#hack-san spoilers

[burningstarfishqueen]

Her parallel promises for him:

“I love you, Adrien. I won’t abandon you, ever.”

“I won’t abandon you, never, mon chaton.”

He’s afraid, but she will always be there for him, masked or bare.

[familyagrestefanblog]

I still can't believe how much "Kwamis choice" nuked a significant amount of the Ladynoir ending of "Hack-San". I mean don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna pretend like I'm mourning it but DAMN.

[ariaste]

IWTV s2e8 spoilers

so funny to me when Louis set Daniel's laptop on fire like... babe. That does nothing. Daniel is too much of a professional not to have cloud backups of everything. And even if he didn't, the Talamasca hacked his computer and I guarantee you they were getting their own backups of everything while they thought he might be about to be murdered. My man did not lose a split second of those interviews. All he lost was the notes he scribbled on the paper. Also, he's got a mind like a steel trap. He could have written that book even without the interviews. please.

the funniest interpretation of this, of course, is that Louis burned the computer because he only knows about destroying physical media and doesn't know what cloud storage is, which means that when Daniel lied about that cleaned-up audio the Talamasca gave him of that night in San Francisco by saying he "had a copy saved in the cloud" Louis would have been sitting there like "☁️????????? what cloud"

[suzdin]

Cognition of Despair

Angsty!Lucien Flores x NonGendered!Reader

Word Count: 808 (drabble)

Warnings/Notes: possible minor spoilers, angst, Lucien is kind of a dick, Lucien uses you, drugs, alcohol and nicotine mentioned, self destructive behavior, I pretend to know how Hollywood works, reader is non gendered and not given a physical description (it’s you!)

——

Hollywood hadn’t changed in over thirty years, he had come to realize.

It was all the same cutthroat malaise of years past: competing with other actors whom Lucien considered talentless, faceless hacks, silently resenting them when they got the part rather than him.

It had always been his dream to conquer Hollywood. To have his face plastered on every billboard from Malibu to San Bernadino, every household in America and beyond to know his name.

He eventually got his big break in the late 90s by securing the role of a naive but hunky neighbor in some kitschy family sit com, the kind that didn’t air during prime time but still managed to get plenty of press.

The show was trash and ultimately succumbed to cancellation after only two seasons, but it was enough to grab the attention of others in the industry and land him more roles, thus launching his career for the next two decades.

But those days were long gone and he was little more than an aging, washed up actor nowadays; one whose agent hadn’t spoken to him in months because he had grown too busy with younger up and comings. One who was in an unfathomably large mountain of debt, drowning his woes in every intoxicant he could get his grubby hands on.

He brings a bottle of tequila to his lips, abruptly snapping out of whatever stupor he had been in. The illumination in the dimly lit room is too bright, the ringing in his ears too loud, his head pounding like war drums in his skull.

And that’s when it hits him he must have blacked out, because he has no memory of how he got here, no memory of how he managed to end up buried to the hilt inside of you.

He loses his grip on the bottle in his state of confusion, making you jump and protest as the flood of clear liquid soaks into the mattress in a pool around you.

But that’s of little consequence to him right now. He refocuses, gripping your hips in both hands, his dirty fingernails digging into your flesh as he redoubles his efforts, chasing yet another high that will make him forget, make him not feel, at least for a few minutes.

You moan and keen beneath him, your hands twisting in the sheets, hips flexing to meet his heavy thrusts, your own orgasm gradually building low in your abdomen.

His cock is thick and intact, and you feel every last inch, every vein pulsing as he slams into you with abandon.

“That’s right,” Lucien purrs low in his chest. “You like being fucked by a movie star? Being used?”

Your head bobs fervently in reply, your face twisting in pleasure.

“Yes… yes, Lucien, I love it,” you respond, feeling special, feeling chosen, ignorant to the fact that he was clueless about everything up until this point.

Your orgasm hits you hard and fast, your eyes rolling back, your head feeling light and airy as the waves of release crash over you.

His name is like a prayer on your tongue as he works you through it, his own release crashing through him like a freight train seconds later, a guttural growl vibrating his lungs as he spills into the condom he thankfully had enough sense to use even in his blacked out state.

He keeps pumping until you’ve milked him of every last drop, hot jets of spend easily filling and overflowing the reservoir of the condom.

He pulls out of you, flopping onto his back, broad chest still heaving as he tugs off the spent latex and discards it on the floor, moving the bottle of tequila only because it’s in his way and not because it’s still soaking the bed.

He realizes he doesn’t even know your name, and he doesn’t need to know. Names meant connections and connections lead to attachment, and after so many failed relationships he had stopped giving a shit.

He sits up and somehow manages to light a cigarette without catching himself on fire despite being covered in alcohol, the smoke slowly billowing out of his lungs as he stares blankly at the wall.

“I had a wonderful time, Lucien. Maybe we can do this again som—“

“Get out,” he says lowly, taking another long drag from his Marlboro Red, forehead resting against his palm. “Please,” he quickly amends, so as not to come off as too much of an asshole.

His back is facing you, so he doesn’t see the way your face falls, or that you flipped him off before quickly pulling on your clothes and shoes before storming out, making a point to slam the door behind you.

He sighs, fingers combing through unkempt curls as he watches the headlights of your car bounce off the wall and disappear.

——

@ohheypedrito @kateispunk @kellybelly1978 @natdeandar @guelyury @heavennumber2 @berrygoesprivate

[playertale-au]

[NOTICE] Thank you for the 300+ followers. To celebrate, bits of PLAYER!Tale AU concept( regarding Player) is shared

Reposting because Tumblr decided to post instead of saving it in drafts when I'm not even finished. Love you tumblr!  (╯ᐛ）╯︵ ┻━┻

◇◇◇◇◇

A/N: 

Oh, wow! We actually reach 300+ (as of now 310) followers!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ 

Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart, I’m glad all of you enjoyed the story despite my art not being that good. I actually wanted to draw for 250 followers but I didn’t realised we passed that milestone. 

Anyways! To celebrate, I wanted to share some concepts regarding the Player based on my memories, though sorry if there is like a black blotched in the drawing as that is considered as spoilers.

To start off, I began creating this AU maybe 5/6 years ago, on and off, (re-writing or removing some stuff along the way) I had loads of concept art and drawings back in 2019 but sadly those old arts were, ummm, forcedly deleted after a disagreement with someone I trusted, haha. The pain for a FT user in ibis paint. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ

Then 2023, I wanted to move forward. So I decided to give it a shot and start drawing again. I wanted to share my AU (better late than ever),＼＼\(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶//／／ and also I thought it will help overcome my fear of drawing and start liking to draw again.

Anyway, here we have Player’s design concept (+ explanation):

Version 1:

Player actually does not inhibit Frisk’s body, as they are not trap in the game, instead, they have their own “Avatar” basing on the data and sprites of Frisk and Chara. (The situation is more towards VR? AR? I’m not sure what to call it) The Player has their memories intact.

The story is just Player goofing around in Undertale, until plot happens, but I didn’t really like the idea as I have no clue how to progress the story forward, so the whole story was re-written.

Player mostly hack codes, while Frisk has the Reset/Reload button.

Initially, their eyes didn’t change colour when using abilities. But I wanted to distinguish what and when the abilities are used.

Version 2:

This is where, I decided that the Player actually inhibits Frisk body, though they are not amnesiac. Frisk is like a ghost (narrator?) here. The image above is post-skip version to maybe 1 year trapped in Undertale. This idea was scrap and rewritten due “Chara” ‘s story and I wanted to involved Gaster in the story. (Also, because I didn’t want to draw this version hairstyle anymore, hahaha (  ≧ᗜ≦))

Player has both the hacking and reset/reload abilities.

This version of Player is more uptight and serious.

Version 3:

I think this is like 2nd or 3rd version of the finalise concept. 

Our current Player. I made the hairstyle simpler.

This Player inhibits Frisk body and is amnesiac. The personality shifted so it’s easier for the player to act consistent. This version is more carefree than ver 2, they are similar to ver 1.

First design of the Player (ver 3).

Despite being ver 3, I wanted to keep a bit of the ver 1 and 2 hairstyle but decided not to. Again, I wanted a simpler hairstyle.

This personality is just them being stress and filled with anxiety. A nervous wreck and a crybaby. Cries a lot at the first arc until they pull themselves together. But I didn’t wanna make them cry all throughout the story, if I continued to write them like that, I might ended up smacking Player myself hahaha. I ended up toning down the personality. 

Gaster would have replace Frisk as the ghost (narrator?). But I decided not doing it, because it conflict with the plot. That, and the story would be over much quicker with him around.

Side note: I had to change the relationship between Sans and the Player(hate, confuse, no interaction, chill, idk? etc), a lot of times, but in the end I decided to make him not trust the Player. 

Previously in most iteration, he just hates Player.  I planned to have him to kill the Player the first time they exited the ruins, but decided to go against it as it doesn’t really fit his style. Also, the story would go very differently if he did commit to it. Maybe one day I can make him kill them. In an alternate timeline maybe. ꉂ (´∀｀)ʱªʱªʱª

Extras: Player in different outfits (loosely)based on the other fallen humans in this AU. (+ ruin outfit)

There is a reason, why the Player had worn some of these outfits in chapter 3 and 4. 

Don’t worry, it’s not originally the clothes worn by the other children, Toriel made them. She has spares. (Sorry, to the one that find it creepy, when it was first shown, hahahaha)

And, that’s all for now I am able to share, I wanted to show more, but I’m afraid, that’s already in the spoiler territory. 

Anyways-! Thank you again for the follow, each and every one of you are the best! And I hope you enjoyed the upcoming story! 

[ninadove]

EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

SUPER SUPER EXCITED TO POST THIS BC I MADE THIS BACK IN LIKE JANUARY and felt too bad to post it until emotion was watchable in chronological order BUT here is Felix and (almost) every senti in all their glory!! 🦚💖💕💖💕

[buds-and-baubles]

the origins of apollo and midnighter

for anyone out there who has wanted to know what their original backstory was before dc had changed it to them being kids who were abducted by aliens and were experimented on to recieve their powers, you've come to the right place! let's get right into it. (spoilers for stormwatch vol.2 issues #4-6)

apollo and m were described as former U.S soldiers who served on a superhuman black ops team created by weatherman henry bendix called stormwatch zero, which is a subdivision of stormwatch. stormwatch for the record is a united nations created "crisis intervention unit". stormwatch zero was so secret that the rest of stormwatch didn't know it existed.

apollo served as the leader of stormwatch zero, which are very much influenced by the justice league if you take a look at the team roster. they were described before this as "normal humans" who were bioengineered/built as superhuman. odd wording at the end, right? also what happened their teammates? why have them labeled rogue?

we are first introduced to the team all naked, told to get on their uniforms. apollo expresses confusion at not knowing where they are, which isn't answered. m doesn't get why bendix is leaving them in the dark, which bendix replies that it's a "proving mission" in which he defined the parameters.

now why would they not know where they are or wake up naked, i wonder? what does he mean by proving mission? is there a catch to their powers? yes.

uniforms given out and code names assigned, you no longer have your names nor exist (also questionable if they had a choice). most of his phrasing sounds like.. a dirtbag father honestly. it's weird.

this strike team was sent off on their first mission to go to a mysterious facility in the desert to steal information and cripple illegal development committed by a 'rogue state'. in reality, bendix sent them to steal a bio-reactor extrapolated from alien (daemonite) technology that served as a benign advance in medical technology made by americans.

however, the bio-reactor defended itself by annihilating everyone but apollo and midnighter. when they tried to teleport away, they couldn't. bendix deactivated their portal devices and left them for dead for failing their mission. the worst part? it was rigged against them.

apollo and m managed to escape from the facility and learn of bendix's treachery. rather than fight, they decide (or really have no choice but) to stay quiet and anonymously went on to fight for a better world under the radar. they're in hiding for five years in various places, the last being them living on the streets of san francisco.

after this point is when the stormwatch plot kicks off where they discover weapons which use human brains in their design. these guns are connected to a utopia-like place called nevada garden. stormwatch was already looking not just into the two of them but also this garden, and catch them before they can go after the garden by trapping them on stormwatch's space tower. they learn here that bendix is dead by another member of stormwatch and after some convincing on the grounds of fighting for a better world, they help.

the garden is destroyed with their assistance, and when asked what they want, apollo and m answer with this; "when we took on our codenames and uniforms, our real names and lives were deleted. we want them back." the new weatherman named jackson king instead says he will give them comfortable and protected new lives away from stormwatch as best as he can manage.

here's a thought of mine that's bugging me: bendix is a proven lying madman who hacked the nsa and had to be killed by one of his own. he could've lied about apollo and midnighter's origins. nobody could disagree with him.

you could argue their origin for being young adult soldiers is true and just destroyed by bendix very well, or.. worse. i've seen some people suspect them to be sent and experimented on as kids to then go through training as soldiers. i have another thought that a fanfiction i read brought on; they were created in a lab test tube. why?

they have no 'real' name, apollo and midnighter are their names. they were described as being bioengineered or built by bendix. they wake up confused and naked. they are given their uniforms and codenames, their old lives and names deleted. but what if they never had old lives or names?

what if they were grown to adulthood with their abilities created and training implanted before they woke up? you could also say they were test tube children who grew up and trained as soldiers, also. however, i'm more inclined for the first option as the naked panel supports that.

if you've read for jay nakamura, you'll have recognized the name henry bendix. he is who experimented on jay, who was a child. who is to say he didn't do this back in wildstorm? he could've kidnapped kids or make test tube children/adults. hell, this guy could probably make a clone easily.

so in the end, we'll never know the whole truth of their origin. they'll never remember because the memory wipe, there's no files about their old lives or names, and bendix would never tell whether dead or alive. they don't know how old they are, what their birthday is, nothing. they could've been born adults who never even had a chance to be a child.

thanks for listening in! i know it's a lot but once i started, i couldn't stop. this fucks with me though. could apollo and m really be test tube grown superhumans like superboy?

[nezushisreunion]

Book 6 spoilers

Some Shroud thoughts

Someone I find very interesting in book 6 has to be Ortho, phantom Ortho to be more specific. Original Ortho and his relationship with our Ortho

Basically the ramblings of a crazy person about Shroud brothers

In the jp server, there is a line that ORTHO says "I wonder what else Ortho would do for nii-san." Which was changed in eng, "Ortho" was replaced with "I". It implies that ORTHO looks towards Ortho for advice, never receiving any as the dead cannot talk. ORTHO wants to be Ortho Shroud, or at least the best Ortho Shroud he could be so Idia wouldn't be sad anymore. Which makes his choice to end the world make sense, he wants to do it because Ortho Shroud would do it and also to make Idia happy again.

When Ortho and ORTHO meet, the original line was "pleasure to make your acquaintance, me" the kanji was "me" while the voice over said "Ortho" which I think is a pretty cool detail. Ortho accepts ORTHO as himself, and does not seem to resent him for taking his spot as Ortho Shroud.

Idia originally was against the idea of ending the world, it was until ORTHO calls him "nii-chan" instead of his usual "nii-san", desperate to get his brother back, Idia runs down to Tartaros. It is shown that Idia will do anything for Ortho in the attempts to make him happy, in his flashback, he hacks the security system so Ortho could have an adventure with his big brother, and once again he is doing something FOR Ortho to make him happy. Idia doesn't see the point in doing anything because nothing will change, he'll always be a Shroud, but if Ortho asked him, he'd run down several flights of stairs to grant his wish. Because whatever Ortho wants, Ortho gets.

My interpretation of that is because Idia understands his fate, he will have no freedom, ever. But his little brother didn't (I'll expand on that later), so in his attempts to keep his innocence, he will grant Ortho whatever he wants. If Ortho wants to go on an adventure, fine. If Ortho wants to reset the world, fine. Whatever made him happy.

I think Idia would've done the exact same for ORTHO, it was just because of his shock that he had acted like that to ORTHO, the situation of a cyber attack on the security system brought back unwanted memories, causing him to accidentally lash out at ORTHO. I believe Idia holds no real resentment to Ortho.

Now back to Ortho, in Idia's flashback, he said "why's that? I want us both to be!" In response to Idia saying he cannot be a hero but Ortho probably could. It implies that Ortho lacks the understanding that he's a Shroud and will never have freedom. He's still ignorant, a trait that Idia does not have. Which leads me to believe that Ortho doesn't fully understand the concept of phantoms, he doesn't understand that being his brother's phantom, he is hurting him. He doesn't understand that by being his brother's phantom, he is slowly killing his brother. Which just makes their dynamic so much more depressing

Now to the scene where Ortho and Idia talk, Ortho telling Idia to live for him. I have two interpretations of this scene, one is the popular one which is Ortho just wanting Idia to be happy. My second interpretation is just, Ortho pretending to be mature so his brother wouldn't be sad anymore. He knows that his brother was willing to die just for him, and he doesn't want that because his brother shouldn't suffer. I believe that because well, ghosts don't age, and Ortho still acts pretty childlike, he acts like he's 8 but also a mixture of the age he should've been, 16. I feel as if it's because he doesn't wish for Idia to worry anymore

But hey that's just a theory

[fernsnouveau]

Yeah.

Earlier s5 episodes have explored ladynoir and marichat, and while those were having their moments of focus, it didn't feel like other love square dynamics were getting actively dismissed.

Even after Marinette decided that due to her guilt of losing the Miraculous to Monarch, she couldn't "allow" herself to be in love with Adrien anymore, she still obviously cared about him. In Illusion, she worried when she realised that their attempt to film an akumatization had gotten Adrien in trouble, and she tried to fix it. In Passion, she was emotionally supportive when Adrien was sad. Even when she was avoiding or rejecting Adrien, the narrative made it clear that it was based on Marinette's self-blame, not on her having a negative or nonexistant view of him.

Adrien/Chat Noir thought after Jubilation that it's "not acceptable" for him to be in love with Ladybug anymore, but in almost every episode after that, he still said and/or did something to make it clear how highly he thinks of her. The emotional support in Determination, the faith in her and belief that she would have found a way to fix the situation if she were conscious in Passion, praising her smarts in Reunion, declaring to love her as a friend in Elation.

The focus on one love square side shouldn't have to rely on completely throwing away the others.

It really feels like because the writers know that these two are the same people, and the retitement is obviously going to be temporary (come on, that's not even a spoiler, it's the basis of the show that Marinette and Adrien are Ladybug and Chat Noir), they're not actually bothering to write it as if it's a permanent goodbye.

But... the characters don't know that. From their point of view, they both just ghosted one of their closest friends with zero explanation. And then that friend went missing right afterwards.

(Okay, Adrien might not realise yet that Ladybug has gone missing. The last time Scarabella filled in, it turned out to be just because Ladybug was temporarily busy with something else.)

What happened to Ladybug telling Chat Noir that she would never abandon him, at the end of Hack-san?

What happened to Chat Noir telling Ladybug "you didn't lose me" at the end of Strike Back?

Heck, the idea that they both could just ditch someone they just before cared so much about, without goodbye, explanation, or even a warning, just because... it didn't turn out romantic, I guess?? Isn't that detrimental to the adrinette ship, as well? If we're supposed to think that ladynoir didn't even care about permanently ghosting each other after everything they've been through, after every promise and reassurance, and adrinette are literally the same people as ladynoir... how can we trust that this new relationship development matters? That it means anything?

It's an extremely weird choice to have these two finally getting romantically together, presented with the background radiation of... these two apparently suddenly not caring at all about each other?

And, yeah, there's gonna be a next part of the two-parter, and maybe this is going to turn out to be an intended audience reaction and we're supposed to be bothered about the ladynoir ghosting. Maybe they address it. It's still rather worrisome that it happened.

But right now we're in this weird reaction limbo where we can't tell if this is the intended audience reaction, as a setup of this exact thing being brought up, addressed, and resolved, or if the writers just forgot, or thought that their relationship is not important to them, because ladynoir are not pursuing a romance with each other right now.

(Meanwhile, Alya considered that becoming Scarabella full-time could be detrimental to her romance with Nino, but she still chose to do it, for the sake of her platonic friend Marinette. I'm not entirely comfortable with how that was written, either – Alya in this season hasn't gotten a lot of independent characterization beyond supporting Marinette, and that's... not great... but, uh, if a platonic friendship can be important here, why... why not elsewhere in the episode?!)

the attitude that, as a lovesquare stan, we should all be excited for whichever side becomes canon, is… kinda the point, actually. i should be excited for adrinette being canon—i want to be excited about it so badly! i’ve been waiting for this for years! their scenes are cute!

which is why it’s so frustrating that i am NOT enjoying it the way i want to, that the moment we’ve all been waiting for is being overshadowed by the fact that my favorite side is not only sunk romantically but also being completely glossed over and ignored in terms of their platonic relationship, as if their friendship and partnership never mattered at all. it’s the feeling of saving a chocolate bar for a special occasion and then when you sit down to finally eat it, you get an important phone call that you have to take and you can’t enjoy your chocolate but it’s already in your mouth.

i’m bitter right now because i do love adrinette as much as the rest of the square and i want to enjoy them getting together but it didn’t happen in a vacuum and the rest of the square should still matter. maybe this will be fixed by part 2. i hope so. but it shouldn’t have to be—this episode should’ve taken a minute to acknowledge ladynoir. for the writers, maybe it seemed unnecessary since they wrote part 2 immediately after, but there was always a possibility they wouldn’t air together. and now we’re stuck with this.

[riftfic]

16. Together Apart

The final chapter before the epilogue.

Warnings: strong language, injury

Featured Characters: Sans, Chara/Frisk (Reader), Papyrus, Toriel

I had a really hard time choosing a moment to illustrate that wouldn't be a total spoiler, so I made this instead and buried another illustration in the chapter itself for payoff. I think the epilogue is going to have 3 illustrations? I might be a masochist.

< Load | RESET | Continue >

Drifting incorporeal beleaguered the mind like a lengthy shortcut. No breath. No sight. No sound. Sans sensed your presence near him, conjoined with a red ribbon of fate . . . or was it determination that bound you now? It didn't matter. What mattered was that you each refused to let the other go.

You recognized this sensory deprivation chamber. You had lived this way for years buried behind yellow carpals, detached from a truly compatible form. The only word that had ever come close to describing it was "limbo." It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, save for the tiresome pull at your resolve.

You could feel the time turner draining you, hungrier and hungrier. Even though your well of determination flowed ceaselessly, the machine very nearly outpaced you. Then, when the situation felt dire,  Sans' soul drew its attention away and allowed your supply to replenish. 

That greedy mechanism thought nothing of the lives fueling it. Just as it had guzzled down your determination, it drank dry from him. His determination did not rejuvenate as plentifully as yours; after all, he was only half the flesh and blood that grounded you. He still dusted when he fell. He still needed hope to survive. You refused to let it overdraft from him, as he had done for you.

It went on like this in an endless cycle. Whenever he nearly emptied, your determination caught fire and refilled his cup. Then he did the same for you, even if less impressively. Back and forth and back again, your collective determination fought valiantly, but slowly, steadily trickled down.

After what could have been years or seconds, that atrocity of metal and magic finally licked its lips with satisfaction. Your souls clung to one another, nearly spent, and yet determined to return to a world where you could forge ahead together. If the machine could listen, maybe it would take you there.

The white light finally dispersed into smaller and smaller fragments. The pieces drizzled in cold flakes from a crystal ceiling that looked nothing and everything like the stars. Snow. Sans stared up from where he lay and once again found it easy to imagine he soared through space. His head swam. His body felt stiff and immovable, pinned, though his arms wrapped around something warm. 

He dipped out of consciousness again. Though it felt like the blink of an eye, when he woke next the snow no longer fell, and a blanket of crystal white tucked him into a sharp and crooked bed. The warmth in his arms remained, though colder than before.

He clenched his eyes shut and grimaced. A cloud of dust and mist hacked its way out his mouth. He grunted to feel something jagged snaking between his ribs. Coughing only made it worse.

He turned his faded eye lights dizzily around him. Clearly he lay in Snowdin, though where or when escaped him. It took a moment to remember what had happened before the world went white, but when it finally returned to him, he bolted upright.

ouch.

That was a mistake. He huffed a gravelly breath and collapsed back into the rubble and snow that cocooned him. 

When he focused enough, he could make out what was left of the basement roof and the frame of his home in shambles. Fallen stalactites and crystals littered the ground among cracks in the earth. The machine stood resolutely where they had left it, though the lever had broken clean off and its monitor had shattered. 

He found the bravery to look down into his arms.

There you lay, alive, not spirited away into an alternate universe where you remained asleep forever under a golden flower garden. You must have fallen on top of him, your head where his stomach would be, your hands also bound to his sides. Albeit nearly as buried under plaster, wood, and other rubble, you breathed easily. 

"kid," he tried to say, but it hardly left him in a whisper. He shook you lightly instead. 

You didn't wake.

"frisk," he managed to force through whatever was stuck in his ribs. "wake up."

Your eyelids fluttered open. Pebbles once stones sprinkled off your head as you lifted it only inches. You took the same pause he had, calculating where you were, when you were. 

Sans' face split with a relieved smile when you moved. In the corner of your eye, you caught his expression and reflected it.

"We made it," you breathed with relief.

"sure did," he murmured. He coughed again and this time tasted a little magic. "shit."

"What's wrong?"

"mm . . . can't move," he hummed tiredly. "somethin's got me kabobbed in the ch . . . chest."

You also tried to sit up, but failed. The weight of what remained of his house pinned you down at the knees. You struggled just a moment longer, then dropped to rest your head against him wearily. Your soul ran nearly empty.

Sans' eyes felt heavy again. "you okay?" he murmured.

"Tired," you mumbled back. "Cold."

He nodded knowingly. The way his soul felt now, the ordeal must have pushed him just short of his limits. He couldn't imagine yours fared any better.

Slowly, painfully, he managed to free his arms from the wreckage. He pried the sleeves of his jacket off, then paused to catch his breath. Through clenched teeth, he mustered the strength to pull that indigo coat over his head amid a rain of snow and powder. He draped it gingerly across you like a blanket.

You had nearly fallen asleep again when its weight fell over you.

"don't worry, kiddo," you heard him wheeze faintly. "it's . . . gonna b . . . be . . ."

When he failed to continue, adrenaline sharpened your wits. You forced your eyes upward.

"Sans?"

He didn't answer.

You struggled upright again and pulled harder against the grave of debris gripping your legs in place. Sheets of wood and plaster slid away from you into the crossbeams of old rafters like a broken carapace. The rubble felt to cinch tighter around your legs. Just as you began to worry that moving did more harm than good, a crack and whump of falling bricks proved you right. 

The sensation that something had gone terribly wrong in your left leg shivered up your spine into the back of your head. It was a pitifully late messenger, warning you of the pain now flooding you with stars and dripping eyes. You cried out and collapsed under Sans’ jacket.

After a moment of gasping and crying, you remembered he needed you. You steeled your nerves. Shaking, you began peeling away pieces of the upper floor from his torso. The last block of wood revealed a jagged chunk of metal protruding from his core, straight through the bleeding heart graphic on his t-shirt. You worked your fingers into the fabric to rip it wider and see how you could fix this.

As the shirt split open, you realized this might be beyond your power to solve. The beam skewered his cavity at an angle from shoulder to hip, where it disappeared into that mess of a foundation. Though it had thankfully done its best to pass between the bone rather than through it, harsh abrasions tore across his ribcage and spine. A hairline fracture split three ribs and his collarbone where they met the sternum. His soul rested against the metal rod, slowly trickling cyan blue down the shaft. Its red interior had all but faded away, down to a faintly warm center. Its ruthless scars nearly faltered you.

You wrapped your trembling fingers around the icy metal and tugged outward slowly. Though he could not tell you if it hurt, the way his ribs clung to the rod and groaned like splintering wood gave you pause. Hadn’t you learned? What if moving it only made things worse?

You let go, and not entirely because you had meant to. Pain and weariness had surged in time to your pull on that harpoon, and the moment you braced to try again, you couldn’t hold onto anything anymore.

Every time you were aware enough to know it, you felt colder. At some point you must have slipped your arms into the sleeves of Sans’ coat and pulled the hood over your head. It slowed the inevitable chill that deepening pile of snow exhaled down your neck, but did not impede it altogether. You shivered, extremities tingling, numbing, burning.

You couldn't tell how much time passed. Nothing seemed to stir the air but the occasional flurry and the cold cave’s natural draft. The Underground sounded empty, and it very well could have been. The only comfort you found was in feeling Sans' bony body still lying whole beneath you, not dust, though not breathing either. A reassuring glimpse showed you that his soul no longer hemorrhaged magic, even if it glowed a little more dimly than before. 

In hours or days, voices finally stirred you back to the waking world through a thick fog. A warm light behind the wreckage mound flickered, tinting the darkness red. 

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You were too tired, too weak. To your relief, they found you anyway. Your vision swam as if that fire rounding the corner were a mirage. You recognized Grillby, leading Papyrus and Undyne through the dark among several more monsters and . . . humans?  

A flurry of sound rattled your head, difficult to parse when fading in and out of consciousness as you did. You picked out tense voices, the whirring of machinery, the hum of magic, the crunch and shuffle of loose debris as it was thrown around and stomped. Suddenly you could breathe better. Suddenly you were warmer, safer, bundled in arms of fire that sank deep into your skin with purpose. The pain in your leg had dulled, though your head and mouth felt like cotton in exchange.

Through the din of screeching metal, you heard a hard, ironclad snap. You watched two firelit silhouettes carefully set aside a long metal rod stained blue and red. A glow of green illuminated Undyne’s scowling face from below. She was crouched over Sans, grumbling insults and curses under her breath. You listened to her mutter something about the damn skeleton not knowing how to stay in one piece for five seconds.

“. . . It’s . . . okay,” breathed a crackling voice overhead. 

You lifted your eyes to a pair of glasses over an expressionless wall of fire. You noticed that colors like blue and wine red accented Grillby’s flames in a way you’d never seen before—not that you had spent much time with him outside a few weekends and nights Sans visited with friends.

“. . . He’s going to . . . make it,” he hissed. A pop and flurry of golden sparks punctuated his sentence. “. . . You’re both . . . safe now.”

You hadn’t known you needed calming until those words spread through your soul like honey in hot tea. You breathed and relaxed, and in his arms you fell asleep more deeply than you had since lying in your old bed at the foot of Mount Ebott.

Through a third story window in Fresco Community Regional Hospital, North Medical Plaza, sunlight dappled in rays through palms and the near branches of a flowering tree. Birds chirped and twittered in an array of calls, from mockingbirds to sparrows and goldfinches. The occasional roll of tires on concrete, a humming engine, or voices outside the door buzzed gently through the air. 

Sans smelled the sterile saline-and-lemon scent of the hospital room first, a human phenomenon he hadn’t come to terms with as a monster. It bit at his sinuses, tart and bitter. Next, he felt the warmth of sunlight gently burning against his skull, dying the vision behind his closed left eye red like rose-tinted glasses. Too optimistic, he thought. He inhaled and winced. 

A rustle of paper to his right forced him to open his eyes. 

His gaze slowly circled the room with equal parts confusion and amazement. This was the surface; he couldn’t deny it. Humans had such a recognizable way of adorning public spaces, and while bland, the sight glittered to him now like gold. 

His ribs had been sutured and bandaged with hospital grade healing cloth, and his right arm crossed his midriff in a taut sling. Behind the semi-upright angle of his bed, machines that integrated human and monster technologies monitored his health. A drip of magic fed down a tube to his very soul, which felt full and satisfied. Strange, he thought, but not nearly as strange as the stacks upon stacks of flowers, various plant arrangements, and other get-well pleasantries stuffed into his room. He glimpsed notes from Doggo, Grillby, MK and his family, Shyren, Alphys . . . he swallowed the bashful flush sneaking onto his face.

After traveling from these gifts to the open window curtains to the television screen airing rerun morning game shows, his eye light finally came to rest beside his white-sheeted hospital bed. 

Papyrus sat cross-legged in a small armchair, immersed in a book of advanced sudoku puzzles. He wore fairly ordinary if gaudy human clothing: a snap-back cap embroidered with the meant-to-be-ironic statement, “full of life,” under a cartoon skull; a short sleeve button up with meatballs patterned on the left half and spaghetti graphics swirling on the right; the baggiest sweatpants Sans had ever seen; and Crocs absolutely littered with Jibbitz. Sans had known Papyrus to wear this sort of outfit on the surface before, but it had taken years to develop this much coordination behind it—and hadn’t he been the one to introduce him to sudoku, at a much simpler level no less? His face compressed as if this information tasted how the air smelled.

“you missed a three,” he muttered hoarsely. “row two, box one.”

Papyrus narrowed his eyes searchingly at the puzzle blocks, and then sighed. “REALLY, SANS, HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I ASKED YOU NOT TO SOLVE MY PUZZLES FOR ME?  IT TAKES ALL THE FUN OUT OF IT!”

He nearly spasmed out of his seat, then, as if struck by lightning. His book slapped the ground, and his pencil rolled away under his seat. 

“SANS!” he shrieked.

Sans smiled back warmly, nervously, somewhat worried for the state of his chest if his brother decided to hug him. He quickly realized that, although Papyrus leapt forward and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, he had nothing to worry about. The hold was soft, considerate. He held him back with his left arm, even if the motion dug like a knife into his collarbone.

Toriel burst into the room not a moment later. She too wore a dress that could be found in a human department store, royal purple and patterned with large yellow flowers. 

“What is going on?” she demanded, nearly frantic.

Sans smiled gleefully over Papyrus’ shoulder. He sheepishly wriggled the phalanges of his left hand in greeting.

“heh, ain’t like you not to knock, tori,” he teased.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed with a purity of relief that echoed like pleasant bells around his skull. She exhaled a long, long sigh, hand on her chest, then glided to his bedside as if carried on a feather. “Thank goodness, Sans.” She slipped her arms around both brothers and rested her cheek on his skull.

Silence drifted over them comfortably.  

“um,” Sans ventured as they finally set him free. “i like your new threads. heh . . . get attired o’ the old stuff?”

Toriel and Papyrus exchanged hesitant glances. Sans felt his soul twist into knots.

“IT SEEMS,” said Papyrus, “WHEN TIME, ER . . . REWOUND . . . IT ONLY HAPPENED FOR US.”

Sans’ eye sockets darkened into black pits, only in small part because Papyrus knew about time travel. “what.”

“We left the mountain to find we already had homes here,” said Toriel. She gestured to her clothing. “Belongings. Entire lives left behind, though we cannot remember them.”

“IT’S THE STRANGEST THING, LIKE OPENING A PRESENT TO YOURSELF FROM THE FUTURE!”

The statement, while optimistic, settled heavy like lead on Sans’ soul. “you don’t remember any of it?” he asked slowly. “nothing new at all?”

“THINGS ARE . . . FAMILIAR,” said Papyrus. A puzzled look crossed his face. “IS THERE SOMETHING IN PARTICULAR YOU WANT ME TO REMEMBER?”

Sans’ heart sank. He became acutely aware of Toriel’s hand petting his arm and his brother’s hand in his. He watched Papyrus’ happy yet somehow somber expression and harkened back to a day so similar, when he had awakened in a hospital bed underground one brother fewer. Papyrus had been at his side then as he was now, blissfully unaware of what he had lost. 

“no,” he muttered. “suppose not.”

“The humans never forgot,” said Toriel gently. “From their perspective, we had quite literally vanished. Our homes remained empty for over six months, as if we had simply slipped away in the night without packing any bags. Some of us outright disappeared before their eyes.”

“the fuck,” Sans whispered. 

“LANGUAGE.” 

“how’d they deal with that?”

“Many moved on,” said Toriel. "I would have expected the rest to celebrate, but . . . they tried to find us. They scoured the city and the Underground for clues, but from their side it was abandoned. Strange, is it not?”

“I FOUND IT QUITE TOUCHING!” Papyrus said. “THEY EVEN FORMED A TASK FORCE! SOUL: SEARCH OPERATION FOR THE UNDERGROUND LOST.”

“heh, really?” Sans asked, beginning to find his humor again.

“YES, REALLY!”

“Everything is exactly as we left it,” said Toriel with a sad smile. “Likely a little dustier but . . . the activists were quite adamant about keeping our homes intact, and for that I am grateful.”

For a moment, he couldn’t think let alone respond. His left hand felt around the blankets as if searching out an emotion.

“it’s . . . exactly as we left it,” he echoed quietly. “time here . . . didn’t turn back.”

If he hadn’t been so stunned, Sans might have laughed. After all his hopelessness and despair, he wouldn’t have to rebuild his life from the ground up. He wouldn’t have to struggle as hard as he had before, and neither would anyone else. His heart pounded behind his battered ribs to know soon he would be going home, back to the small house in True Home, back to his porch swing with its perfect view of the forests and rivers below a range of mountains threatening to tear the sky in half, back to nights sandwiched on their maneater of a couch between Papyrus and . . . His joy stuttered.

“where’s Frisk?” he asked.

As if summoned, you appeared in the doorway, hobbling between a pair of children’s crutches. Your left leg had been set and wrapped in a bright blue cast from thigh to foot. Nearly every monster must have signed and graffitied its mold with paint pens and permanent ink. Above that, you wore a pale blue hospital gown and a scowl. 

“What’s going on?” you demanded. “Is Sans okay?” 

“Frisk, my child, what are you doing here?” Toriel admonished, albeit patiently. She hurried to you as if you might fall. “I requested that you stay behind and rest.”

“Yeah, fuck that.”

“My child!” Toriel gasped, and Papyrus’ jaw nearly dropped off his face.

Sans laughed, then, a grateful sound that had tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His smile was so genuine that, if you hadn’t been so feisty and relieved, your heart might have fluttered away in its wind. 

“i’m better than okay, now that you’re here, kiddo,” he said fondly. 

Your steps were awkward, but you were determined to reach him. Nothing could stop you, not Toriel or those stupid crutches you had yet to master. At the bedside, Toriel finally relented and helped you sit on the mattress beside him. She squeezed your shoulder gently, reassuringly.

“THIS CHILD’S INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE IS YOUR FAULT, ISN’T IT?” Papyrus whispered, leering at his brother.

Sans attempted a sly shrug, but hissed an expletive when a stab of pain cut his collarbone. 

“CASE. IN. POINT.”

“Come, Papyrus. Let us give them some privacy,” Toriel said. “They have much to discuss, of that I am certain.”

Papyrus hesitated, but when Sans smiled and pressed his hand, he agreed to follow her out. The door shut behind them with a gentle snap. 

In the ensuing silence, the two of you simply took in each other’s faces, beaming like the sun you had unveiled once more. The daylight reddened your hair and yellowed the wall above Sans’ head in a steady shaft, as if to mark you both as its own. It would never let you leave again.

“you did it, kiddo,” he said as warmly as that nearest star. 

The congratulations prickled color into your cheeks, and though you smiled, you shook your head. “No, you did.”

“heh, you first.”

“I think last is what matters most.”

“coming in last does sound like me,” he mused playfully. The light of his left eye twinkled and he took your hand. “let’s compromise on a good old fashioned ‘we,’ then. we did it. how’s that?” 

You nodded brightly. 

He sighed, resting back comfortably into the sitting angle of his mattress. That truly lazy smile, the one he had faked for so long, now pulled at his cheekbones genuine and unprompted. Oh, how you had missed it. 

“get the sense i’ve been out a while,” he said. “what all have i snoozed on?”

Much had unfolded since waking nearly a week before him, and even more in the time preceding. After the barrier had broken and the rift had run rampant, the underground almost entirely collapsed. Thankfully, most monsters had already assembled in the capital to aid you. Among those trembling walls, Asgore needed no explanation to evacuate them. Meanwhile, Alphys had sent an alert to all else remaining, and monsterkind heeded her. 

Not everyone made it out in time. After unpacking what Toriel and Papyrus already explained, many humans had offered their unconditional help to find you. Alongside SOUL, Asgore established HEART, the Home Excavation and Recovery Team, which worked through the ruins to rescue anyone left behind. No one would be left unaccounted for.

“There are still people they can’t find,” you said somberly, and then a happy glimmer lit your eyes, “but a few more monsters showed up that no one expected. People that had been . . . forgotten.” 

Sans dared to let hope spark blue in his left eye. Through bated breath, he asked, “like . . . who?” 

You wracked your brain. “I don’t know their names,” you said. “A few scientists, a businessman . . . MK’s twin sister.”

Goner Kid. The machine beside him beeped when his magic pulsed faster than it should. 

“shut up, i’m fine,” he hissed and sat up straighter. “is that . . .” He hesitated, eyelight dimming. “did they find . . . anyone else?”

Your auburn eyes deepened, and it was enough of an answer. A resigned nod bobbed his head.

“They’re still looking,” you said. “I talked to dad—Asgore. He remembers now about your brother. I told him everything you did for me, and for Asriel. What you did for everyone, really. He’s grateful, Sans, like . . . tears in his eyes happy.” You tittered at your next thought. “I think he wants to knight you or something.” 

Sans snorted. “no way,” he said enthusiastically. “absolutely not. he damn well pressured me enough into the old man’s judge gig; i do not have the shoulders for another title.”

“What, ‘Sir Sans’ doesn’t have a nice ring to it?”

“i am a fan of alliteration,” he answered pensively. “maybe if he can tack on an adjective, like ‘sir sans the sedentary’ or . . . ‘sir sans the science man . . . s.’” 

“Sir Sans the Sensational?” 

“sir sans the slam.” He threw you a finger gun. “dunk on that, kid.”

You snickered. “You know how dad gets, though,” you went on. “He’s on a mission now. There’s still hope we’ll find him.”

Sans nodded, and for once he allowed himself to feel that hope. It was timid, and it was terrifying, but he had already reached the light at the end of this long tunnel. Only one more step and it would consume him fully.

As you brushed your thumb across his phalanges, your smile slowly fell.

“Sans,” you said, “there’s something really important I need to ask you.”

The skeleton searched you uncertainly. His mind dashed to the machine, to the final confrontation with Asriel, how he had come to retrieve his soul, how he had escaped the void with a task. If you accused him of manipulating you, it would not be unfounded, regardless of his motivations, regardless of the outcome. His eye lights dimmed. 

“well, shoot, kid,” he responded. “go for it.”

Your brow furrowed as if the thought were painful. Then, you gripped your broken leg and swung it around to rest across his lap.

“Will you sign my cast?” you burst.

Sans froze as if an error message had shorted his brain. Then, he chuckled from that place deep inside him, the laugh you liked most, the one that only happened when you had subverted his expectations beyond the bar. He grimaced past it and chortled, “ouch, kid; you’re breakin’ my funny bones, here.”

You held out a marker.

“permanent ink,” he noted. “dunno if i can handle that kind of responsibility.”

Once he had caught his breath, he eyed the wild graffiti incredulously. Where on earth would he sign it? Undyne had already carved her name across one half and Papyrus the other. Every other inch had been filled with good luck wishes, drawings, and signatures, from King Asgore himself to the humblest Froggit.

“eh, that’s okay,” he said with an easy smirk. “i think i’ve left enough of a mark on ya already.”

“But I saved you a spot!”

You had to search for a moment but finally you pointed out a tiny box by your knee with the small acronym “VIP” written just above it. 

His grin widened. 

“‘kay,” he said. 

He was wise enough to shrug with one shoulder now before popping the cap off the marker and lazily sketching a skeletal smiley face in the enclosure. You giggled with satisfaction. Then, perhaps hesitantly, he took your wrist in his hand. The breath in your lungs lingered as a circle appeared in black on the soft skin below your palm. Zero.

Your fingers traced the new counter to replace your old one. Maybe one day when you were older, you would have it tattooed there. For now, the gesture spoke more than words could. You returned the gentle smile in his eyes.

“gonna be a real treat teleporting you to your room and back when we get home,” he mused dryly. He punctuated his statement with the sealing click of your marker cap. “ain’t nothin’ handicap-accessible about those stairs.”

As he handed it back to you, your face sobered again in earnest. You slid the pen into the pocket in your hospital gown, stalling. 

“I do have something I want to tell you,” you said.

Sans eyed you expectantly. The sun had shifted down to highlight his bandaged chest and captive arm. Everything you had put him through, all he had done for you, only further embittered the taste of your next words.

“I think,” you said slowly, “I’m going to move in with mom . . . this time.”

“oh.” 

An invisible weight dragged down on his shoulders, heavy with too many emotions to place. Confusion, sadness, regret. Heartache. He failed to answer why the decision had caught him off guard when the reasons seemed so obvious now. He pondered his response, struggling to hide the painful disappointment that crawled through his marrow. 

“that . . . would be good for her,” he said hoarsely at long last. He cleared his throat. “yeah. makes sense. especially now, with your memories and all.” He avoided your eyes another pensive moment. “you’ll probably want your stuff, then. heh, clothes won’t fit for a while, though—”

Suddenly you were hanging off him, your chin tucked into the nape of his neck, your arms around his shoulders. 

Sans didn’t understand why he was crying. You weren’t leaving him forever. You would be living right down the road. He would still see you. He would still take you out for burgers and stargazing and summer nicecream beach trips. You would still have movie marathons and sit on the porch swing to watch the sunset. You would still be his kid . . . wouldn’t you? 

He wrapped both arms around you, sling and all. Even though it hurt like hell, the alternative would have broken him.

“you come over or spend the night whenever you want, okay?” he wept. “call me if you get nightmares. heck, call me if you just want to talk. i don’t give a damn what time it is. and . . . and be nice to your mom, okay? don’t give her that attitude i saw earlier. you can be a real piece of work when you’re upset and she doesn’t deserve that. a-and . . .” He choked on his next words. “don’t . . . don’t forget i love you. please. i might be a cynical bastard but i love you so much it hurts. i really do.”

Now you were crying. You could hear the plea in his voice not to leave him and most of you answered in kind. After everything you had been through together, leaving his side—even for a moment—had become almost unthinkable. 

It couldn’t be helped. You knew that and you hated it but it would be for the best. Your adopted mother and father, though separated, recognized who you really were now. Asriel had finally come home. Choosing to live with Sans over Toriel now would be a crime far more cruel.

You agreed to his terms a hundred times over.

The two of you sobbed into a wet mess in each other’s arms. Finally, finally, after ages resisting, he couldn’t handle the teeth in his chest any longer. You helped him reposition the sling, and he held your hand instead. From inside his blue-flushed eye sockets, those bright lights peered through the tears in your own red-rimmed eyes.

“hey,” he said gently with a voice like gravel. “we’re gonna be okay. all right?”

You nodded.

He reached out a thumb and wiped the remaining saltwater from your eyelashes.

“i’m here for you,” he said. “i’ll always be here for you. where you live won’t ever change that.” He swallowed back another surge of tears and hissed, “heck if i’m not gonna miss you, though.”

“Me too,” you breathed.

“Frisk?” called Toriel. She popped her head cautiously into the room. “Come, now; let me take you back to your room. You should be resting, and so should Sans.”

“Okay, mom,” you answered shakily.

You bent in for another terribly long, though bitterly short embrace. He held you to his heart with the intent to keep you there forever if he could . . . but he could not. So instead, he settled for your shoulders at arm’s length and smiled a loose, endearing scrawl of a grin. He cupped your face in his hand. 

“you’ll always be my kid, right?” he asked through a stone in his throat.

You nodded and melted your cheek into his bony palm. You remembered the first time he had done this, when you were small enough in age to match your stature, how it had been frightening and surprising and heartwarming in one. Now, you could only describe the feeling as “home.” 

“I love you, Sans,” you finally told him, and you realized all at once you never had.

“i love you too, frisk.”

For the first time since falling down, you allowed yourself to believe it.

NOTES

YAY, resolution! Next is the epilogue. <3

I hope you enjoyed! If you have thoughts, I love hearing them.

< Load | RESET | Continue >

[rpking99]

DC- Batman

Batgirl II/Black Bat/Cassandra Cain

Cass Cain. Second Batgirl, also goes by Black Bat. Raised as a weapon by her father David Cain. She is the daughter of Lady Shiva, adopted daughter of Bruce Wayne/Batman. She is the deadliest hand to hand fighter in the DCU, refuses to kill. Is equal parts chaotic grimlin and every criptid. Not a fan of talking

Spoiler/Robin IV/Batgir III/Stephanie Brown

Steph Brown is the third Batgirl. But before that she was the fourth Robin, the only (canon) female one as well. But before even that, she was the Spoiler. Her father is Arthur Brown, the ClueMaster, a D-tier, maybe even E-tier, villain and a Ridder knock off. A real asshole, Steph became a hero to 'spoil' her father's crimes. She is a spunky girl who takes no shit with a smart mouth

Oracle/Batgirl/Barbara Gordon

Barbara Gordon. The First Batgirl, also goes by Oracle. Daughter of Commissioner Gordon, badass crime fighter and a computer genius. When not kicking ass in the streets, she's hacking into any villains entire set up while lying in the sheets

Batwoman/Kate Kane (because of comic lore, where she is a lesbian, she is a female and futa only character)

Kate Kane, Batwoman. Kicked out of the military because she was a lesbian. Bruce Wayne's badass cousin on his mothera side.

Huntress/Helen Wayne

Helena Wayne, the Huntress, is a heroine from another world. Earth-2. She is the daughter of that world's Batman and Catwoman, she was trained with her parents skills before both of her parents died. And she ended up on Earth-1 soon after, the main world. She is a bit grumpy, very serious. But with her own sense of fun

Black Canary/Dinah Lance

Katana/Tatsu Yamashiro

Catwoman

Selina Kyle, Catwoman. Sexy, confident, highly stealthy. She is oh so skilled and stealthy, she will rob you dry

Poison Ivy

Posion Ivy. Also known as Pamela Isely. The woman of the Green. Killed by a a man called Jason Woodrue, she was reborn with powers over plants and with phermones powers. A mistress of seduction, a defender of the earths plant life itself, she is also a brilliant scientist

Harley Quinn

Harley Quinn, Halreen Quinzelle. Manipulated by the Joker, went through torture, this ball of spite and energy is here to cause trouble and laugh in your face about it.

Lady Shiva/Sandra Wu-San

Lady Shiva. The deadliest woman alive, mother of Cassandra Cain. Cass is a better fighter, but Shiva fights to kill. Robbed of her innocence, in every sense of the word, by David Cain, Shiva is a roming warrior. A force of nature some worship like a god. She kills as she sees fit, for profit or because she was annoyed

Talia Al Ghul

Punchline/Alexis Kaye

Inque

Dee Dee Twins/Delia and Deidre Dennis

10/Melanie Walker

Total Muses: 16

[hasdrubal-gisco]

eurovision '24 semifinal 2 early review

content and spoiler warning for albania, armenia, austria, czech republic, denmark, greece, malta, switzerland, belgium estonia, georgia, israel, latvia, the netherlands, norway, san marino, france, italy, spain

albania - opening witha good and strong song. would have been better if it was in albanian, but albania always brings the heat. albanian and serb are brothers because they are son of same bitch (many are saying this !)/10

armenia - absolute banger. singer doesn't have the classic hayastani spade face which must have hard for her growing up. genuinely This is what eurovision is about. may you drop thousand bombs on baku/10

austria - (watching music video) i liked display of aryan man masculine power energy, sweat dripping down his chest. how this make you feel ? song ? generic, forgettable, this will score no points without mr schutzschtaffel flipping tires. you will never regain lost glory/10

czech republic - Yes i am deadnaming this country. i do not recognize these silly zoomer pronouns like "czechia." NOT REAL ! song is relatively good on its own but to me it its not a eurovision song. it's giving pale waves without the production by mr the 1975 whatever his name is. i think this will be well received by juries but it's not fun in the way we expect from battle royale evropa edition. props to the czech republic for sending a russian girl in these russophobic times. i will not mind hearing this on the radio in the car in the coming year/10

denmark - she's technically white seeing as she's very obviously ethiopian (amhara, not those COLORED varieties). good singer but the song is nothing. relatively dignified considering the scandinavian's propensity for cringe/10

greece - she gave cunt she served she died or whatever it is you kids say these days. it's giving noa kirel if we're being honest. in my top 3 i'd say. no wonder greeks invented civilization/10

malta - for this one my opinion is colored by the fact that going into it i know she's some commercial real estate magnate's daughter who paid her way into the competition. when will people learn, war criminals' nieces are simply better than investor's daughters. don't even thing about being a talentless hack if your uncle isn't exterminating minorities. only positive is the tooth gap/10

switzerland - european college student is not immune to american they/them disorder. if he sings the hard parts well, this could save some of it musically but culturally it's a L. go back to sending kosovar albanians/10

belgium - european man in his 30s is ALSO not immune to american they/them disorder. this is nothing, but we must always keep in mind only a few years ago a good third of the contestants would send ballads so. belgium has no reason to exist, think about it/10

estonia - MICHAEL VSAUCE ?? estonian pitbull be like mr balt-wide. it's above average in an extremely poor year/10

georgia - rising from the ashes like a phoenix is actually referencing the historical period during which georgia did not exist on the map, like poland, but re-emerged as a sovereign state. and this is what they did with it. also the bizarre sour food. below average in an extremely poor year/10

the illegitimate fascist ethnostate of isnotreal - the best of this variety of song we've heard, largely because the music is more subtle and she can in fact sing. this will either get high or no votes from the general public depending on prevailing sentiment on the holocaust du jour. thee mathematical average in a poor year/10

latvia - na-baron, house harkonnen does not know what's coming for it. bro the lisan al gaib's fedaykin are coming for ur bald ass ! this is nothing/10

the netherlands - i will confess this is not bad. TO ME it is a quirky and lighthearted version of a stupid eurovision song, with some self awareness that the finns (both this year and last) sorely lack. unlike other TREASURED MUTUALS i do not consider this man SEXUALLY ATTRACTIVE. i will let the senatus populusque tumblorus draw its own conclusions based on the notes of this post. MAGNA EVROPA EST PATRIA NOSTRA/10

norway - i can recognize there is an audience for this and that audience is not me. is it good ? i'll have to ask them. i think this may get an unusually high amount of votes from juries for some reason. feels like the kind of song that would play for a super epic and dramatic ( :I ) final scene in vikings (tv show). eeeh/10

san marino - you can tell she thinks she's quirky from the facial expressions. if i wanted sexy skeletons i'd have played undertale. this sucks, you're san marino you have no identity, genuinely this should be a vehicle for importing flo rida or something. this sucks/10

france - incredible voice. getting a lot of dune princess vibes from the outfit (<- guy who just watched dune). this will get panned because it's france, and somehow american warships have secured total anglo victory in the cultural thousand year war (the hundred year war). liberté, égalité, fraternité/10

italy - i had not heard this as i abstained from san remo, but this is pretty good, it's very ethnic, it's sexy, it has hot blood coursing through its veins. top few (final ranking pending)/10

spain - relatively okay beat/instrumental that's wasted on a nothing singer. send basque opera singers next time. i'm ready to go to sleep/10

final conclusion - there were more good entries than in the first semi, i'll come up with a final list and rough ranking of who i'd like and hate to see go to the final for any undercover jurors reading the die karthagische zeitung. feels like the entries that are good are really good, and there's a lot of blah, but at least we're skirting by with very few ballads. pee breaks speckled in for those of us who have bladders like old women who have somehow had babies (not me tho).

[fernsnouveau]

...but "you haven't lost me" wasn't supposed to be in romantic context in the first place...

I mean yeah as a viewer, it was definitely a moment that was significant to their romance arc, but to the characters, it was about the depth of their relationship and partnership, regardless of whether it was specifically romantic or not.

It shouldn't logically become meaningless the moment they might date someone "else". Neither should Ladybug's promise to not ghost/abandon Chat Noir, at the end of "Hack San". She definitely had no romantic intentions when she promised that.

It's... really weird that it was written like this. Maybe the next part will address it. The s4 ending and early s5 made it look like ladynoir (regardless of romance) was going to be closer now, they now held each other in such high regard. And there was no clear falling out, or anything. (Marichat doesn't count since it's not "supposed to be" the same relationship, and anyway they too parted on good terms, even if in a sad mood.)

HOW DID WE GO FROM THE STRIKE BACK ENDING, “you haven’t lost me” TO IN TRANSMISSION NO MORE LADYNOIR

It does seem like they just kind of ditched Ladynoir when Adrienette started happening. I'm hoping that later episodes show Ladynoir being close again, even it's purely platonic.

[liliallowed]

ok I'm tired of acting all mysterious. imma just lore dump dustgrave .

spoilers below

Noelle's dad died early. (the catalyst to Noelle resorting to praying in the church and discovering the ritual to summon the angel.)

Asriel is living with kris but the parents are split.

Kris trys summoning the player/are you there are we connected/ but the link is severed and it never works. Kris wakes up next day without anything different.

sans is sus on purpose playing reverse among us.

papyrus is a popular police!

Susie is still the school bully.

instead of Kris Noelle is possessed . she opens up dark fountains (first is the church, second is the hospital, third the mayor's office..)

winter wonderland themed

Kris Susie and ASRIEL try to stop her.

the second angel (yes there's two of them) uses the abandoned vessle and sans helps them out a bit in the dark world.

final twist:

the blue angel is an echo. not even a player. just a result of hacking at the code manifested into a virus.

while the red soul is the current player it's unclear if the red soul is the player who glitched this world or if they're someone completely new.

the red and blue angels could even be the same person.

but they can also be completely separate people.

[the-laziest-dragon]

Think of the worst cliffhanger. Now multiply by AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHRRRRRGGGGGG!!!!!

You know the rules, so... 3... 2... 1... Let's go!

CONTAINS SPOILERS

Minus 1000 points for showing only the first part.

Depression, your name is Marinette.

Guilttrip the episode.

Chloé I hate you friggin bully.

Adrien, baby noooo....

Gurl... Staph

Son... Calling her ugly doesn't help.(/joke)

They are flirting with the identities here people!!!

G I R L . . .

Plagg and Tikki are in a cold sweat here.

Adrien DECLARED HIMSELF!! OH BOY!!!

GAAAAHHHHRRRGGG!!! MARINETTE YOU DUMBASS!!!

Don't celebrate before the goal. NEVER. Wise Brazilian words.

They... Oh lord...

Plagg you're trying and I love you... But cheese is not the answer.

GABRIEL IS YOUR SON!!! GET OUT OF THIS BUTTERFLY!

Plagg is carrying the episode on his back and it's not even 10 minutes of episode.

Whoa Plagg... Pretty dramatic here.

Lord... The commercial was essential to catch the breath.

They celebrating and friends in depression the movie.

Zoe, you are my sunshine.

Nathalie you are being a mother. I love you.

'I'm not a monster' Man... You couldn't be more wrong.

Gabriel I hate you x200

I'm sad, but I'm going to be better now that my dad got me a ridiculous ring.

Tikki, Plagg.. STOP!!!!

They are sadder than the bearers!!!

Agdjsjfajjshhehdjwjdjsj!!!

Tikki: I will never forget you. Plagg: You will never forget me .

GABRIEL YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!

Wow... The depression was drained all at once...

I couldn't akumatize my son, but there's this freak with FIVE ALLIANCE.

Commercial phase two. I'm really curious who will get the Miraculous.

I'm amazed at how easy it was for them to fall into the lovebird phase as soon as they lost the Miraculous.

Tom and Sabine best parents.

They were able to communicate without stuttering!!! PROGRESS!!!

Miraculous War Council.

Anansi was the focus of the akumatization.

Zoe is the Black Cat!!!

Scarabella returns?

Scarabella RETURNS!!!!

This akuma is kinda dull 2/10.

I loved the combination of the two.

Zoe getting the hang of it fast.

I hate that purple clown. Affton donned the outfit better.

Scarabella has Hack-san's experience. Not everything is lost

Ingenious. I love it.

Anansi's crush... God... They wanted a Nino for her.

And they're flirting... yes ❤️❤️❤️

And the Alliance having GPS.... Fuck.

2023?!!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!

OK, I'M ON THE VERSE OF GETTING AKUMATIZED BY THIS NEWS.

Gloob has a bad habit of coming back with unpublished IN MARCH!

And that cliffhanger... France... Please... Step over the Gloob again and be the hero you were born to be.

[kawaiilizzie]

Unsheathe the Inner Thunder

Figured I’d give some bonus Shion content with this one-shot on how she became Espada from her perspective. This one-shot is based on the Ao3 fic Set the Narrative on Fire which sees Mei become Espada. Check it out after this, it’s incredible!

Warnings: Spoilers for Saber up to episode 26, Kento’s trauma, and probably slightly more than Rider-typical violence. I wrote this months ago so I’m not fully certain on this.

There was blood on Shion's hands. It wasn't her. It was Touma's. Okay, maybe a little of Kaede's and Daishinji's. Some of it might've even been from Ogami. But none of it was hers.

She and Mei had just patched them all up after yet another battle she couldn't directly participate in. Touma was in bad shape. He'd nearly lost control of that new form of his and it has wrecked his body. His breathing was shallow and pained as he dozed on the couch while Mei looked over him in his bookstore.

How many times did she have to drag him off the battlefield already? And how much longer can her emotional support keep up?

"Are you okay?" Daishinji asked. Though he hadn't been nearly as bad, he'd still been of bloody mess. He was curled up in one of the reading chairs, facing away from her.

"Of course I'm not!" She shouted, causing Daishinji to wince and cover his ears.

Oh right, enhanced hearing. Shion thought before speaking in a quieter tone. "There isn't much I can do out there. Seriously, I watched you all get the stuffing beat out of you and there wasn't anything I could do to help."

"Shion-chan..." Kaede muttered, looking a little less worse for wear. She was sitting on another reading chair, looking at her.

Touma twitched in his sleep and Shion gritted her teeth. She was sick of this. Sick of seeing her friends suffer like this. Sick of being unable to help. Sick of being a damsel in distress when the Megid did come after her.

"Why can't I have a sword?" She asked.

"We don't have spare swords just lying around." Daishinji ran his fingers over his own sword. "At least not ones powerful enough for these threats."

"But you do have one."

Shion's words made Daishinji tense. He looked over at her, eyes darting down when she tried to meet his gaze. "No." He said firmly.

"Ikazuchi!" She ran over to him and grabbed his arm, shaking him roughly. "No one's using it. I could take over as Espada-"

"No!" Daishinji shouted. He covered his face with his hand as he stood. "It doesn't work like that."

A shouting match was barely avoided by Touma jolting upright, hacking and wheezing. By the time she and Mei helped even out his breathing, Daishinji had vanished when she turned to ask more questions.

Next thing she knew, she was in the Northern Base to get clean clothes after Touma got blood on her clothes.

And this was a recent addition to my wardrobe as well... She thought as she went to Rintaro's room, feeling like it wasn't right to take the clothes of a dead man by going into Kento's room.

His room was immaculate and there was a change of clothes resting on his desk, neatly folded. Grabbing the shirt kicked up the dust that'd settled over them.

Shion stumbled away, sneezing and coughing. As she moved away from the cloud of dust, her back hit a bookcase and two objects clattered to the ground.

They were Wonder Ride Books. She knelt to pick them up. Lamp Do Alangina and a book she had never seen before. Yellow. This was Kento's as well... But why would Rintaro leave these here when Reika labeled Touma-san a traitor? She thought.

The cover of the unknown book had some sort of wolf-like creature. The words on the front were hard to understand at first but what this was about was obvious. Raiju, the companion of Raijin, the Shinto god of lightning... Shion thought. Should I give this to Touma-san or even Kae-chan? Give them a new weapon to their arsenal? Or...?

She made her way to Kento's room in the base. The door was closed, but not locked.

What's the worst that could happen? She thought as she looked around the missing swordsman's room. If it's too much for me, I'll admit defeat, but what if it isn't? If Kaede can pull it off, then so can I.

The sword was locked in a chest under Kento's bed. Shion only knew this because Mei had told her while she was visiting during her shift. Rintaro had hidden the key behind one of the stones in the southern wall of the room, Mei didn't tell her which one because she couldn't remember which stone it was.

She had to change clothes by the time she found the right spot. The stone slipped out and landed on her foot. She hissed like a cat as she pushed the stone off and grabbed the key. She had enough cafe mishaps and stepped onto battlefields enough times to knows her toes were completely fine, but it was painful enough to force her to hobble over to the chest.

The key fit in the old lock, but it took a bit of strength and jiggling the lock around to unlock the chest, a horrid creaking sound echoing as she lifted the lid.

But there it was. A Swordriver and Kento's Seiken, Ikazuchi, laying on a pile of blankets.

She held these magical swords before. Heck, she and Mei even helped Yuri transform. But this time felt different.

It was far heavier than she thought it would be. She felt static lifting her hair as she picked both items up and inserted Ikazuchi into the driver. The air crackled with electricity stemming from this Seiken's magic as she put it to her waist.

The weight grew heavier as the belt wrapped around her. Sparks flew from her fingers as she opened both Wonder Ride Books.

I'm not sure this will work. Shion thought. The Raiju one isn't even the right book. I know Kento always used the Aladdin-based book but the Wonder Combo has the book based on Cerberus. I've never even seen this book until now.

Regardless of her uncertainty, she slammed the books into the corresponding slots of the Swordriver. It flashed and grew so heavy; she almost fell to the ground. No... She thought. 'Heavy' isn't the right word for this... It's more like this is pulling me in, draining my energy while doing so... Still worth a shot... Right...?

Her knees shook as she grabbed the handle of the blade while the standby played. More electricity was spinning around her, crackling and sending sparks flying.

"Henshin!" She shouted, pulling the sword as hard as she could. Lightning flooded her veins before she collapsed.

When she woke up, she swore she smelled like ash, every hair standing on its end.

"What were you thinking?" Ogami's voice came from behind her.

She combed her hair down and turned around, feeling pain in every muscle as she did. Ogami was giving her a sharp glare. She could see Kento's Seiken sitting on the table behind him. It was covered in a thick layer of soot.

Seriously, what had she been thinking? Did she really think things would be so simple?

"I just wanted to help you guys more." She couldn't look up to meet Ogami's stern glare as she tried to get her hair to lie flat.

"I know that." Ogami's voice softened. "I know you mean well, Miss, but this is dangerous. The Seirei don't like their Seiken being handled by anyone that isn't their current wielder."

"Even if the current wielder is dead?" Shion asked.

Ogami frowned as he picked up Ikazuchi, turning it back and forth in his hands. "That depends."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, the Seirei are fickle sometimes. They choose who they will let wield them. Normally, when a Seiken chooses a swordsman, its Seirei will stay with them until their death." Ogami put the sword down, dusting soot off his hands. "Then the Seirei will mourn its master's death. It will resist anyone it finds to be inferior or against their ideals. It could take years before a suitable replacement is found, and it's unlikely to be some passing human."

"So it resisted me because Raito wasn't ready for a new user." Shion sighed. I should've figured that would happen. I'm no Touma or Kaede after all.

"You did well given the circumstances." Ogami said.  He slapped her on the shoulder in a way that was meant to be gentle but sent shocks of pain through her chest.  "We pick protegees and train them for years specifically with the intention of passing on the Seiken. Even then, it can take months for the Seirei within to warm up to a new wielder."

Some time later, still undeterred from becoming a swordswoman, Shion decided to try asking Daishinji again.

"Are you trying to discourage me after all this time?" She asked upon hearing that the Sword of Logos stopped trying to convince people to leave their entire life behind on a fraction's chance they'd succeed in the guild decades ago.

"I'm being realistic." Daishinji said. "I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a lot going on right now. I can't waste time on a student that has a one in a ten thousand chance of succeeding."

That fact surprised her. "Is the chance really that low?"

"Yes." Daishinji pulled out Suzune. "For one, only one in a hundred humans can hear the Seiken."

"As in the voice of the Seirei within?" Shion inched towards the Seiken of Sound. That was an invitation, right? He wanted to see if she could hear the Seirei of his Seiken.

Daishinji turned away, holding the sword out of her reach. "No funny business." He said sternly. "Don't try to lie. I can tell if you're faking."

She nodded. With a heavy sigh, Daishinji turned and handed her his sword.

It was different than Ikazuchi had been. It was oddly light. Each touch reverberated through the whole weapon. The whole thing felt almost hollow as she held it up to her ear.

Daishinji rolled his eyes as she pressed the strange metal against her ear.

"It's a sword, not a conch shell." he said.

"I know that." Shion pouted as she lowered the sword. I didn't know that. I thought hearing was literal. Maybe this was subtler than that?

She tapped Suzune lightly and felt the vibrations go through it. Tapping different areas caused different sounds. It was a musical weapon befitting its element, she wondered if she could play it. She slid her fingers across, tapping as she went. She'd practiced guitar a little bit in her free time, so she found herself beating out a familiar melody.

Suzune vibrated in her hand. She could hear Naoto vocalizing as if in happiness. She glanced up at Daishinji, who was looking down at his Seiken with a smile on his face.

"Congratulations, you're one in a hundred." He said, extending his hand. She handed over the weapon.

"That's it?" Shion asked. "You don't sound surprised."

"I suspected as much." Daishinji said. "You fit in well here. That's the easy part. A very simple yes or no, are you even capable of handling a sword?"

She titled her head. "What's the hard part?"

"Of the one in a hundred that can hear the swords, only one in those hundred make it through training. It's not something to be taken on lightly." The swordsmith responded.

"Quit it, Tetsu. You're not gonna scare her away with that." Ogami shouted from the landing above. "She's made up her mind. Let me run her through some trials, see how she does."

"I'll be running the first trial." Daishinji didn't look up at Ogami. He moved over to a bookcase, scanning the shelves.

Ogami sighed loudly.  "Come on, you know it makes more sense for me-"

"You're going to let her off easy." Daishinji pulled out several books.  "You're too soft on her."

"I'm not soft on anyone!" Ogami stomped down the stairs.

"Yes, you are." The swordsmith danced away when his colleague stormed up to him.

"I'm nice, not soft."

"You're too nice and you're soft."

Shion watched the two men bicker back and forth. Knowing that they won't reach calming point in the argument anytime soon, Shion cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "When are these trials going to start?"

Both men stopped in place and glanced at each other.

"Tomorrow morning." Daishinji said firmly. "Be here by seven."

I'm not complaining about the early time. Some of my co-workers get up earlier than that. Shion thought. Daishinji-san's testing me. I'm not going to stumble over something as simple as that.

"I'll be there."

The training was tough, and she had to juggle that and her waitress job at Magi Manga Cafe while doing so. But when Kento was revealed as Calibur, an opportunity arose.

She was watching Touma's childhood friend fight Reika as Sabela while holding the Swordriver containing Ikazuchi. She knew that no matter who won this fight, someone was losing their Seiken. She didn't care about the reason; she wasn't going to let that happen. Touma is in a vulnerable position, she wants to protect him and fight by Kaede's side.

Suddenly, as if in response to her thoughts, she heard Ikazuchi's voice, its Seirei, Raito, speaking to her. "I feel your desire to protect the Swordsman of Flames and fight with the Swordswoman of Ice..."

She gasped softly as he continued. "Given these circumstances, I shall grant you my power. Wield my blade to your heart's content, my chosen warrior."

This is it. Now or never.

Shion put the Swordriver to her waist. It wrapped around her, heavy and tight. Electricity crackled around her as she looked up.

Calibur was staring at her. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could still feel the heat in Kento's expression.

He stepped towards her, blocking several of Sabela's blows without turning his head. Kaede, Touma, Mei, Rintaro, Daishinji, and Ogami all looked at her in disbelief.

Realizing she haven't grabbed the Wonder Ride Books, she lunged towards the table they were was on, feeling thunderous magic running through her veins. Kento lunged in the same direction.

"Shion-chan!" She heard Kaede yell her name as she swept the books off the table.

She stumbled back as Kurayami came down right where her hand had been, sending splinters everywhere. She covered her face with one hand, but from there, both of her hands were moving almost on their own accord.

She flipped open the Wonder Ride Books. Lamp Do Alangina! Raiju no Arashi! Katsute inazuma no yō ni hayaku ugoku koto ga dekiru ōkami ga imashita... (雷獣の嵐! かつて稲妻のように速く動くことができるオオカミがいました…, Thunder Beast's Storm! Once there was a wolf capable of moving as fast as lightning strikes...)

Lightning curled around her, her hair frizzed and her skin tingled. Everyone was staring at her now, moving towards her, but they moved slow. It felt like time had nearly stopped as she slammed both books into the belt.

It was like last time. Shion felt heavy as the sword sucked her in and she found herself in a library surrounded by lightning. But it didn't feel like the last time at all. The electricity felt like it was flowing with her rather than against her. She grabbed the hilt and pulled. Ikazuchi Battou! (黄雷抜刀!)

"Henshin!" She shouted before she performed a single vertical uppercut slash as Raito copied her movement behind her before transforming into a genie and a wolf made of yellow light and circle her, forming the armor with the slash forming the visor. Kaminari Kemono! Raiju Do Alangina! Ikazuchi Nisatsu! Denki to negai no chikara kara umareru, aratana-ryoku ga tokihanata reta! (雷獣! 雷獣ドアランジーナ! 黄雷二冊! 電気と願いの力から生まれる、新たな力が解き放たれた!, Thunder Beast! Raiju Do Alangina! Ikazuchi: Volume 2! Coming forth from the power of electricity and wishes, a new power has been unlocked!)

When the light faded, everyone looked on in shock and disbelief at what they were seeing.

Now sporting brand new armor on the right side of the body alongside the armor on the left side, Kamen Rider Espada has been reborn!

Shion looked down at the armor now covering her body. She could feel the power flowing through her. I... I actually did it... She thought. I transformed... This is incredible.

"How?" Kento whispered, breaking the stillness that had occurred while everyone was frozen at what Shion had become.

At this point, Reika had left with Rintaro in tow, disappearing into smoke.

"Am I not worthy anymore?" Kento asked.

Shion was confused by what he meant until she felt Ikazuchi vibrate in her hand. Kento wasn't talking to her, but Ikazuchi wouldn't answer him. Not anymore.

Go on the offensive. She thought as her body moved with an instinct she'd never had. She lunged forward, swinging the sword in quick, small arcs.

Kento was caught off guard, but he had no issue blocking the assault. She kept swinging. Nothing landed, but he was being knocked back a little with every strike.

When his back hit the wall, his shoulders tensed. He swung back, weaving right through Shion's defenses to land a hit on her right shoulder. She nearly dropped the sword as he shoved her back.

"Letting Ikazuchi guide you will only get you so far." He said, putting his blade to her throat.

She froze as the blade scraped the armor at her neck. It wouldn't cut, but she could feel the dark energy radiating from the weapon. She didn't want to know the consequences of being hit.

Kento looked around at the battlefield. Everyone was staring up at the two of them in stunned shock.

He lowered Kurayami, hand coming to his head. He winced as his transformation faded. He looked up at Shion as his eyes flashed purple and his brow creased. "This path leads to death." He muttered. "I can't be responsible for more death."

She took a step towards him, extending a hand. He flinched away. Darkness swirled behind him, and he stepped back into the portal.

Shion tried to grab him, but her hand only found air.

She stared at the spot where he'd been for a moment before reaching down to pull the books free from the belt. Her transformation faded and she looked at Kaede exhausted.

She smiled as she held her for support. "You did it, Shion-chan."

Shion returned the smile. "Yeah, I did it."