise me you’ll work on this, OK? Talk to your therapist if you have to. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Tobias nodded, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her hair. “I promise. I’ll do better. I just… I love you so much, Casey. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You can’t guarantee that,” he sighed, his head filling with visions of that night against his will.

“Hey,” she said, forcing him to look her in the eye. “No day is promised to any of us, T, but there is only so much we can control. You know I’ll take care of myself, and I know you’ll do your part, too. But the rest... if we spend all our time worrying about all the things that can go wrong, we’ll never enjoy the time that we have. I don’t blame you, baby. We both went through a terrible ordeal, and it will take time to heal. But I have faith in you. I have faith in us."

He looked at her, his face twisted with all the emotions he was feeling at that moment, but the most prominent of them all was love.

“I love you, baby. I don’t have a ton of experience with this relationship stuff, and, well, ours got off to an eventful start....”

“It sure did,” she smiled. “And it’s not easy, but it will only make us stronger.”

Tobias's arms encircled her, and he pulled her as close as she could; Casey snuggled closer to him, relishing his closeness, his warmth.

“You mind if I stay over here tonight, kid?”

“Why,” she giggled. “Do you want to be with me, or are you just protecting me?”

“Oh,” he growled, rolling on top of her, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss. “I want to be with you all right. But two things can be true. I’m happy to protect you while I’m here... you can protect me, too, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does. I love you,” she smiled, giving him another tender kiss, then pulled back with an impish twinkle in her eye. Now, with all of this talk of protection... please tell me you have some on you because, if you’re staying, I have some fun activities in mind."

"You may not know this," he smiled, reaching into his pant pocket. "But I was a Boy Scout. I'm always prepared."

"And that's one of the things I love about you," she laughed, gripping his hands as they toyed with the hem of her shirt. But seriously, baby, promise you'll talk to your therapist. I want us both to heal from this. We have a beautiful life ahead."

He leaned in to kiss her forehead. "We sure do, and I'm not going to let anything, even my fear, get in our way."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART]

This one is shorter, because I wanted to leave a cliffhanger at the end >:) Fair warning, there's a small paragraph describing wounds in more depth than I usually do!

These are getting more difficult to write haha. Maybe I'm trying to add too many plot points at the same time, but I like a good mystery or 5...

Ghost is tempted to barge into Price’s office for a third time today. He’s been getting increasingly more agitated, and with no missions in the foreseeable future, has no place to let all his frustrations out.

The fact he’s been avoiding MacTavish isn’t helping the situation.

“Avoiding” is a strong word. Ghost is simply waiting for Soap to get what he had told him back then through his thick skull. And hearing the conversations he has with the recruits tells him he absolutely didn’t.

The Scot keeps up a friendly approach with them, making light jokes at his revenant status. Lets enough information out that the recruits don’t feel the need to ask more, but not enough that they would truly understand what is going on.

It would impress him if he didn’t feel this underlying current of freezing ice every time he heard another of Soap’s ‘hilarious’ stories.

Watching Gaz beside him grimace tells him they share the sentiment. The Sergeants have been spending a lot of time together as of late, and Ghost would lie if he said he didn’t wish Garrick would take a moment to speak with him. He’s not one to really focus on what he’s feeling, but he needs to share what he knows with someone.

He wants more brains working on solving the mystery called “Soap”.

Ghost sighs before turning away from Price’s door. 

You’d think, for someone with Ghost’s powers, he wouldn’t need to train his physical strength as much. He wouldn’t, if things worked as they did before he joined the 141. He wasn’t as smart back then.

Ghost throws another flurry of punches at the sack that distracts him from his thoughts for a moment.

Back then, he went into missions back to back, annihilating enemies within a few seconds of touching ground. Receiving orders to unleash Limbo regardless of how close allies were to him. 

Limbo was emptier. Calmer. The not-dead residing within it weren’t always this… angry.

Another set of punches violently shakes the chains the punching bag is hanged by.

It was only after losing several squads that Ghost finally got his tight leash, but it was too late. Limbo was never the same. And neither were his fellow soldiers, who saw in Ghost not a brother in arms, but their friend’s murderer.

Soap might not have his own Limbo, but Ghost is certain his powers can, and if he continues on the path he’s on, will backfire.

Reapers, as generous as they are, are merciless.

He heaves, resting his arm on the abused bag. It might be time to involve Price in his concerns.

The path to Price’s office is intercepted by one floating Sergeant, also on his way to the Captain.

Ghost nods at him, “need the Captain for something?”

Gaz averts his eyes for a moment, “It’s about Soap, I think-”

“Save it for Price’s office”, Ghost restarts on his path, a little more sure of his purpose. With the three of them, he’ll might be able to find out more.

Before Garrick can knock, Price’s words fill their minds.

“I can sense your troubles from here, come in already.”

They both huffed and entered the room. Price sat in front of his computer screen, reading something before addressing them.

“Spill it out then. I’m listening.”

“Soap’s left arm has nerve damage, sir”, Ghost starts, “He needs more time to heal than the brass is giving him. He should be removed from active duty.”

Gaz’s eyes widen in surprise. Oh, so Soap hasn’t let his new friend know about this? Fucking great.

“How the hell is he supposed to fight without one arm?” He exclaims, “Sir, I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s hiding injuries. He keeps telling stories about how many he got blown to bits and I can’t imagine he-”

Price cuts him off “The Sergeant’s arm injuries are registered and accounted for.”

“The higher-ups let him out when he’s ‘capable of preforming well on field’. His words” Ghost adds and deflates back into his chair.

“Bloody hell…” Gaz trails off.

Price watches both of them and exhales, “I’m not in charge of Soap’s next deployment. I can’t do anything about that.”

Ghost looks at the screen for the first time since entering. Schedules, of…

“Price… what have you found?”

The captain’s expression darkened, “We finally got back the decrypted intel you and Soap collected 7 months ago.”

His focus snaps away from Soap. Are they being sent on a mission finally? “Tell me where you need me, Captain.”

“Switzerland. Intel suggests a deal with a PMC will happen there in 4 days. Shepherd wants eyes on it, the smuggler hub it’s taking place in has been on our radar for months.”

Price drags out 2 files and dumps them in front of Ghost and Gaz, “you two will survey the area and take notes, no engagement. Get it done clean.”

“What about Soap, sir?” Gaz asks.

Price raises an eyebrow, “what about him? He will stay here, waiting for his assignment.” Price tries to reassure the Sergeant, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him busy. He’ll get to have some alone time in the training grounds”.

Ghost gets up and takes the file with him. They both get dismissed and Gaz stops after a couple of steps, “you need to talk to Soap before we leave.”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “has he said anything?”.

“No”, Gaz chews on his lip, “But I feel like if he’ll listen to someone, it would be you.”

Ghost walks away, not before muttering, “your feeling’s wrong, then.”

He doesn’t sleep that night. Which isn’t an unfamiliar experience for him, but much rarer after Price found him a bunk bed to drag into his personal room. The victims of Limbo don’t reach up high enough to grasp at him there.

Ghost looks out at the fields, a sense of discomfort lingering around him. Footsteps behind him alert him to the presence of another sleepless soldier. He doesn’t bother turning - they’ll leave him alone when they realize it’s the Ghost, if they know what’s good for them.

It’s for that reason that he’s surprised to hear the footsteps get closer to him, before feeling a body join the window.

Ghost is about to scare the bastard away, but he turns around to find Soap, a somber look marring his features.

“I’ve thought about what you told me”, he speaks lowly, a stark contrast to his usual confident tone.

Ghost hums.

“My powers… don’t allow me to do much.” Soap locks eyes with the night sky, “I either destroy or get destroyed. I supposed you figured what I prefer.”

He did. What he doesn’t understand is why Soap is so adamant that it’s the only way. He turns to Soap, which makes the other finally look at him.

“When you return from your mission, when you’re truly under my command, I’ll decide what your role will be. For now”, he sighs, “for now, you can keep playing a puppet for the higher ups.”

Soap has a distant look to his eyes. As if he’s not really all here. “I do want to learn. How to operate like the 141 does. I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.”

That doesn’t comfort Ghost in the slightest.

“Care to share?” He cautiously asks.

Soap, for the first time in days, shines a genuine smile at him, “You’re a bit of a myth sir. Each person seems to have a different idea of what your powers really are, how your Reaping went”

He raises his head, “None of them come close to the truth”.

“What else have you heard?” Ghost continues digging his own second grave.

“Does it matter? It’s all shite anyway.” Soap huffs, “You’re far softer than any of them realize”

He barks what could be a laugh, “Softer? Sergeant, have you hit your head in training?”

Soap fucking pouts his lips like a damn child and replies “Aye I said it! Yer soft LT! Who else would’ve cared about my arm!” His smile broadens.

Ghost can feel his eyes crescent, “I think your brain’s more messed up than I originally thought.”

“That’s for fuckin’ certain” Soap snorts.

They return to their previous silence, and Ghost unexpectedly has the urge to say, “me and Garrick are leaving for a mission tomorrow. Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Soap rests his head in his flaming hand, leaning against the window sill, smiling up at Ghost.

“Copy that, sir”.

The mission isn’t anything to write home about. Ghost does feel surprisingly refreshed for not sleeping a wink the night before.

He refuses to acknowledge that Soap’s farewell to them on the tarmac has anything to do with that.

Gaz lifts a chunk of concrete for them to overwatch the meeting happen. The PMC representatives, a dozen soldiers covered head to toe in black uniforms, exchange with the smugglers a few words before walking over to their truck and opening the back to check the “goods”. From their location, Ghost can’t see what’s inside.

The PMC Soldiers seem pleased, and bring several crates to the smugglers.

The two parties leave, and Ghost and Gaz finish their observations and call for exfil.

When they return to their home base, Ghost notes only Price waiting for them on the tarmac.

They get dragged into debrief before he can ask where their other Sergeant is.

As Price collects the various files and maps they used in the meeting, Ghost stays behind and inquires him about Soap’s whereabouts.

“The Sergeant deployed last night”, is all he’s got clearance to get.

Price tells him he’ll be informed when the Sergeant returns, and Ghost leaves the meeting room, unsettled as if he didn’t just finish a mission.

The days are incredibly unremarkable without Soap. He and Garrick have played about 15 card game rounds in 3 days, before they both got so bored the preferred doing nothing at all.

He would be drowning in paperwork if their entire previous mission didn’t unexpectedly get wrapped in red tape, so he didn’t even have that to distract him. Although, with the size of Price’s eye bags resembling several suitcases, maybe he shouldn’t complain.

At last, Gaz runs up to him to swiftly push him towards the tarmac, yapping about and telling him that Soap is about to return.

Ghost decides then that he will stick to the Scot until he’ll tell him every single detail on his mission. Specifically, in the medical department. He’s not going to let him hide such things anymore.

Gaz sees the helo nearing and Ghost’s chest does a bizarre twisting motion in anticipation for Soap and his bright smiles.

The helo touches down, and Gaz runs up to it while the ramp lowers. He calls for Soap before abruptly stopping.

Ghost pushes beyond him to see what’s the holdup, and freezes in place.

Soap stands on one, shaky leg. His left arm, bloody and bruised, barely hangs on a crutch. His entire right side is charred, black blood caking his remaining tac vest.

He hops down slowly, and Ghost sees his face more clearly in the sunlight. Or what is left of it.

His cheek was so badly burned he could see his teeth poking through, blood covering what is certainly more burn marks. One eye shut, the other so vacant it looks fake.

He glances at Ghost for a moment, before Soap breaks the eye contact and continues hopping forward, leaving droplets of blood behind him. Distantly, he can hear Gaz shaking off from his stupor and offering to help Soap, only to be completely ignored.

Ghost himself is still stuck, his eyes glued to the helo sits.

Soap’s is covered in deep red blood.

Should probably remind y'all I like angst huh

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Dangancember 2024 - Danganronpa Top 24 Class Trials - Number 15: Danganronpa 1 Case 6

//This render is sick^^^

//Anyway.

//I want to quickly jump back a little bit to the beginning of this countdown at the beginning of this month. If you've been reading these posts as they've been uploaded daily, you would remember that one of the kickstarters of this list was Chapter 6 of Danganronpa V3; i.e. the final trial of that game.

//And you'll remember that I largely had very negative opinions of it. For a variety of reasons.

//However, to V3-6's credit, if there's one thing I can say it DID hit the mark on, it's the fact that it was both climactic AND emotional.

//Regardless of what kind of emotion it made you feel, whether you satisfied with the twists of it or not, I don't think any of us can deny that the final trial definitely felt like a final trial.

//Which...is strangely not the case for me in my relationship with the finale of Game 1.

//Let's talk about it.

//For starters, let me just preface that I don't dislike the ending of Danganronpa 1. It DOES contain one of my favourite plot-twists in the series, as most of the final trials tend to do. But to quickly sum up my thoughts on it, I think I generally feel about it the OPPOSITE of how I feel about Game 2 Case 2.

//Game 2 Case 2 was incredibly satisfying for the story, and the character development, but it felt incredibly lackluster as a mystery. Game 1 Case 6 is an incredible and fun mystery, but once it's solved, it's packed with what I think are really mediocre and cliche character moments that feel a bit too...anime, compared to the rest of the game.

//For what it's worth though, the setup for this finale is pretty solid. I think that largely has to do with the fact that unlike the rest of the games, where the 5th Case is far removed and kind of only slightly lays the groundwork for the final chapter, the one that did it in this game, I feel, was Case 4 with Sakura. While Cases 5 and 6 feel like a 2-part finale, especially since Case 5 can end with the Bad Ending where Kyoko dies, and the remaining students are forced to live out the rest of their days in the school.

//But in the alternative TRUE ending of the game, things take a turn that’s both fascinating and a little...anticlimactic.

//Let’s be honest: the final chapters of the Danganronpa series tend to be less about storytelling and are basically one big investigation. Even though the trials themselves kind of round up all the key mysteries in the plot in one...not-so neat little bow, the 6th Chapters themselves are mostly trying to scramble together loose clues to SUPPORT the final points.

//But in this case, it's not just an obligatory sprint to the finish line. It’s a clever, engaging lead-up to the climax.

//Chapter 5 leaves Makoto narrowly escaping execution with an assist from Alter Ego. Instead of the afterlife, he gets the cozy confines of a garbage pit, where he hangs out for a while before Kyoko shows up to save the day.

//Of course, Makoto’s earlier decision to let Kyoko’s gambit slip didn’t just keep her in the game, it also boxed Monokuma into a corner. Caught in a lie, Monokuma has to save face, and Kyoko masterfully reminds him that the "outside audience" is watching. So rather than just brushing the gang off (which he can easily do, might I add), Monokuma makes a bold move: he dares them to uncover every mystery of Hope’s Peak and their situation. If they can figure it all out, they can leave.

//This is largely why I like Monokuma so much in the first game, because these are his roots, and what sets him apart as a villain. Although, to be perfectly frank, I admit that this trial is probably where things kind of take a poor turn for him. That's not the bear's fault though, but...we'll get to that.

//Either way, challenge accepted, queue what I actually think is one of the best investigation segments in the entire series.

//I didn’t love it at first. My initial impression was that it was one giant info dump, which can be a problem for the final chapters in this series, as I've kind of already said.

//And trust me, this trial definitely IS an info dump. As I said before, the issues with the final trials are universal throughout the whole series, and that includes DRA and SDRA2.

//But on reflection, I came to appreciate how dynamic and rewarding this investigation feels. Compared to 2-6, or V3-6, this one doesn’t feel like a tedious game of “connect the dots.” Instead, it’s like you’re genuinely piecing together a massive, vital mystery.

//I think that's especially because of the sense of freedom. Throughout the game, even in the later stages, there are areas you’ve known about all along but couldn’t access until now. Finally getting to explore them feels as satisfying as closing a dozen browser tabs after finishing a huge project.

//(That's the same joke I made back when I reviewed these trials on Reddit. Needless to say my opinions have changed a bit.)

//It’s an “ahh, yes” moment that makes you feel like you’re cracking open the heart of the game.

//Then there’s the trial itself. Sure, it’s not as flashy as some of the earlier trials, except maybe the first and fifth one, but that’s okay. It doesn’t need to be.

//What makes this trial stand out is that the Big Bad isn’t spending the whole time lecturing you or dumping plot twists on your head. Most of the revelations are things you’ve already uncovered during the investigation. You’ve got all the puzzle pieces; now it’s just a matter of putting them together.

//Unlike in the other games, the villain isn’t spoon-feeding you answers, and the clues actually feel meaningful, which is a step up from some of the other final trials.

//There's a lot of really neat plot twists in this case, particularly the fact that the students have actually been here for over 2 years now, and they WILLINGLY locked themselves inside the school, but as far as they go, there are two major twists that stand out especially.

//And while I think both are good, the first one...is executed a little strangely.

//I won't say POORLY.

//Just...strangely...

//The twist I'm referring to is the twist of who the Mastermind controlling Monokuma is, and who actually is that's running the Killing Game.

//And...You know what? I don't know why I'm dancing around so much, we all know who it is.

//It's fucking Junko Enoshima. THE Mastermind. The biggest villain in the series and one of the most all-time notorious villains in FICTION.

//Again, I shouldn't have to explain this to anybody who's a fan of Danganronpa and has played these games, but...I have to pad this out somehow. What makes this reveal especially shocking is that Junko was presumed dead early in the game. During the first trial, she is graphically executed for breaking Monokuma’s rules, leading everyone to believe she was just another victim of the deadly game.

//However, the twist reveals that this was part of an elaborate ruse. Junko faked her own death to continue manipulating events from behind the scenes. The rumored 16th student hiding somewhere in the academy, Mukuro Ikusaba, who we find out was actually the Ultimate Soldier; and in this trial, Junko's older twin sister; willingly posed as her and took her place as the first apparent victim.

//This misdirection ensured that no one would suspect the real Junko was still alive and controlling Monokuma.

//I have complained previously about how Mukuro really wasn't much of a character in DR1, because honestly, I generally don't think I would have given a single shit about her had it not been for IF, and this game really just treats her as a plot twist and a throwaway character.

//At the same time though, I do have to commend this segment not just for its cleverness, but how it immediately sets up what kind of threat you're dealing with. The fact that Mukuro and Junko were not only working together, but also Junko's reveal that they're SISTERS, shows her ruthlessness and willingness to sacrifice anyone, even her FAMILY, for the sake of her goals.

//These days we obviously know that Junko doesn't care about anything enough to think twice about making these sacrifices. But remember, this was the first time we ever got to see her in action.

//And for what it's worth, I think this really is a good way of showing how the person who set up this absolutely horrific game is every bit as evil as we anticipated they would be.

//(Also, minor note here, but one thing I really like is the fact that the reason why Junko's surname is Enoshima and Mukuro's surname is Ikusaba is never actually explained, and Junko absolutely refuses to say why. I just think it's kind of funny.)

//But anyway, when Junko finally reveals herself, her character takes center stage. She is far from the shallow Fashionista image she projects in the outside world. Instead, she is the embodiment of chaos and despair, characterized by her erratic behavior and constant personality shifts.

//The Ultimate Despair, if you will.

//Her motive is not rooted in greed or revenge but in a nihilistic obsession with despair itself. She orchestrated the game to spread despair to both the participants and the outside world, reveling in the suffering it caused. Her ultimate plan involved broadcasting the killing game to the apocalyptic world outside, amplifying despair on a global scale.

//Generally I think this twist itself is fine. It does a good job in recontextualizing much of the game, from the participants’ amnesia to the overarching theme of Hope VS Despair. It also highlights Junko's brilliance as a manipulator and cements her as the standout villain of the series, and it's its still one of the most defining moments of the franchise, even though today, we all KNOW who Junko is, and that she's essentially Hitler in a schoolgirl outfit.

//...Don't imagine that, please.

//Actually, I take it back. Hitler WISHES he could be this evil. But again, we will get to that.

//So with all that said, the real question is what do I think of Junko as a character, AND as the Mastermind?

//Well...that's a bit of a difficult question, because the honest answer is that it depends on the iteration.

//For example, I think she's an extremely competant and awesome villain in DR2, wheras in DR3, I still think she's a cool, sadistic villain, but only when she's not being such a valley girl.

//(DR3 is legit the only iteration in the series where I generally prefer the sub instead of the dub, but then again, the majority of the voice cast is different, save for Makoto and a few of Class 77. I do love Jamie Marchi, but I'm just so taken by the afflictions of Bennett Abara and Erin Fitzgerald, and I think they nail the switching personalities way better.)

//As for the first game...eh...It's honestly not her strongest.

//To be completely and totally blunt, the first time I played Trigger Happy Havoc, the moment the mastermind stopped hiding behind Monokuma and revealed themselves was a standout point where my enjoyment of the game took a SWANDIVE.

//While the twist revealing her as the mastermind pulling all the strings is undeniably clever, her execution as a villain in this game feels…underwhelming.

//Don’t get me wrong, some of her later appearances, show a much darker, more sadistic, and outright evil side to her character, but...we'll talk about that when we eventually cover those cases.

//Here though? It’s almost hard to believe that this cartoonishly over-the-top douche-canoe is the Mastermind behind all the heartbreak, destruction, and death you’ve endured.

//And yeah, I know I said that killing off Mukuro really showed that villainy out of the gate, but...that's really it, at least at first.

//As established, learning that Junko was behind everything was one of those jaw-dropping moments that sticks with you. It’s a classic "mastermind was hiding in plain sight" reveal, and I loved the sheer audacity of it. But as soon as she starts talking, her dialogue and exaggerated mannerisms make her feel like a Saturday morning cartoon villain.

//She’s dramatic to the point of absurdity, and while that’s part of her...ahem..."charm"...it also undermines the gravitas of what she’s done. Especially when she goes on to reveal what's ACTUALLY going on in the outside world.

//You’ve just spent the whole game mourning your friends and unraveling this massive conspiracy, and now you’re confronted with...what is basically a living meme? It’s a bit of a tonal whiplash.

//Then there’s her motivation...or lack thereof.

//When you first find out that Junko orchestrated this apocalyptic nightmare purely because she felt like it, it’s almost laughable. She’s not driven by revenge, ideology, or even self-preservation.

//Nope, she just wanted to watch the world burn because despair is her jam, and it is QUITE LITERALLY the only way she can feel anything anymore.

//Don't get me wrong, that can work for a villain. I mean, look at the fucking JOKER from DC comics. He's basically the exact same.

//But just because the Joker manages to pull it off, that doesn't make it any less tricky of an archetype. Villains who are bad just because they can be need to be handled with finesse to avoid feeling hollow or one-note.

//Unfortunately, Junko in the first game falls victim to that curse. The game shows the things that she has achieved, mostly on her own, might I add, and when you look at it, is really shows just how INSANELY powerfil this creature of a woman is. But the issue is that that isn't reflected in her personality, or the way she conducts herself. If anything, it downplays her.

//But at the same time, Junko's not designed to be a "likable" villain. She’s not supposed to have layers of tragic backstory or moments that make you empathize with her. Junko is the ultimate embodiment of Despair, a character specifically crafted to make you loathe her.

//And in that sense, she’s excellent at her job. She’s less of a person and more of a force. A plague infecting everything she touches, leaving destruction and misery in her wake. The sheer hate she inspires is exactly the reaction she’s meant to evoke, which is why she works so well as the overarching villain of the series.

//Especially compared to the other big bads, Monaca and Tsumugi. Not counting Mikado, Utsuro, or Akane Taira, because they're another matter. Junko still stands out as the strongest antagonist.

//Sure, Monaca had her moments, and hell, even Tsumugi had hers in the end, as limited as they were. But Junko’s influence is on a whole other level.

//She’s the original, the template, the blueprint for despair in this universe. Her character’s impact, not just on the narrative but on the players themselves, is unmatched. You’re not supposed to like her. You’re supposed to hate her with every fiber of your being, and that’s why she’s so effective.

//Which is kind of what I hope to capture in Survivor. What's most important for me with Junko going forward in this story is I want to make sure she damn FEELS like the most dangerous creature on the planet. Hence why her introduction in the final arc of Phase 2 immediately shook everyone to their core before she even revealed herself.

//So, while I’m still not a fan of her cartoonish antics in the first game, I can’t deny that Junko’s presence lingers long after the credits roll. She’s not a "fun" villain or a "cool" one, but she’s the right kind of villain for this story. The kind that gets under your skin, makes you uncomfortable, and ensures you’ll never forget her, whether you want to or not.

//But in short, the whole way she's presented just makes it hard for me to take these sinister aspects seriously, and thankfully, it gets fixed in later games.

//But then there’s the other twist. THE twist. One of the best in the series, hands down: the reveal of the outside world.

//Turns out, the world beyond Hope’s Peak’s walls; that, might I add, everybody has been fighting this WHOLE game to break through and breach through any means necessary; is a post-apocalyptic wasteland, courtesy of "The Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History."

//Because why the FUCK not!?

//The twist is devastating, not just because it’s essentially...well...the goddamn APOCALYPSE, but because of the weight it retroactively adds to everything that’s happened.

//All those characters who died trying to escape? Their desperate struggles were for a world that’s beyond saving. It’s heavy, gut-punch stuff, and it reframes the story in such a tragic, chilling way that it hit me like a brick wall.

//For me, this moment was peak Despair. It’s haunting, it’s horrifying, and it lingers.

//But again, this is another reason why I struggle to take Junko seriously as a villain, because the sense of sadism she gives off throughout the game when she's acting as Monokuma doesn't match when she finally reveals herself.

//You're telling me that the entire world outside of the school fell into a state of despair and destruction...because of HER?

//THIS chick!? REALLY!?

//It just...It feels so unbelievable at the time, and...thankfully, it DOES get fixed in later games. But that doesn't change that I really wasn't okay with it at the time I first experienced it.

//Still, it doesn't really take away from the horror of the twist itself, and I think these days, we're so attuned to this aspect of the Danganronpa games that we tend to forget just how POWERFUL this moment is. Like I said, it's one of THE BEST plot twists in the series.

//The students' isolation is no longer just physical but existential. They've spent this whole game fighting to get back to the safety and freedom of the world outside this school, but...now there is seemingly no safety or freedom to return to.

//And you realize, with horror, that this school, where anyone could drop dead at any moment by someone else's hands, is the LAST BASTION of humanity, and the SAFEST PLACE IN THE WORLD!

//I also forewent mentioning this, but this also explains why the Killing Game is being broadcast. Unlike the rest of Junko's main motivations for getting her classmates to murder each other in this game, it’s not just a sick experiment but a psychological weapon in a larger, twisted agenda.

//Junko’s ultimate goal of spreading Despair gains new weight as the broadcast of the game becomes a tool to perpetuate the hopelessness consuming the world. This revelation elevates the stakes BEYOND personal survival, tying the characters’ struggles to a global narrative and making their choice to hope all the more significant.

//But what you might be wondering so far upon reading this is...why do I have this so low on the list if I have so many good things to say about these twists?

//So far, my biggest issue with the trial is that I struggle to take Junko seriously as a villain. But I also admitted that in the later series, this gets reprimanded because Junko as a villain becomes more dangerous.

//Well...ah...the simple answer is that I'm REALLY not a fan of how this all gets resolved.

//Because as I kind of implied at the beginning of this post, there's...a strange lack of impact here for me, for something that's supposed to be an incredibly climactic finale.

//I can actually break the explanation why down into three things.

//One: Hope winning out over Despair feels way too simplistic.

//The way that this trial ultimately resolves itself is that Junko sets up a gambit where the survivors of the Killing Game get to vote for her to be executed. Complying herself with the rules of the Killing Game, she is the one who killed Mukuro, so that technically makes her the blackened for the case.

//The catch is that EVERYONE has to vote for Junko, and when Junko dies, they will get to leave the school. If even a single person doesn't vote for her, the spotless (everyone else) suffers the punishment.

//It sounds simple enough, considering voting for Junko is the only way that they don't die, but the twist is that the way they "die" is of old age, being trapped in the Academy forever. And it's a difficult situation because if they stay trapped in the school, the killing game will continue with Junko watching over them. But if they vote her out, they'll be forced to step into the outside world, which as a reminder, is a hellscape.

//Also, Makoto gets killed because Junko doesn't like him. Perfectly understandable at this point considering he's basically fucked her over.

//(Also, I know this is from the anime, but I love this little cartoon, don't @ me.)

//Well...we have a franchise, which includes a trilogy of games, and a spinoff game, so you probably already know how this gets resolved. The survivors boldly choose hope and triumph over Junko’s despair, thanks to Makoto "planting his seeds" in them.

//Also, this is probably the most impactful thing Makoto does the entire game beyond his relationship with Sayaka in the first chapter. Most of the stuff he does, he's either told to do, or is goaded into doing, by Kyoko. She's basically the real heroine of the story and Makoto is the sidekick.

//Although, despite the way I feel about this, I can't really talk bad about Makoto in this case, because even with the fact that this is the biggest impact he leaves on the game, it doesn't feel outwardly nonsensical or contrived for him to be doing this.

//And no, that's not just because he's the protagonist. Hajime and Shuichi did the same thing effectively, but somehow, Makoto's tirade still ends up being distinct.

//I know that they don't spend much time dwelling on it, since this is the only time in the whole series where the two of them actually meet face to face. But I genuinely think people don't talk enough about Makoto's relationship with Junko and how they are are perfect narrative opposites, with their contrasting ideologies and approaches to life defining the thematic core of the whole franchise.

//Makoto represents unwavering hope, kindness, and the belief in the inherent goodness of people. Despite his initial self-perception as "ordinary," he consistently demonstrates an extraordinary ability to inspire others and bring people together. He believes that hope is not just about avoiding ruin but actively choosing to confront challenges and inspire growth in oneself and others.

//This perspective is why he's such a beacon of resilience and optimism, emphasizing that Hope is a collective force built on trust and unity.

//On the other hand, Junko embodies nihility, chaos, and a deep CONTEMPT for humanity. Her obsession with despair stems from a warped view of life’s meaninglessness and the thrill she derives from causing suffering.

//Where Makoto uplifts and motivates those around him, Junko manipulates and tears them down. And even without him realizing it, her attempts to crush hope are repeatedly thwarted by Makoto’s ability to inspire perseverance and unity in his allies.

//Their dynamic showcases how these two ideas aren't just opposing forces but choices individuals make in responding to adversity. The dichotomy between Junko's cynical, destructive despair and Makoto's optimistic, constructive hope underscores their roles as perfect foils, driving the series' exploration of human resilience and the enduring power of belief.

//But even with all of that said, am I the only one who feels that this is almost suspiciously...tidy...given the dark and gritty narrative leading up to it?

//For a game that throws its characters into a relentless spiral of betrayal, murder, and despair, the ending wraps things up in a way that left me scratching my head more than anything.

//The survivors’ unanimous decision to embrace hope feels a bit too streamlined for a group that just spent weeks accusing, lying, and voting each other to their deaths.

//As a reminder, Makoto is literally the ONLY PERSON here who didn't try to screw over the whole group at least once.

//(Before anyone asks; Byakuya in Chapter 2, Toko, Hiro, and Hina in Chapter 4, Kyoko in Chapter 5. Also, Hiro and Toko did nothing to help this whole game and my god this is probably the worst group of Survivors in the entire series including the Another games so help me god Kyoko and Makoto are the only good ones here and I guess Hina too because she's a sweet bean but fuck the rest of them I know Toko redeemed herself in UDG but she sucks here they all suck WHYYYYYY-)

//These are people who were at each other's throats, sometimes literally, yet by the end, they're standing shoulder to shoulder as a united front. It’s as if all those emotional scars and lingering trust issues evaporated the moment Makoto delivered his TED Talk on hope.

//While inspiring, it also raises the question: Did nobody need at least a little therapy first?

//Anyway, two: The ambiguity of the Post-Apocalyptic Setting.

//There’s a stark contrast between the gritty narrative tone of the game and the saccharine optimism of its finale. The world outside is still a post-apocalyptic wasteland, riddled with despair and ruin, but the survivors walk out of Hope’s Peak Academy with the confidence of contestants on a game show finale.

//Sure, they’ve chosen hope, but how do they plan to, you know, survive out there? The optimism feels less like a well-earned triumph and more like the developers waving a bright "TO BE CONTINUED" sign at the audience.

//For a plotline that doesn't really get resolved in the best way, might I add.

//Putting DR3 aside, the only sign we get of what happened to Makoto and co. after the Killing Game is the fact that the main trio shows up at the end of DR2 and reveal that they are the members of the Future Foundation trying to save the Remnants of Despair, and then we get further context in Ultra Despair Girls.

//But we don't actually SEE a lot of what happens to the survivors and how this came to be in those games. Even in the anime, they're kind of already established members of the Foundation, so...there's still a lot that isn't ever really explained. We don't know what they actually DO with their lives post-Killing Game.

//I can't complain because yeah, the sequel at least proved to be an absolute godlike game that really built a solid foundation from DR1. And again, a lot of these issues are mainly because of DR3, not DR1.

//Finally, Three: The lack of impactful consequences for Despair.

//Junko’s obsession with Despair was such an overwhelming force throughout the game that defeating her with a pep talk and a group vote feels like it might have oversimplified things a bit.

//I'm not saying they could've jumped her and killed her on the spot is a good alternative, because that solves nothing, but still...

//Junko spends the entire trial, as well as most of the game when she masquerades as Monokuma, proving that despair is layered, intricate, and relentless.

//But Hope? Hope wins in a neat little package with zero paperwork or follow-up emails. For a villain as theatrically chaotic as Junko, her defeat feels almost anticlimactic.

//The only villain defeat that's more anticlimactic than this is that one Borderlands villain who dies falling down some stairs.

//And that's the real killer for this final trial. It's anticlimactic. At least, it's anticlimactic compared to the final trials of literally any of the other game finale's.

//Despite its tidiness, the resolution does fit thematically with Danganronpa’s central message: Hope, no matter how improbable or naive, is the antidote to Despair.

//Still, for a game that thrives on complexity and moral gray areas, this resolution feels more like a rainbow-colored band-aid slapped onto a very messy wound. It works, but it doesn’t stop you from side-eyeing the optimism as you imagine the survivors squinting into the wasteland and wondering what on earth they’ve gotten themselves into.

//But in short, when it comes to the Danganronpa series and fangames, if you can do an ending that's better than this ending, then it's a good ending.

//And luckily for us, we still have three more final trials to talk about.

[3-2-whump]

Aftermath of a Flicker of a Spark

<prev next>

A.K.A., that chapter was long as hell, so I broke it up a little and now here's Julio's POV about what just happened, set one week after he first met Khaled

TW/CW: masturbation reference. That's the only big thing that's sticking out to me. Wow, only one TW on the list!

Author's Note: I know like a high school level of Spanish, I studied abroad in a Spanish-speaking country for one semester in college, and I spent more than two hours researching what cholo Spanish sounds like. That being said, if I got anything wrong, please tell me, and be kind about it. I am only human, but I would very much like to know one way or the other <3

A warm slender neck underneath his tattooed fingers. A defiant scowl on blood stained lips. A pair of the prettiest, deepest, darkest, eyes that swallowed the light of his ember ones in their gravitational pull. Those eyes had haunted his dreams, his fantasies, his nearly every waking moment for the past week. And the rest of his boys knew it.

“Jefe! Baja de las nubes!” 

Julio’s breath spasmed in his chest as Alphonso punctuated his reprimand with a thump to the back. “That’s not where his head is,” Luis chuckled, leaning back on the shabby couch in the abandoned warehouse. Julio rubbed his shoulder, cursing as he swatted at his cousin with his free hand. “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you? The Costa guy?”

“His name is Khaled,” he corrected. He shooed Luis over with a wave of his hand and plopped down on the worn couch cushion next to him. “And no, I am not thinking about him, really!” He huffed out a sigh, rubbing his hands through his now evenly-shortened, dark brown hair. He had shorn off his stupid mohawk after their fight; no way he could keep it after that.

Sometimes, he could still feel the phantom pull of Khaled’s fingers through his long strip of hair. It was the hardest he’d ever cum in recent memory, imagining those fingers in his hair. He shaved it soon after.

The faint chime of Julio’s text tone, followed by the speed at which he whipped out his phone, exposed his lie immediately. It wasn’t him. He pocketed his phone and let out a frustrated sigh. His olive-skinned cheeks burned red with embarrassment as his gang laughed at him.

“Ohhhh, Jefe’s in looooove!”

“Shut up!” In a gesture unbecoming of the Boss of Juicio Divino, he crossed his arms against his chest and slumped against the couch like a petulant child. “It’s not that I like him like him. I just appreciate his fighting,” he muttered.

“Did anybody else find those scars on his back unsettling?” Luis asked.

A few murmurs of agreement echoed through the garage.

Julio felt the glowing warmth of attraction toward the mysterious young man sputter like a nascent ember in the wind. He didn’t forget those scars. And that tattoo placement ���usually, only the highest-ranking members of the Costas got the skull and snake, and even then, it would be proudly inked on the front, on their chest. So why was his on his back shoulder, along with all those scars? Julio asked himself. Something was off. And, as one who was never immune to a good mystery to solve, Julio Lazaro Estrada was going to figure out what it was.

The text tone went off again, and Julio whipped out his phone with as much enthusiasm as the last time. This time however, his enthusiasm was not in vain. Glaring brightly from his screen were a string of ten numbers and a short message.

It’s Khaled. I want to talk.

His lips parted into an ear to ear grin.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee

@generic-whumperz @bamber344

[darkwitch1999]

☕🥱A Random Headcanon: How Marc Got The Coffee Part I 🥱☕

Collège Françoise Dupont: Boiler Room

Nathaniel: (visibly annoyed) So we’re really doing this, huh?

Nino: Yep.

(Down in the boiler room, Nino had set up a small desk with a desk lamp, a radio that played what sounded like the soundtrack of an old detective movie, a stack of books, and a manila file folder. The teen wore a fake mustache and an old-style detective costume. On each opposing side of the desk stood two chairs, the one on the right being currently occupied by an exhausted Marc Anciel. The poor, tired writer was suffering from the effects of his caffeine crash and could barely keep his eyes open. His make-up was a dreadful mess from when he had his breakdown earlier, his hair was a frazzled mess, the dark circles encased around his eyes looked as though they had gotten deeper and darker, and his body that had before trembled and twitched so terribly now struggled against the intense feeling of exhaustion. Out of earshot in a corner, Nino and Nathaniel discussed Nino’s plan, which Nathaniel found to be very unnecessary, and annoying, and he would have been against taking any part in this ridiculous plan if the artist was not worried about his partner’s well-being.)

Nino: I’m sorry, Nath, but this is the only way.

Nathaniel: There are more than one, much better ways we could handle this! I don’t think this is best for Marc’s well-being right now. Just look at him! (points to the exhausted writer) He needs sleep!

Nino: Look, I get it. Marc’s crashing down from the caffeine and needs rest. But we have to do this for his own good! We need to find out where or more specifically, who did he get that coffee from! (starts counting off his fingers) The first time this happened he asked you to buy the coffee for him because he knew you didn’t know he couldn’t have it. The second time he took advantage of Rose’s kindness and trusting nature to secure the coffee. This time, however, he must have gone to someone who didn’t know that he couldn’t have coffee, and since no one is fessing up, we will have to find out who the guilty culprit is.

Nathaniel: But couldn’t we just ask him after he’s had time to rest and recover? Interrogating him when he’s in this state just seems too cruel. It feels like we’re treating him like some dangerous criminal. 

Nino: (puts a reassuring hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder) Nath, I don’t want to watch him suffer any more than you do, but I’m afraid it has to be this way to prevent another episode from ever happening again. If we let him sleep first, he’ll have more energy and focus to come up with a lie or ID a scapegoat, and it will be even harder to get Marc to confess the truth. Marc may be more reasonable when he’s off the coffee, but he definitely wouldn’t give up his supplier willingly, especially if he knows that the rest of us don’t know who gave him his fix.

Nathaniel: (shoots Nino an incredulous look) “Supplier”? Really, Nino?

Nino: (defensively) Hey, technically caffeine is considered a drug! I looked it up!

Nathaniel: (crosses his arms) Not an illegal one. Hence why I feel like you are treating Marc like a dangerous criminal.

Nino: Oh come on, Nath! The last thing I want to do is treat Marc like a criminal! 

Nathaniel: (raises an eyebrow) Then what’s with the Sherlock Holmes cosplay?

Nino: Because we’re trying to solve a mystery and I thought it would fit the aesthetic! (sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose).

Nathaniel: (appears hesitant) I still don’t like this….this feels like torture.

Nino: Nath, please trust me. I swear we’re not going to torture Marc. Just give us thirty minutes or so to question him, an hour at most. If he doesn’t confess within that amount of time, we’ll back off and let him get some sleep. On the other hand, if he tells us who supplied him with the coffee before the time is up, we’ll let him sleep sooner. And I promise, I’ll back off if he reaches his limit. Whatever happens during this, I won’t make Marc suffer more than he already has.

(Nathaniel pondered for a moment, considering Nino’s plan and compromise. The artist still felt conflicted about putting his partner through an interrogation while he was so sleep-deprived. He knew how physically exhausting the combination of caffeine withdrawal and insomnia from the previous night was on the writer along with the mental and emotional exhaustion of the pressure that Marc was clearly under mixed in with the aftermath of his breakdown from earlier. Nathaniel wanted Marc to rest. He wanted Marc to get better. He wanted to see that beautifully contagious and unburdened smile spread across his partner’s face again and never to see that strained and unhinged smile or the exhausted frown again. However, as guilty as Nathaniel felt for even considering going along with Nino’s plan, he also knew that Nino made some truthful points to defend his plan. Nathaniel didn’t want to admit it, but Nino was right when he argued that Marc wouldn’t easily name whoever gave him the coffee. Rose and himself were willing to own up to mistakes those times they had given Marc coffee, but this time no one is willing to admit that they had given Marc coffee. And knowing the writer, he would try to play off that “everything was fine” and there was no need to worry about who gave him the coffee, desperately trying to avoid talking about what had been bothering him so much and what was causing all the stress and pressure that he was under in the first place. Marc was never one to be willing to talk about his problems with others and always tried to appear as if everything was okay as best he could because he didn’t want to make others feel worried about him. If they were going to have any chance of finding out how Marc got coffee, now was their best and possibly only time while the writer didn’t have the energy to resist telling the truth.)

Nathaniel: (sighs) Forty minutes. We’ll question him for forty minutes and no more. And when I say “that’s enough”, I mean that’s enough. We won’t push him any farther than he can handle.

Nino: (nods in agreement) Alright, deal! Now that that’s settled, let’s get to it. Get ready to assume your role, good cop!

(Nino took a deep breath in and out as he adjusted his usual demeanor into a more serious demeanor as he now bore a stoic expression on his face. As Nino started walking towards the desk, Nathaniel rolled his eyes in annoyance.)

Nathaniel: (annoyed) Right, forgot that Nino wanted to do “Good Cop, Bad Cop” too.

(The two boys approached the desk where the exhausted writer now had his head face down on the desk, moaning in discomfort. Nino sat in the desk chair opposite the writer while Nathaniel stood next to the cosplaying detective. The “detective” then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a tube of bubble solution and a bubble wand.)

Nino: (blows bubbles from the bubble wand with a stern look) Rise and shine, Marc.

Nathaniel: (smiles nervously) H-Hey Marc…um…how are you feeling?

(Marc rolls his head to the side, revealing his dreadfully exhausted face to the other two boys.) 

Marc: (moans) My head…feels like it's going to split open…

Nino: (blows another bubble) Mhm. That would be the caffeine withdrawal hangover for you. Though we both already know that you are well familiar with the feeling.

Nathaniel: (shoots Nino a warning look) Nino…

Nino: (clears his throat, unfazed by Nathaniel’s glares) Anyway, enough beating around the bush. It’s time we all talk.

(Marc lifted his head off the table to give the “detective” an annoyed, tired look. His expression then turned into one of confusion as he took notice of the outfit that the young boy was wearing. The writer turned to look at Nathaniel with an eyebrow raised in confusion.)

Marc: Nath, why is Nino dressed as Sherlock Holmes?

Nathaniel: (sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose) I have asked the same question, Marc. 

Marc: Wait, does that mean you are supposed to be Watson?

Nathaniel: (shakes his head and glances annoyed at Nino) No, apparently I’m supposed to be “good cop”.

Marc: (tilts his tired head in confusion) Wait…(yawns)...I’m confused….(points to Nathaniel) If you’re “good cop”...(points to Nino) and you’re “Sherlock Holmes”....then who’s “bad cop”...or…what’s even going on here? What are you guys even doing?

Nathaniel: (smirks) Actually, Nino’s supposed to be the “bad cop”. The Sherlock Holmes cosplay is just Nino doing his own thing.

Marc: (gives Nino an incredulous look) You do realize your “Sherlock Holmes” cosplay doesn’t make any sense if you guys are doing “Good Cop, Bad Cop”, right? I mean, for one thing, Sherlock Holmes was far too intelligent and dignified to resort to such a cliche interrogation tactic that wasn’t even developed during his time! Not to mention that Sherlock Holmes didn’t even work for the British Police! Yes, they did work together on a few cases, specifically with Inspectors Lestrade and Gregson the most, but still-...

Nino: (slams his hand hard on the desk, startling Marc with a jump) That’s enough out of you! Nathaniel and I are the ones asking the questions here, Anciel!

Marc: (rolls his eyes) And I thought Jean was over dramatic…

Nino: (regains his composure and clears his throat again) Anyway, I hardly think that you’re in any position to judge my choices right now. After all, you’ve made some rather “questionable” decisions yourself recently, now have you?

Marc: Not more questionable than your choice of interrogation methods…or fashion…

Nino: Got nothing to say, huh? That’s fine, we’ll start things off then. (opens the manila folder) I don’t care to mince words with you, so I’m just going to come out and say it. (picks up three pictures from the folder) We all know that someone gave you coffee and we know that someone had to be someone who didn’t know that you couldn’t have coffee for reasons that we all know too well, i.e. one of these three prime suspects.

(Nino places all three photos in front of Marc. The first photo was of Zoé Lee, the second was a photo of Devin Nolan, and the third photo was of Noelle Odeja. Marc takes a brief look at the photos and averted his gaze away from the pictures.)

Marc: You don’t know what you’re talking about, Nino. You couldn’t even be more wrong. (smirks tiredly) That ridiculous hat you’re wearing might be too tight.

Nino: (smirks, unfazed by Marc’s remark) Seeing as though you still have enough energy to be cheeky, you’ll have no problem naming your supplier.

(Nathaniel rolls his eyes at Nino using the word “supplier” again.)

Marc: What makes you think that someone gave me the coffee? How do you know I didn’t just get the coffee myself?

Nino: You mean other than the fact that you’ve done this before?

Nathaniel: (places a hand gently on the writer’s shoulder) Marc, we know you didn’t get the coffee yourself. We know your moms won’t let you have coffee and for good reasons, too. (The writer shifted his eyes away from Nathaniel, but the artist continued.) We also know that the coffee you’ve been drinking is from your mama’s shop since you would never betray the family business by drinking coffee from a different coffee shop, which brings us to the ultimate reason why we know that someone bought the coffee for you. You would never even think of trying to steal coffee from your mama because too good of a person. 

(Marc remained silent, knowing he couldn’t argue with their reasons given that they were right. Marc was raised too well to steal anything and would feel like a traitor if he tried to buy coffee from anywhere other than his mama’s shop. Nino noticed how quiet the writer had become and smiled a satisfied smirk.)

Nino: (smugly) I’ll take your silence as proof that we’re right. Now then, as we speak, our three prime suspects are currently being interrogated by my lovely partner and her best friend…

Marc: (rolls his eyes in annoyance) Great…Alya and Marinette are doing this too, huh? Let me guess, is Alya dressed up as well? Is she Watson? Or maybe she’s that reporter from New York who always writes about Majesta?

Nathaniel: (raises an eyebrow) C’mon Marc, it’s Alya. 

Marc: Yeah, you’re right, Nath. (smirks at Nino) She doesn’t quite share the same flair for the overdramatic as other people do (snickers).

Nino: (slightly offended) Mock me all you want, Anciel. One way or another, we are going to find out the truth. We don’t care how long it takes. We’ll keep going all day and night if we have to.

Marc: (smiles smugly) We can’t stay on school grounds past five.

Nathaniel: And we’re not doing this any longer than forty minutes.

Nino: We’ll keep going till five if we have to.

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

Detective Nino is on the case (whether anyone asks or not)! Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this continuation of the "Why Marc Shouldn't Have Coffee" saga. I was going to do a full headcanon, but I decided to split it into parts since it was getting rather long. Probably a bit out of character for Marc to be a sarcastic, smart mouth in this headcanon, but in his defense, he's exhausted. Stay tuned for part two when we read about Alya interrogating the three suspects. Who do you think did the crime? Share your thoughts, opinions, and theories about the guilty party.

@andromeda612 @artzychic27 @username8746489 @nerd-chocolate @imsparky2002 @msweebyness

[intothewestwing]

ch 9. - If I Can't Love Her

It was only a white lie, really, when she had told sirs Cogsworth and Lumiere that she was ready for bed. Belle didn't have a habit of being untruthful. In fact, she was too honest, more than anything, which she often did not recognize was an unwelcome trait.

In Cogsworth's tour of the castle, he often spoke of the lavish parties and events that used to take place. The glittering attire, the elite attendees, the imported decor and cuisine... It was all in "exquisite taste", he had said.

Belle had tried to ask about the magic that quite obviously surrounded the place and its inhabitants, but Lumiere quickly would change the subject and encourage his partner to share more information about the architectural design, or the many, many art pieces throughout the galleries.

What happened here? She wondered.

It was if they feared discussing it. And this was perhaps clearer the further she ventured into the forbidden West Wing. The more she saw, the more horrified she was.

Was the destruction of The West Wing the result of the Beast's anger? The scattered claw marks and scratches up the walls seemed to prove this so.

It was only until she stood outside the door to the main suite that she had any sort of hesitation. The layout was identical to the East, but clearly differed in its state of upkeep. This seemed intentional to Belle, as she could only assume it wasn't just forbidden for her, but for everyone but Him.

With a breath of confidence, Belle pushed open the doors to the suite, and was met with a cold breeze and a stench of disrepair.

The monster's lair, she thought.

It reminded her of one of her storybooks, where adventurers entered a monsters lair, only to find the remains of their missing companions. A mystery solved, but at what cost?

She shivered as she stepped over broken glass and ducked under torn, falling curtains. As she did so, she prayed to any deity that would listen that the demolished furniture that spread across the suite weren't cursed companions like those in the rest of the castle.

She didn't want to know the answer to that mystery, even if the answer wouldn't surprise her.

The suite was dimly lit by a distant roaring fireplace, and it wasn't until she stepped in front of the light and scared herself with her shadow that she noticed the array of paintings along the walls. And after searching for and lighting a small candle, she approached the watchful faces of the paintings and took in every detail she could.

This may be her one chance to find some real answers about the nobility who once resided here.

There were three paintings in total: A completely destroyed portrait of what she could only assume was of the king, a portrait of a woman, a queen, that remained completely untouched, and-

Belle gasped as she saw it. It was torn, by the Beast's claws no doubt, but the eyes... The eyes were unmistakable. The same eyes she had seen in the statue from the passage. These were bright blue, but still filled with the same yearning and aching as the stony figure.

Hello again, she thought.

Though only a portrait, his emotion was clear; He was in pain. Perhaps he was just as trapped here as she was. Even in the portrait, she could feel the anguish they shared- the longing to be set free.

Belle held the candle closer to the painting, careful not to let the flame get too close. Paint was highly flammable, she recalled, as her father had accidentally set some of his work aflame some years back.

The light of her candle drew out the color and detail of the portrait, and almost brought a sense of life to it. She began to reach her hand out, to touch his face the same way she did the statue, but was interrupted by the flame dying, and burning wax dripping onto her hand.

She seethed as she dropped the candle onto the floor, and waited a few seconds for the initial pain to seize before rubbing the dried wax off of her hand. Belle scanned the room for a water pail, or even a flower vase to borrow its water from.

What she found instead was indeed a flower, but without a vase.

Suspended in the air, under a dome of glass, was a single rose.

Perhaps this was what Cogsworth had meant, by implying there was more magic to be found within the castle. This rose seemed anything but ordinary, as its pink glow beckoned her to it. She could've sworn she heard the wind whisper as Belle moved closer.

"Approach..." it called.

Upon further inspection, she saw it was missing the majority of its petals, and the remains of those it'd lost lay still on the table just below it, rotting away in silence. As she touched the glass barrier, the glass melted away and floated around her, as if the very magic that held this rose together was inspecting her in return. It slipped between the curls of her hair and touched the very ends of her eyelashes, before resting in acceptance, beckoning once more for her to engage with the rose.

But just before she could stroke it's delicate petals, the air shifted and warned her once more.

"Run!... Beware!...The Beast!..." It hissed.

"Don't touch that!" The Beast roared, leaping into the suite from the extended balcony. Had he been there the whole time?

Without warning, he shoved Belle away from the rose, and the floating glass returned to its dome structure, shielding the rose in its glassy prison once more.

"What did you do to it!" He growled as an accusation, rather than a question.

"N-Nothing!" Belle caught her breath in her throat as she attempted to push herself back up off of the floor. Her heart was racing as she searched for anything on the ground to defend herself with in case The Beast attacked her further.

Once he was sure the rose was still intact, he slowed his breath. "Why did you come here?" His voice was low and steady, which was almost scarier than his roaring.

"I-" Belle started, before he interrupted.

"I told you never to come here. You could have damned us all!" He refused to even look at her as he spoke. Did he really think so little of her as to not even look at her while he spoke? She thought. How entitled, how selfish, how like a monster.

The tense silence between them broke by the sound of Belle's soft sobbing as her fear began to rise. What would he do to her now? Turn her into furniture to destroy as well? Watch her burn as he used her limbs for kindling?

But her tears only brought Beast's attention to the damage he'd done.

"Oh no..." He began to panic. What would a gentleman do?

Beast reached for her arm to help her up, only for his claws to rip the sleeve off of her dress as she pulled away in fear. He looked down at his claws in horror.

"Don't touch me!" She begged in fear.

"N-No! I didn't mean-" He tried to explain.

"Don't come near me!" Belle pleaded as she found her footing and lifted herself off the ground, holding her shoulder where his claws from the tear had left deep scratches in her skin. As she lifted her hand, warm blood trickled down her arm.

Beast, horrified at what he'd done, froze in place, trying to find the words to say.

Belle wasn't one to break promises, but at the rate her stay at the castle was going, she wouldn't survive another night. Though she felt awful about leaving the castle's servants and the mystery prince from the painting behind, this wasn't a storybook. This wasn't a fairytale with a happy ending. There was no fantasy prince coming to rescue her. And the man with the sad eyes was just that: a fantasy.

It was clear to her now that the prince she longed to know was long dead and gone. She had to escape, for the both of them.

"Promise or no promise, I'm not staying here!" "No! Wait! Please!" The Beast begged, his voice breaking with desperation, but by the time he found the right words, Belle was already gone.

"I'm sorry!" He yelled after her. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I didn't mean to hurt you!"

He felt his legs begin to move, and before he knew it, he was chasing after her. Beast had finally made it to the grand hall before hearing the doors to the castle slam shut. He was too late.

Belle was gone.

[fivedayslater]

Part 18: Lounge

Dinner and a Murder: A Mr. Prince Mystery Masterpost

“Let’s check the lounge,” Sanji says as turns back to the room at large, “Since the candlestick that killed Nami came from here, I want to get a closer look.”

“Alright,” Zoro nods as he gestures in front of him, “Lead the way.”

Sanji begins circling the room. He spots a candlestick similar to the one that killed Nami on a nearby shelf, and sure enough there’s a spot in the accumulated dust where a second one would have gone.

“Looks like the candlestick did come from here,” he says as he turns back to Zoro, “You were right.”

“Of course I was right,” he scoffs, but he can’t hide the pleased smile on his face, and Sanji finds his own form as well.

The woodsmoke from the dying fire is heavy in the air as he keeps searching, tickling Sanji’s nose. As he approaches the fire, he recalls suddenly that the same smell was present on Ace’s body when he examined it earlier.

He looks back at the room, examining it in a new light as he says, “I think Ace may have been killed here.”

“Really?” Zoro frowns as he glances around too, his brow furrowing when he can’t see what Sanji sees, “How do you know?”

“The smoke smell,” he taps his nose, “His body had the same smell, even though he wasn’t in the lounge before dinner.”

“I see,” Zoro smiles as he turns back to him, “You really are something.”

Sanji blushes as he looks away, Zoro’s direct gaze making him feel too giddy, “Yes. Well. Any detective would have realized the same.”

“Why did you become a detective anyway?” Zoro asks as Sanji begins his search again, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Why did you become a detective anyway?”

“Hm?” Sanji hums as he stops and glances back at him, “What do you mean?”

“It’s not really a common career path,” Zoro says as he crosses his arms in front of him, “I don’t know any other detectives that weren’t cops first, but you don’t strike me as a cop.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Sanji says as he tries to figure out how to explain it to Zoro without revealing everything.

But in the end he realizes he doesn’t mind if he does. He wants Zoro to know about him, to understand him. Maybe after everything Zoro could accept him, maybe he could-

He cuts that thought off. No need to run away with himself.

Instead he decides to start from the beginning.

“When I was seventeen, my mother was killed.”

“What?” Zoro’s eye goes wide as he takes a step forward.

“...And I was the prime suspect.”

“What?” He repeats, harsher this time, an angry vengeance in his gaze despite the issue having long been resolved.

“The real killer considered me a nuisance and a burden and wanted me out of the way,” he explains as clinically as he can, “so he did everything he could to frame me. Planted evidence, coerced witnesses to lie, fed the investigators stories about my short temper and violent streak.” He shakes his head, “I think the only reason they didn’t arrest me right away was because I was still a minor and she was my mother.”

Zoro’s gaze goes impossibly soft, and Sanji has to look away again. Still, his presence is a solid comfort at his side, and it urges him to continue.

“I knew I didn’t do it,” he says, “And no one else was looking into other options, all convinced I did it.” He looks back to Zoro, “So I took matters into my own hands, and investigated it myself.” He shrugs, “Turns out I have a knack for seeing things that others miss, a charismatic personality that makes people want to talk, and an inability to take no for an answer.”

“That does sound like you,” Zoro chuckles, “And, you solved it in the end, right?”

“Yeah,” Sanji exhales slowly, “The killer turned out to be her husband. My birth father.”

Zoro’s jaw drops as he gapes at him, “Your father set you up?”

“He…was never a nice man.” 

“I’ll kill him,” Zoro says with a steel edge to his voice that makes Sanji shudder, “If I ever see him, he’s dead.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Sanji rests a hand on his arm, and rubs comforting circles into it with this thumb, causing Zoro to relax under his ministrations, “But it’s fine. It’s all over and done with.”

There is plenty more Sanji can say about that wretched scum masquerading as a human being, but he’d made the decision to wash his hands of him the moment the judge announced the guilty verdict. Instead he chose to focus on the things he did have, and the people who were there for him, “One of the investigators on the case – the only one who actually took me seriously – took me in afterwards. Taught me everything he knew. He was more of a father to me than that bastard ever was.”

“I…wow,” Zoro looks gobsmacked, and Sanji can’t blame him. He lived through it, and even he has trouble believing it happened, “I’m glad you found someone who cared about you. You deserve at least that much.”

Sanji’s face flushes at the softness in his tone, and clears his throat before he continues.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, pulling away to rub his own arm, “I realized there were a lot of people out there who were in that situation though, who have mysteries that need solving, or are being blamed for something that isn't their fault, and that I could help them. So I kept at the detective thing. I find the truth for them, so they never have to feel as helpless as I felt.”

“That’s…” Zoro’s looking at him again with that impossibly soft look, but now Sanji feels he can face it head on, assess it for what it’s worth, “That’s incredibly you, isn’t it?”

Sanji laughs, “Well, I can’t be anyone other than me.”

“And I’d never want you to.”

Sanji blushes and looks away again.

“You’ll solve this mystery too,” Zoro says. There’s a surety in his tone, as if he knows that to be a fact and is just waiting for Sanji to catch up, “You’ll find the truth here. If anyone can, it’s you.”

“I…” Sanji isn’t sure what to say in the face of Zoro’s confidence, so he settles for, “Thanks, Mosshead.”

“Anytime,” Zoro laughs, reaching out to brush his fingers against Sanji, just for a moment, before pulling away again and nodding to the rest of the room, “So, you see anything else we need in here?”

Sanji takes another look around, spotting something shiny by the fireplace, something else under the couch, papers in the trash can, and a cloth tucked in between the cushions of the armchair.

[lhs3020b]

Eversion, by Alastair Reynolds

Let's try reviewing a book, shall we?

I just finished "Eversion" by Alastair Reynolds, and I have thoughts.

Oh, and everything will be spoilers after the cut...

Dr Silas Coade is the physician aboard the sailship Demeter, which is venturing north to investigate a mystery.

No, Dr Silas Coade is the physician aboard the steamship Demeter, which is sailing south to investigate a mystery in deepest Patagonia.

But no, no, Dr Silas Coade is the physician aboard the airship Demeter, which is shortly due to enter a fissure into the Hollow Earth to investigate a mystery far below the surface of the not-entirely-physically-plausible bauble-planet...

But no, no, no ... this isn't it, is it SILAS? You need to wake up before time runs out, entombed here below the ice-crust on Jupiter's moon Europa - Silas? Silas are you listening? Silas are we about to do this again, and what do you mean Dupin hasn't solved the eversion problem yet -

Cut

As quickly becomes apparent, Silas is apparently stuck in some sort of fantastical loop. Said loop appears to be linked to a story that he is attempting to write, in all iterations of it. The structure of the setting varies - the technology level goes up over each loop, but the nature of each loop is less plausible than the one preceding it. The very first loop is something that could believably have happened. The second loop is starting to stretch things a little - how did this crappy ship get all the way down to Patagonia? - but it's not quite jumped the shark, at least not yet. While it's subtle, the behaviour of gravity inside the Hollow Earth is wrong (there shouldn't be a "down" inside a uniform self-gravitating hollow spehere). Oh, and the shell-planet is also self-evidently absurd, though no-one living there sees it as such. The last, and obviously-delusional, loop is straight out of a '40s SF pulp magazine. (In fact it bore more than a passing resemblance to bits of Triplanetary Patrol by E.E. 'Doc' Smith, which I'm pretty sure was deliberate on the part of the author!)

There are several common features to each loop. Silas is always the ship's physician. Ramos has always suffered some manner of head injury. The Demeter, whatever class of vehicle it is, is always voyaging toward a mysterious destination that can only be reached through a fissure, though the nature of the fissure changes each time. In each stage, Dupin, the young mathematician, is always ill and is always working on a problem related to the concept of "eversion". Dupin's condition also progresses - he visibily deteriorates between each cycle, even though the delusions themselves reset. When the Demeter traverses the fissure, they find a bizarre, menacing construction called the Edifice, which appears to be of inhuman origin and whose purpose is not clear. They also find the wreck of another ship, the Europa, which apparently got there first. The crew of the Demeter discover they have been lied to. Disaster swiftly follows, ending with Silas's death.

Interestingly, in every cycle Silas has experienced some form of psychotropic disorder. Usually this presents as an addiction, which he is hiding from the crew (laudanum, then morphine, then the "Radium draught" from the Hollow Earth episode), though later on it takes the form of a supposed indoctrinal machine called the Plastic Educator. It is clear from these episodes that Silas does not have the full facts of his situation - or, perhaps, is hiding from them - though what exactly the real problem is remains unclear.

Also, there is always lightning.

Enter Ada Cossile. The mysterious woman is not present in absolutely every iteration of the cycle - she's notably absent aboard the Interplanetary Patrol spaceship - but when she is present, she acts both as a critic and somewhat of a temptress-figure to Silas. She critiques his writing, often quite harshly, but she also implies (or outright states) that the world that Silas occupies is a lie. She seems to know more than she should.

It slowly emerges that Cossile is trying to draw Silas back to reality, or at least what she views as reality. They are indeed on board a vehicle called the Demeter, except it is actually a lander from a spacecraft, currently trapped below the ice on Jupiter's moon Europa. It is close to an alien artifact known as the Edifice, and there is another wrecked ship - also called the Europa - nearby, as it appears that a second expedition was launched without the knowledge of Demeter's crew. Also, the crews of both have been abducted and are now trapped inside the Edifice, which is stated to be slowly mind-draining them toward death, and it's up to Ada and Silas to save them.

But the reality of the situation is simply too much, and Silas keeps fleeing from it into a hallucinatory fugue-state.

These are not the only revelations, though I have deliberately not mentioned a few points, so as not to spoil every surprise :)

Eversion is a page-turner - I found it hard to put down. The underlying mystery is interesting, and it poses some hard questions about loss and sacrifice - how much sacrifice is justified to save others? As is often the case with Reynolds novels, there's a theme of forbidden knowledge. It would have been better for everybody if they'd simply ignored the Edifice in the first place and no expedition to Jupiter had ever been launched. When Silas learns the truth, it doesn't make him happy, and in fact he's at his happiest at the very end when he abandons reality for the final time and goes to live permanently in what's implied to be his final fugue-state.

There are also - possibly - some unanswered questions. I'm not 100% convinced we've had the entire truth about who or what Ada Cossile was. There could be some hints that she too either does not know the full facts of her situation, or is presenting an edited version. There's one, brief scene in which Silas perceives her as something monstrous rather than alluring. Also, she's very keen that someone has to remain behind inside the Edifice and she's also very keen for the eversion problem to be solved - and who else might be interested in both these outcomes? After all, the eversion seems to be linked to whatever process via which the Edifice became damaged in the first place - a solution to the eversion could also be beneficial for the Edifice. One can wonder if perhaps it realised that the escape of some of its prisoners was inevitable, so instead it devised a "controlled crash" scenario where it's still able to get at least some of what it wants. (Dupin remains entombed within, and the Edifice has control of the wrecks of both the Europa and the Demeter. And with eversion solved, perhaps it can heal itself.) In this model, one has to wonder whether perhaps Ada has been influenced by the Edifice, or may indeed be an avatar of it? It's interesting that Silas seems to keep feeling a need to flee from her, even while he remains fascinated by her - perhaps on some level, he's sensed that something is "off" about her. It's also notable that Ada has a colour-motif associated with her - yellow! - and this is in a novel that is not generally heavy on strong visual imagery. (I also find myself reminded of the famous King In Yellow, a well-known proto-Lovecraftian work, though perhaps this might be a bit of a reach.)

Anyway, none of this is proved - perhaps Ada's story actually is the truth! - though I think a case can be made for it.

Overall I'd say that Eversion is an interesting, challenging novel, and definitely one worth reading.

[theressomethinghappeninginparis]

So, it's eh- complicated.

Trust me, shit's not on fire, but I have more contact to Luddick than I ever wanted, I found the Strahov and I know how to get there. I'm still not sold on blackmailing the reporter since he got caught in this...unfortunate mess on accident, but I have no choice. And I will surely not get back to Paris without solving this mystery. I am locked in my hotel room and shoved the cupboard in front of the door and shut the blinds. Hello paranoia!

Transcript of the first and second page: I contacted Luddick and it went as expected, he's furious over my threat and I really did not intend to upset him this way. But do I have a choice? He said he would call me, I will wait until he does so. He did, and fed me information that can be considered secret shit again.

What I gathered in the call: - Vasiley had ties to the Madia and owned something they wanted. They "set the Montrum on him" - The corpse was not to be found since said mafia cleaned all uo and the evidence is mostly gone - (in the middle of his gibberish I suggested to myself to look for the woman who talked to him for infromation) - He knows who Bouchard is, mot much detail, and is oblivious to his death - aaand I should never call him again and the Strahov won't let me in anyway.

What I gathered is not much, but it raises -of course- even more questions. New information is that if the Monstrum was set on Vasiley it was an assassination, and I think I know now the Monstrum is related to Eckhardt for sure, and the woman he talked to has to be Lara Croft, who he probably got into the Strahov. New questions that have risen are how to get into the Strahov without raising suspicion and if the mafia-plot is a cover up for The Agency or are they the same or related? That would tie all to Eckhardt. There's supposedly a Sanitarium in or close to the Strahov, is that my way in? And, Boaz might have had her own place to work at, but did her coworker Grant Muller, too? Is there a botanical research facility?

Transcript of the third page:

Hahaha, you won't beleive it, even if I teleported you to see for yourself. The oldest Sanitarium in Prague is located UNDER the STRAHOV. I don't think that's a coincidence. So there's of course not much to fing on the whole building, who operated it or what the institution behind it was; all I got is this:

it's not even 23 years old, yet was abandoned and it not used anymore

it was built by an unknown party, yet financed by the Argentinian government (Boaz!)

it used to be a place to stay, including a cafeteria, rooms for entertainment, a medical facility and a research area

there were not only Czech people there

it has 8 floors, all being cellars and the eighth is the lowest, where the people lived

there's even a pool for swimming classes

and after an incident it was shut down and never oficially used again.

So it's...a lost place, right?

Transcript of the fourth, fifth and sixth page:

There used to be several parts of the institute that were used accordingly. The overview is as follows:

Dining Room; used as a cafeteria. All patients were to gather and eat together. The food was usually something easy to process and handed by the staff. The tables were for groups only, so no one would be left out. Laboratory; Filled with a lot of paperwork and shelves with information. The patients which required therapy in person were talked to and the notes were analyzed for better treatment. The files were printed (back then that was cool) and categorized. Also, the individual prescription of any of each person was noted among the process of their recovery. Testing Room; A room to evaluate a patient's condition and character. There was a lie detector to not allow contradictory information on the patient's condition, as a huge amount of information on their health is gathered as today via person-to-person evalation. Acupuncture Room; A place to relax and get some Chinese acupuncture. In a lot of medical conditions it is known to bring relief without actual pharmaceutical drugs. The patient would lie on a bed or semi-bed and relax, then one would select the place according to the pain on the body and get punctured by needles. Sometimes the relief came immediately, sometimes one had to redo the treatment every so often. Acupuncture is known to be relatively gentle to the body and psyche. Morgue; When people lived int he Sanitarium and died due to age, rarely due to illness, they were kept int he morgue after death. It's basically a lot of fridges on the wall where bodies are kept fresh until a pathologist would check on the cause of death. Later an undertaler would be called to pick up the dead and contact the family to schedule the burial.

So far, so normal. Not sure if all of the 8 floors contain the same rooms or if they have more specializted floors that have all of the basic rooms. There used to be a visitor's entry which is now closed, you can only enter if you pass the Strahov. Great. I have to find another way...what if there os another way in? I need to check if Muller has his own facility, liek Boaz apparently did. They surely wouldn't use the same place. Could this have been hers?

Transcript of the seventh and eighth page:

I have tried to get in touch with Luddick again, but he doesn't answer. He has yet to update his socials and there is no new article or post by him. It's been a day and a talkative guy like him would not just disappear. He'd love to yell at me at the phone. Where the hell is he? I have aquired an ID for the medical center (which is being sold at the black market for urban exlorers) which should open me ways in, shouldn't it? I sketched a map of the center and my plan to get in, in case the doors are still to be used. If not, I might have to use force, or...something.

My path so far: I'll try to get in and update my way.

UPDATE 1: I just had to cross some loosely made barricades. The doors to the reception room were open. UPDATE 2: My security card worked! It's such a silly thing to say, but it opened. I'm pretty sure this is part of the urban exploring. I'm heading downstairs and there's dust and spiders everywhere. They surely made this look cool. UPDATE 3: I could use the lift, and I prayed to five different deities since this place is running on stolen electricity from somwhere. There was a door labled "The Biodome", I'm still contemplating whether or not to use the lift further down. I stopped since it started making weird noises. UPDATE 4: The electricity is down! I have no idea if that was my mistake. Thank god I haven't t puched the lift again, but I also cannot go back now. I mean...this place is being explored usually, so someone will find me, even if I cannot use the lift now. But maybe the Biodome is the place I'm looking for?

I can hear nothing specifically, it feels like the room after the door is enormously large. Sometimes I think leaves are rustling? I'm contemplating moving further in, or starting to panic and scream my lungs out. But if the Strahov is near I might as well be shot on sight.

Yeah, I'm eating a cereal bar and considering my options. I wish I had someone to talk to. It's getting lonely here.

[robotstrategy]

Recalled • Part 2 • 15 - Sam

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 2 Masterlist • Next If it’s not a support group day or the weekend most of Sam’s days play out the same way, breakfast in the mourning, two periods of classwork, lunch, two more periods of classwork, and finally at 3 PM he can go relax with his roommates.

Sam sits down for breakfast with his other classmates, Sam won't lie, he wishes he could take classes with the older kids, because of Nero the friends he makes are approximately two to three years older than him, and everyone who’s around fourteen like him just feels like a baby. 

His other classmates problem-solve equations and discuss topics from other classes, while he dozes off imagining what his other friends are going through right now.

“Sam, do you know the answer to this question?” Someone asks.

Sam snaps out of his daze to look at the classmate beside him showing him a math equation.

“It’s -1, Madelin, weren’t you supposed to finish this last night?”

Madelin becomes flustered, “I- I did, I just need help with the last question.”

Sam turns away from his classmates again, he gets up from the bench and sets his tray down on the pile and the garbage and recycling.

Heading down the hallway he watches the military boeufs outside, they’re practicing aiming. There’s a drill sergeant next to Nero as she holds a pistol in her left hand, they’re trying to find a way for her to pull the trigger, if she can’t do it in time they're thinking of cloning her left hand and swapping it out. Nero eventually goes back to using her right hand, she aims quite well.

Sam enters the Education Wing, he goes to the second story, entering his homeroom. He sits at the front next to the window, watching the busy streets of Indianapolis.

“I heard you went to the support group this weekend, did you make any friends there?”

Sam looks over to the teacher who walks in.

“Yeah, a Recall named Roland.”

“How old is he?”

“About 19.”

“Don’t you have any friends your age?”

“Not really.”

All his other classmates come in as the bell rings, and the teacher goes over the math homework, of course Sam gets everything correct, a little ‘Thank you Sam.’ can be heard as they correct the last question.

The teacher hands out a page to each student. ‘Find your body family, write down each Rewind you know that shares a body part with you’ it reads.

“This work doesn’t count, so don’t feel pressured to do it, but it is a way to get you out of the classroom.” The teacher exclaimed.

Sam and the others walk out of the classroom, there’s no use for Sam to go ask around if he shares any body parts with others as he’s already asked about it before. Ainsley, Nero, Micheal, Chauntee, Bruce, and Chris are all the Rewinds he shares body parts with, after writing down their names on a window sill outside of the classroom he goes down the stairs back to the Military Boeuf site. 

He walks up the fence and waves at Nero, Nero after the ‘OKAY’ from a drill sergeant walks to the outside of the fence.

“Hey there ya little freak, did teach let you get some fresh air or are you already becoming a Class Rebel?” She headlocks him and gives him a noogie.

“No, I’m just out here for classwork, although I kinda wish I was rebelling.”

Nero puts her hands on her hips, “Still no friends in your class, what a loser!” She laughs.

“Ugh! But they all act like babies!”

“And you’re a Drama Queen.”

“Am not!”

“Oh yeah?”

Nero licks her left hand from bottom to top before shoving it in Sam’s face, he tries to push it away, but his little twig arms can’t beat her muscular ones.

“EEEWWWWWW, noooooo, you got freaking mystery spit all over me! My face is ruined!” Sam yells.

“First of all, I did not get it all over you, I got in on your face. Second of all, it’s spit, it’s clear, there’s no staining, and I don’t have mouth herpes. Third of all, I did not somehow jumble up your facial features, you’re fine Sam.” Nero replies.

Sam sighs. “You’ve got it so much better than me Nero, you get to do your job, and all I get to do is dumb classwork.”

Nero’s face tenses up, before she can say anything a whistle is blown on the other side of the fence. She walks back and speaks to him, “Don’t you ever say that again!'' Then she returns to her post.

Sam walks back up the stairs back to the classroom, there’s already a few of his classmates sitting at their desks.

“Did you find everyone, Sam?” The teacher asks.

“Yeah.”

“Good! Now just wait until the others get back.”

Sam looks over to his classmates playing Quack Dilly Oso.

“Would you like to join us Sam?” one of them asks.

“And play the game that Clappers dressing as caretakers use to blow up preschools, yeah no thanks.” He replies.

The rewind just smiles and shrugs and goes back to playing.

Soon enough everyone comes back to the classroom, they all talk with each other about their new discoveries. 

“You know that girl I look up to,” One of them starts. “Turns out we share a few body parts, it’s so cool!”

“Hey Sam, who do you share body parts with?” Madelin asks.

“Oh yeah, I’ve got Ainsley, Nero, Micheal, Chauntee, Bruce, and Chris.” He tells her.

“Isn’t Nero, like, aged out of the system, she’s gonna get drafted soon right?” Another one asks.

“Yes, she’ll be out in a few months, once they get her a new hand.” The teacher responds.

“Wait, drafted?! I’ll still get to see her, right?” Sam asks.

Everyone looks at Sam with apologetic looks. “Well, if she gets a job as a guard then maybe, but she’ll most likely be put in the military, and Sam, sometimes people don’t come back from tours.” The teacher tells him. 

Sam’s eyes go wide and watery, he doesn’t wait for the bell, or to be excused, or asks to even be excused. He just gets his bag and bolts for the door, he runs down the hallway as people call after him, he doesn’t stop, he just keeps going down the stairs to the lower hallway until his body slams into someone.

“Ewah! Sam, watch where you’re going!” Sam looks up to see Ian and Tonya standing in front of him.

“Oh gosh, are you alright Sam? You look like you’ve been crying.” Tonya picks up Sam, dusting him off. 

“They, they talked about Nero maybe dying at her job, I don’t want Nero to die!” He confesses.

“Oh, Sam.” Tonya pulls Sam into a hug, “Well it is a possibility in the military,” Tonya shoots Ian a dirty look for what he just said. “But, it’s still a sad thing to think about.” He continues.

“Why don’t you sit with us today at lunch?” Tonya suggests.

“But aren’t I supposed to sit with my grade?”

“Eh, I don’t think the lunch guards really care, sure, I’m not setting the best example as a future teacher by letting you sit with us, but I don’t care, because you're sad, and I don’t want you to be sad.”

At lunch, Sam gets to sit with the seventeen-year-olds, surprised that the lunch guards really don’t care. During that time, he, Ian, and Tonya discuss what they can do after school.

“I could teach you how to play chess, you’ll be so concentrated that’ll you forget you were ever upset at all.” Tonya proposes.

“You know how to play chess?” Ian questions. 

“Yeah, when I went to Miss Marple’s Academy for the Highly Gifted that one time, a girl there taught me how to play. I won one out of five rounds I played with her.” She exclaimed.

“How’d you even get to visit Miss Marple’s Academy for the Highly Gifted?”

“It was filled to the brim with siennas, they probably wanted brownie points.”

“Ah.”

“Do you have any ideas on what we could do Ian?” Sam asks.

“Actually, I do!” He pauses, “I was walking around the city on the weekend and saw that there was this cool arcade, and guess what, it stays open until midnight!”

“Oh, that sounds amazing! Do you think we could invite Nero, Sam?” Tonya asks.

“Yeah, I think she would enjoy it there, come to think of it, do you think we could invite Roland? He’s the Recall me and Nero sat with at the support group.”

“Oh, of course, gosh, I feel so bad for him, the stupid Rewind from StaHo 2 who sat beside me kept bad-mouthing the whole time.”

“Huh, never met a Recall before, this should be interesting.” Ian exclaims, “Well then it’s settled guys, tonight we go to the arcade!”

After lunch Sam goes back to class to be met with a plethora of apologies, especially from the teacher who realized that she hadn’t been sensitive enough about the subject, Sam brushes it off before going back to his spot, he stares out the window, the whole time, looking down the street to see if he can catch a glimpse of the arcade, he wonders where Roland lives and if he knows of the arcade. Sam suddenly realizes that it’s probably impossible to invite Roland if they don’t know where he lives, so he lets go of the invitation. Maybe the hospital nearby knows where Roland lives, but they probably wouldn’t tell 4 random Rewinds of his location. The bell rings, and Sam gets up from his seat and walks out the door.

Getting to his dorm the first thing he does is get his homework over with and then, picks through his small pile of clothes imagining what he might wear to the arcade tonight. After choosing an outfit and going downstairs to eat he lays on his bed, waiting for 5:30 PM to roll around so that Nero will be done with work for the day.

At 5:15 Sam heads downstairs to the StaHo’s common room, he meets up with Ian and Tonya. 

“Are you excited? ‘cause I’m excited!” Tonya asks.

“Yeah, but I realized we probably can’t invite Roland since we don't know where he lives.”

“Ah, shame.” She replies

Soon enough, Nero enters the common room with Ian, Sam, and Tonya cornering her at the entrance.

“Umm, what’s this about?” She asks, bewildered.

“We were gonna go to the arcade, we’d like to know if you’ll join us?” Ian announced.

“The arcade two blocks over, sure. It’s just the four of us?” She questions.

“Well I was gonna invite Roland, but…” Sam starts.

“You don’t know where he lives,” Nero responds.

“Yeah.”

Nero squints her eyes, thinking. “I could find him.”

“You’re not gonna do anything creepy right?” Ian asks.

“Oh god no, I think I’d scare the living daylight out of Roland if I did anything remotely weird,” Nero answered.

Confirming where they’re going to the receptionist, they head out the front door.

“Where are you going first?” Sam asks Nero.

“The hospital, and Sam, if I’m not with you at the arcade within two hours, call the police.”

[andhumanslovedstories]

Shows with cops will always need to balance "this is a real institution with real power and authority that should be forced to follow strict rules of conduct" with "here are the plot beats of Guy Solves Mystery." Cop shows make ideological arguments about what Law and Justice and Order all mean, and that argument is stretched over the frame of genre conventions. It's the anti-war movie problem--how do you negatively depict war without making it seem cool as hell? We like watching people do high-stakes exciting things, especially when it seems heroic, so you get these moments where a film is like "war is hell.........also every powerful, emotional, and meaningful moment in this film, everything that's gonna stick with you, needs the war to be happening and our characters to be participating in it." Likewise, we love mysteries. We love watching someone figure something out that someone else is trying to get hidden. It is very easy to write these stories starring cops because you don't need to do any setup. Why's this guy here? It's his job to investigate murders. Why don't people just ignore him? Because he's a cop. Great cool let's get to the plot.

The use of a real life profession to fill a character archetype for plot reasons creates ideological arguments within the text that creators aren't often intending. The creators of Columbo might not have been intending to make copaganda, but find any clip of the show on youtube and you'll see a dozen comments that are like "and THIS is why you never lie to the cops." The preternaturally intuitive character who is always right and always figures out the truth is a cop. He derives his authority from the state. It's okay for him to do whatever it takes to get his guy because from the start of the episode we know that he is right, this person is lying, they did do the murder. That doesn't need to be the intended takeaway for you to see that argument put forward in the text.

But these tensions work in multiple directions. The creators of Columbo have been like "we were not trying to do class commentary. We just wanted a stark contrast between the murderers and the guy investigating them." Columbo the character becomes more down-to-earth working class underdog the more his enemies become high class rich powerful elites. That means you also have to set him apart from the force he's working in, because if he has too many allies and too much support he loses his appeal. He has to be Not Like Other Cops.

boy god this has become a lot of text. For your troubles, here's a blurry screencap of Columbo's first appearance in this episode where he's scrambling around on the floor of a nice car trying to find his dropped cigar while two other cops laugh at him.

Delightful. Back to my point.

The creators also wanted Columbo to never be shown at the police station and to never have other officers be deferential towards him. This gets abandoned as the show goes on (you can decide how much that shift bugs you). I love an early moment when Columbo is at the station talking to another cop who's like "oh my god just wrap up the case already" and Columbo is like "I just can't figure out how to nail this guy," and the other cop says, sort of insultingly, "why don't you go up to this guy and tell him you just don't understand something about the bullet and ask him to explain it to you." I love that one of the first interactions we see of Columbo with his peers is a peer being like "I know how you work and I'm explicitly making fun of you for it." Again in terms of unintentional arguments put forward by the text, he's so neurodivergent-coded for real. Get bullied, short king.

ANYWAY I feel like I'm not making this episode sound fun. This episode is very fun. This episode is about taking down a powerful police commissioner who uses the position to cover up his own egregious crimes. He's not one of those sympathetic murderers. He sucks so bad and you can tell Columbo hates him. He's also Columbo's boss and explicitly tells him how he should be investigating this crime. To reveal the murderer, Columbo teams up with a thief to set a trap. The system is broken, so he must go outside it. The system is also where he derives his authority from, so he has to work within it. It's narratively delightful.

That's why I keep thinking about trickster figures. Columbo at his best is always so small and alone and clever. Columbo never investigates a peer. He never investigates someone poorer or weaker than him. To succeed, he has to be tricky. He has to provide the rope that the murderer will use to hang themselves, but also can't be the hangman. In real life, there's hmmmm maybe some problems with police officers setting elaborate traps to trick their suspects into incriminating themselves. Put politics in a little box for a moment and consider only what makes a good story--it's very unsatisfying for a powerful figure to cheat to bring down people weaker than him. The ideal Columbo episode makes him a snail fistfighting a lion. And also the lion is an asshole. When the snail cheats to win, you're like "well that just makes sense, and I'm very satisfied by this outcome."

Columbo season three episode eight “A Friend in Deed” is a great episode in terms of leaning into one of my favorite facets of Columbo: trickster figure serving comeuppance. I love episodes where Columbo seems very very small in the face of the murderer’s sheer power, like a fable where, through trickery, a mouse squirms its way out from under the paws of the cat and tricks the cat into punishing itself at the same time.

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Splinter by Jasper Hyde

Book Review 4/5 ☆s

I recently had the distinct pleasure of receiving an ARC copy of Splinter, a spooky, sexy Sleepy Hollow retelling by indie author, Gigi aka Jasper Hyde in exchange for an honest review. Let's talk about it.

So picture this, ya'll: I had just finished writing a little over 2500 words on my WIP, and wanted to give myself a little reward for doing so, as it's been my best word count this week. I knew I would be going to the library for a bit because my husband had an interview this afternoon. So I figured, What a perfect time to read a couple of chapters of Splinter! That "couple of chapters" was a lie, my friends. Instead, I was thrust into the world of Sleepy Hollow, a small town in Upstate New York and I did not want to leave until I had read every last page.

Our heroine is Doctor Drusilla Van Tassel, she's the Medical Examiner who finds herself investigating the gruesome deaths of her twin sister's friends.

You guessed it, ya'll - these cats have been losing their heads.

Meanwhile, Drusilla's former best friend/lover, the one and only and also hot as hell Ichabod Crane - monster hunter - just came back to town, and it turns out that he is on a mission too. Capture the Headless Horseman before any more people die. Seems simple enough, right?

Nope. Guess again!

Drusilla is not happy that Ichabod is back in town, but all of that changes when she comes face-to-face with the Headless Horseman, which leads her to discover that she has mysterious magic powers that she didn't know she had. Forced to turn to Ichabod for help after her sister goes missing, the two work together to uncover Drusilla's family secrets and find a way to banish the Headless Horseman for good.

Sounds awesome right?!

It was! I legit could not put this down. I started reading around 1:30 pm and finished at around 11 pm. The characters are so well thought out, relatable and their history so rich. The settings are vivid and really give you a feel for this quaint little town and literally makes you wanna visit to grab some coffee at The Grindhouse Cafe and settle in the vast wooded area with an awesome book, though maybe not do that while the Headless Horseman is there.

The magic was so fun to read about, and just the mystery of it all was compelling and made me want to keep reading. (I mean, duh, I literally kept reading until there was nothing left to read)

Lastly, we must, but we must talk about the romance/sexy tension surrounding Drusilla and Ichabod. First, Drusilla is written as a bisexual introvert, who has trouble connecting to people. She's great at her job, and passionate about it, which is very apparent. She has a strained relationship with her twin sister and has trouble speaking up for herself sometimes (mainly because as one of very few Black people in town and even fewer Black woman, she has to hold herself back from speaking her mind the majority of the time). It was interesting to watch her grapple with her need to solve this case, which is incredibly personal for her, especially after her sister goes missing, while learning how to put herself first for once.

Now, Ichabod, my man, aka: my dream-boat. Ichabod is demisexual, and as I read, I tried to remember another book I've read that had a demisexual character. For the uninitiated, demisexual simply means a person who must have an emotional connection with someone before they can sleep with them. I couldn't think of one. To be perfectly clear, I mean to say that I couldn't think of any other book I have read in which a character is explicitly stated to be demi sexual. I've read plenty where a character can be interpreted as such. But Ichabod states more than once that he is demisexual, which was incredibly refreshing. As someone who resonates with that label, it was cool to see a character, especially a male lead, proudly claim this label unapologetically. Ichabod has his own issues, though. He's doesn't work that well with others, at least from what I gathered, and tends to keep people at a distance, mostly because his job is so top secret.

Also, sidenote, but when I tell you I could not stop picturing Dante Brasco as Ichabod, ya'll...I could not. Just saying.

The pacing of the romance between Drusilla and Ichabod was realistic, it was interesting, there was tension, there was history! Every time they interacted, I was swooning, like what is my life right now?!

Bro, I was shipping them so hard that by the time we got to the love scene, I was literally like this:

I don't wanna give any spoilers because you just have got to read this book. If you like retellings with a diverse cast of characters, magic, sexy times, romance and general bad-assery both in the morgue and out in the woods, this book is absolutely a great choice for a cozy, exciting read.

You can find Splinter on Amazon, Kobo, Apple Books and Barnes and Nobles, and be sure to leave Gigi a review, it helps push their book out to more readers and I'm just betting that it'll put a smile on their face.

Sinceriously,

Hero