#relief doesn’t even begin to describe my current emotion

[fierceawakening]

So our social worker (as in, licensed clinician) met with the angry lady from Saturday, and beforehand was like “huh I don’t know why she wants to meet with me, she should meet with one of you guys first and I’ll come in if needed later”

…she just poked her head in, walked over to me, and quietly said “[Fierce,] you were right.”

[jdrizzle15]

Her Second Return

Just like all of you, and especially my fellow Penny fans, I am absolutely devastated by the Volume 8 finale. I had been in quite a state these last few days, utterly heartbroken, and actually nauseous at times. It feels strange to me to be legitimately grieving a fictional character, but it’s not a bad thing to feel this way. To me, this just shows that CRWBY loves her just as much as us to have written her so well that we connect so completely with her, that it feels like we lost an actual piece of ourselves when she’s gone.

But as you can probably tell by the title, this mega post isn’t gonna be about accepting this end, not in the slightest! Today I want to share canon evidence that can point towards another return of our beloved quirky red headed cinnamon bun! I’m here to spread this hope that I and others in the Nuts & Dolts dolts Discord server have!

I have this separated into many different sections to keep these thoughts organized. With that said, here goes…

A Father’s Words:

In Episode 7 of Volume 7, ‘Worst Case Scenario’ we learn the origins of Penny’s aura, and thus her soul. We also learn that it takes more aura each time she’s brought back. This leaves open an option that could be used at a later point.

Many people theorized that Pietro could indeed revive Penny one more time, which he would absolutely do. But there also lies the possibility that someone else could donate some of theirs, I’m not sure about this as I feel like it’s akin to blood donation where compatibility matters or there's a high risk of altering her, but the possibility is definitely there.

Now, the conversation in Chapter 5 of Volume 8, ‘Amity’ that Pietro and Penny have is an important moment for both Father and Daughter. It was there to show how her death in PvP all that time ago really did have a heavy impact on him and is still affecting him to this day.

Instead of continuing to pretend that everything is A-okay, like he had done for most of Volume 7, he finally lets his true feelings about how it come out to Penny for what is quite likely the first time. Even going so far as to say "Are you asking me to go through that again?" when she offers to take the risk of trying to lift Amity with her power. He wants Penny to be able to live her life.

This entire scene with Pietro established “this is what will likely happen” even if circumstances are much different now, it doesn’t negate the fact that this is a key part of Penny’s story. Scenes like these have a purpose beyond simply making an eventual death all the more heart wrenching. Her never actually getting to live her life makes those scenes basically moot. It makes them effectively pointless from narrative point of view. Unless there's more to it.

Building Relationship:

The build up between Ruby and Penny the last two volumes has been absolutely phenomenal with a definite destination in mind, and this doesn’t feel like that destination. So much of the arc of this season was to help Penny. This girl that our main protagonist absolutely adores and treasures, it would just be awful to throw all of that out for what amounts to an avoidable end. Why use so much of their precious and very limited runtime on deliberately building up this relationship only to end it abruptly, and permanently, when they’re separated?

In my opinion, RT is definitely smarter now than to intentionally set up what was really looking like a budding gay relationship only to kill one of them for good. If N&D wasn't actually going in a romantic direction, why would they leave in all of the romance-adjacent stuff that they got, that's not how ‘just friends’ act. And that is not something you use such valuable time building up for absolutely no pay off whatsoever...

Representation of Hope:

At its core, RWBY has always been about hope. It’s not at the forefront the whole time, but there's been an underlying theme of hopefulness that has persisted since it began. Some describe the show as a Hopepunk, I personally find this to describe RWBY really well. This genre of storytelling is about caring for things deeply and the courage and strength it takes to do so. It’s about never submitting or accepting the way things are. Fighting for what you believe in and standing up for others. RWBY fits all of this extremely well. How does this relate to Penny? She has been shown to be a sign of hope for everyone, but especially for Ruby, the main main protagonist. A prerequisite for a Hopepunk story is the hope.

Her first death in V3 was something that fundamentally changed Ruby. For the first time in the series, we see our main character all but broken by this event. With the loss of Penny, immediately afterwards, Ruby’s hope followed. She made up for it through determination and force of will. We see it affect her multiple times throughout the journey to Volume 7. But upon her return in V7, Hope reached a high point for everyone, the sheer relief on Ruby’s face is plain to see!

In V8 chapter 5 ‘Amity’, Penny literally raises hope by lifting the arena into the sky so Ruby could spread her message. And when she falls, and Amity with her, the connection is lost and hope plummets again. From there things take a very negative turn with the hack begins to take Penny’s agency.

In chapter 11 ’Risk’ is the point in the arc where everyone is reunited for the moment, so two separate hero stories are no longer a thing at that point in time. For the time being focus seemed to be shifted to care about the characters and how they’re going to solve the current problems. This is also where Ruby reaches her lowest emotional point in the season.

It’s not huge, but it’s interesting how connected this is. Before Ruby and Yang share a good cry over learning the possible fate of Summer, Yang brings up restoring optimism and hope to Ruby after the younger sister storms out of the room in frustration. This is where Penny’s scenes take up the rest of the episode. Getting Penny back in control of her own body and safe again is what makes the ending of the episode much brighter, when just 5 minutes before Ruby had been distraught and scared. This then spills over into the group coming up with the plan to use the staff, putting the main group in a much better mood. Of all the things to go right, it’s interesting that it’s Penny.

Things go wrong with the plan in the end and Penny dies. I find it interesting that once again, Penny got them hopeful in their chances of doing something right. Given said plan succeeded but at the cost of Penny of all people, Penny is shown to be the beginning and end of hope for them

The highest and lowest points for hope seem to directly correlate to when Penny’s around. When she comes back again, hope will return too, just like it had before. And because she’ll likely be back for good this time, the second return will probably be close to when Ruby is nearing the complete abandonment of hope. This would be pretty par for the course of the show honestly.

A little aside, but in a sense, Penny also represents Unity. The CCT in Vale fell after her first death, knocking out global communications and the unifying connection it gave. When it was restored for the briefest moment, she was there. Her body connected so she could allow for its launch, her soul lighting the night to hold up Amity with every ounce of her strength. So of course when the Hack succeeds and she falls, she takes global comms down again with her. At a smaller scale - even at the Hack's second last attempt to control her, she draws everyone in the Schnee Manor together. At the start of the volume, Yang states the one thing that they all agree on is not surrendering Penny.

Unity seems appropriate for one whose first song and wish was for but one friend, who would go on to find so many more in the process, and permit for a moment the possibility of all Remnant becoming friends once more. Where she first died, the name of the episode devoted to her story - Amity, "friendship", from the Latin root amicus, "friend" - she almost lives and dies with the very possibility of a united Remnant. It's no wonder she's a priority target for Salem, the great divider, and it seems natural that her next restoration may very well allow the next bid to bring the world together.

The Void Screams:

Moments after Penny's death, we hear a weird scream in the void space. It was a guttural, pained, angry scream, almost like the void space itself was crying out. All the portals shuddered and flickered when it happened.

Some think that this scream was Salem returning, but that happens earlier than Penny’s death, her return is signaled with cinder's arm acting up. We know this because after the arm finished flailing uncontrollably, Cinder said triumphantly "she's back." If it were Salem screaming, it would have happened after she fixed herself, but it didn't.

And I doubt Cinder would have been surprised or unsettled by it considering she was happy Salem returned not long before it. And why would a Salem scream affect the portals anyway, she has no connection to the staff or it's magic.

Another thing to consider is the fact sound is not transmitted through the portals. Otherwise, they would've heard Oscar and the rest calling for them, or the screams of the citizens of Mantle and Atlas. This lowers the possibility of that scream being from Salem even further.

The sound really seems to be coming from something else entirely within the void, and that something is not at all happy. There’s also the fact that Penny was the only person who died in the void space, everyone else was just thrown out of it like Ruby and Co. The only logical cause to me is Penny. Her body was a product (or byproduct) of the same creation magic that made the void space, her blood seems to have been a trigger.

Now I can't be sure about it, but this makes me feel like Penny is almost a part of creation itself? For whatever this thing is to be so angry, that is the only explanation I can think of currently. But all of this could possibly relate to the Narnia allusion of 'the willing victim killed in a traitor's stead' that others have brought up, which will be covered next.

Narnia Parallels:

Atlas has several parallels and references to fictional places (putting aside real world ones like the United States). One of those is that of Narnia, both on the surface and on a deeper level. It is a land of winter year round, where people struggle to survive and there is a present divide between those loyal to the current Monarch and those who are not. James is a parallel to Jadis, the White Witch, a ruler whose thoughts and cares aren’t exactly centered around the actual well being of the people. The hologram table in Ironwood’s office is designed to look like stone, like the Stone Table which features prominently in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. He has a handpicked cadre of special agents/secret police, like how Maugrim and his wolves served Jadis. Another key parallel is how Jadis’s winter sets in to oppress and kill everyone in Narnia, but the Witch provides aid and protection to her loyal followers. She has all the power to spare harm to others, and uses it only for the loyal. As soon as Mantle splits from James and Atlas, no care is taken to protect them from the cold of Solitas even though he has every ability to turn the heating grid back on. His protection is only for the loyal.

Now that the parallel is established, let's look into the details. Starting with how James plays the role of Jadis.

"I had forgotten that you are only a common boy. How should you understand reasons of State? You must learn, child, that what would be wrong for you or for any of the common people is not wrong in a great Queen such as I. The weight of the world is on our shoulders. We must be freed from all rules. Ours is a high and lonely destiny." These are the words Jadis says in the Magician’s Nephew to justify the blood civil war she and her sister had waged for rulership of Charn, before she came to Narnia. She won that war, technically, but only after the last battle had been lost and her sister had marched right up to her so that they were face to face. Jadis’s troops were dead, her followers had surrendered, and the capital was under full control of her sister. But, she still had one card, one ultimate play to win and prove the throne of Charn was rightfully her. The Deplorable Word, a piece of old magic that killed everyone and everything except for her on Charn. It was monstrous, senseless, cruel beyond measure. But it got her that hollow victory. This mindset, the disregard for the people except as tools for her own will, the ultimate ‘aoe’ destructive move that no one had even considered her using, the unwillingness to stop even when by all practical measures the war is over, is a shocking parallel to James. In many ways, he is Jadis in mindset and deed.

Then there is the shared desire for A Thing that both James and Jadis have. For James it’s the Winter Maiden and control over her. For Jadis it’s the Silver Apples from the Tree of Youth. And funnily enough, the Maiden Powers parallel the Apples quiet well. These apples grant power and a life of eternal beauty, but should not be taken or eaten on one’s own initiative. They must be given, a gift granted by another, or only suffering will come from obtaining them. "For the fruit always works — it must work — but it does not work happily for any who pluck it at their own will. If any Narnian, unbidden, had stolen an apple and planted it here to protect Narnia, it would have protected Narnia. But it would have done so by making Narnia into another strong and cruel empire like Charn, not the kindly land I mean it to be.” Jadis’s immortality, and some of her power, come from the fact that she ate an Apple of her own will after stealing her way into the garden where the Tree of Youth had been planted. She gained the eternal life she had wanted and the power along with it, but she did so by taking it and was cursed because of it. Her skin turned pale and her lips blackened as if she were a frozen corpse given life. She will be trapped in a life of misery and hate according to Aslan- oh hey Cinder, how’s having stolen the Power you always wanted working out for you? Cinder had the power she wanted, but she only got hungrier, eager to claim more and increase her might. But in her pursuit she was defeated and humiliated by Raven, had to steal her way out of Mistral, and then suffered defeat after defeat while in Atlas. Only in the end, when she didn’t keep pursuing the Maiden Power, did she get any kind of victory.

The reason these parallels to Narnia are so important is one of the most famous events of the series. The cracking of the Stone Table and the rebirth of Aslan after his death. ‘When a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.’ Well, the ‘Stone Table’ in James’s office has cracked, and Penny strikes me as a pretty willing victim. She has never actually committed any actual treachery or harm, as she was the Protector of Mantle, and fought for its and Atlas’s people until the very end. And because of her death, the actual traitor, Winter, who loyally served James until he had gone too far, was saved. Through Penny’s self sacrifice, Winter was saved. So now Death itself will start working backward.

(Major props to my friend @catontheweb for writing this section, I was getting nowhere with it, if they weren't there this part wouldn't exist!)

Norse Mythology:

The tree we see in the post credit scene gives off some serious Yggdrasil vibes. Also called the World Tree, it is essentially all of creation in Norse Mythology. It connects all nine realms, including the God realms of Asgard, the human realm of Midgard, and the underworld of Hel.

Humans are born from the branches of Yggdrasil. The web of Wyrd is woven for every person once they're born, and their path is set from there regardless of how many times the souls cycle over. But at the end, they're destined to end up in one of the worlds, for a myriad of reasons.

I believe Penny landed closest to this giant tree. She was on the center platform in the void space, so if that space is directly above the island(?) the tree is on, it makes sense for her to fall by the center nearest to the tree. This would not only open up all kinds of possibilities for the volume in general, but it would also create options for Penny.

The whole of Yggdrasil’s representations fit well into Penny’s story. Birth, growth, death and rebirth. We can count Penny’s appearance in V7 as birth for now, her growth is all her development in leaving =the military and becoming a Maiden, her death just happened, and her rebirth would be her revival. And this is a cycle she’s gone through before.

The Norse god Odin and Yggdrasil have quite a connection. In one story, Odin cut out one of his own eyes to gain knowledge from a pool underneath Yggdrasil. The only one that fell whose eyes alone are incredibly significant to the story was Ruby. So, they could choose to have her allude to Odin by having Ruby make some kind of deal with whatever entity likely rules over this magical place. An eye for Penny’s life.

There’s another story about Odin, Yggdrasil and the pursuit of knowledge. Odin so loved knowledge, that he sacrificed himself in a quest to learn the deeper magic of runes. It was believed one could only learn the magic spells from runes in death. So, Odin hung himself on Yggdrasil for nine days as an offering, and teetered between life and death. After he mastered the last spell on the ninth night, he ritually died and all light was extinguished from the world. Odin’s death lasted until midnight, when he was reborn and light returned to the world.

This story doesn’t fit Penny perfectly, but allusions often don’t. So If she really did land near the tree, she could be another loose representation of Odin’s story here. What she did wasn’t for knowledge, but to save her friends and keep Cinder from getting the Winter Maiden power. She believed it necessary that she sacrifice herself to achieve this end. As we established, Penny represents Hope, so her death means the loss of hope. This parallels Odin’s story of his death meaning the loss of light itself. So if this theory holds up, it would make this death temporary, until her rebirth and the return of Hope with her once again.

Alternatively, Ruby has the potential of loosely representing Odin in this story as well. Odin later uses the knowledge of the runes to do many things, but the most relevant one right now is awakening the dead. Both of these stories are about making a personal sacrifice to gain something that is desired. Ruby would absolutely make such sacrifices if it meant saving Penny.

It is said that Odin lived “according to his highest will unconditionally, accepting whatever hardships arise from that pursuit, and allowing nothing, not even death, to stand between him and the attainment of his goals." This sounds like Penny's arc of accepting the WM powers. This is more just a general connection between Penny and Odin, but I found it interesting.

Side Note: I encourage anyone who’s interested to look into RWBY connections to Norse Myth, there’s a surprising amount of things that feel eerily similar to the show. Likely just coincidental, but it’s fun to think about!

(If I got any of this wrong, I sincerely apologize by the way. I researched as best I could, but I admit it could have been lacking.)

Ambrosius and the Staff:

Ruby told Ambrosius "we kinda wanna keep her around longer than that" as part of her very specific instructions. Then Penny died about ten to fifteen minutes, at the absolute most thirty minutes later in-universe. I don’t know about you, but to me that seems very short to be considered ‘longer than that’. Technically it is, but when writing a story and a character says something like that, you typically don’t just kill the character they were referring to basically right away. It makes sense for a week-by-week watch, but in a volume binge, which many viewers do, it becomes ironic how fast Penny dies after being removed from her robotic body.

The first time we see the staff of creation being used, it's to save Penny. Using the staff of creation to help Penny is a sign of how incredibly important she is.

They’ve even got this entire transformation sequence for her, so it wouldn’t make sense for them to throw all that away two episodes later. In a meta context, it’s a massive waste of time and budget considering the asset creation for Penny.

Penny is a character who has already hopped bodies two times. And now we're supposed to just believe that this time it really is a final death? Just two episodes after we were explicitly told her body isn't what matters, that "Her soul is who she is" and that "the mechanical parts are just extra"? From a writing perspective, it feels strange, like your breaking a promise right after making it. And frankly, CRWBY is better than that, which makes me think this is not the actual end for her.

A possible connection between Penny, Ruby, and the Staff (thus Creation) can be seen in the intro. As Ruby is falling and being dragged down into the darkness, she is shown reaching for the staff. In the void space, Penny is the one with the relic. So with Penny having this strong connection to Creation, and the lyrics “fight for every life” playing as Ruby reaches for the staff, it’s a safe assumption to make, with the knowledge we now have, that the Staff of Creation represents Penny in this particular moment. Which could mean that V9 will be about, at least partially, fighting for Penny’s life.

Musical Hints:

In terms of music, Friend, as a song for Penny, is very dissonant from the episode itself. The song is oddly cheerful for Penny’s recent untimely death, and it overall highlights the wrong parts of death. It’s simply too happy to be a song about losing one of the most, if not the most joyous characters in the entire show. The song also abruptly ends. There’s no outro, and while this could symbolize the fact that Penny died young, it could be that the song itself is unfinished in a story sense.

What do we hear just before the song finishes, though? A progression of notes that sounds eerily similar to the last line of the opening of Volume 8. The notes for “Fight for ev’ry life” and “Who fin’lly felt alive'' share a similar melodic structure, they aren’t perfect clones of each other, but they are incredibly similar, to the point where it seems intentional. Penny may very well be the life that the opening song is fighting for. It is also worth noting that the line “Fight for every life” comes just after “Sometimes it’s worth it all to risk the fall,” which is the exact wording used for the description in the Volume 8 finale. Team RWBY risked the fall, yet, strangely the opposite of fighting for every life happened with Penny’s sacrifice. Perhaps the time to fight for every life has yet to happen, and we will see it come Volume 9.

For another thing, the lyrics for Friend are entirely centered on Penny’s feelings for Ruby, to the point where they read very much like a bittersweet love song. The music itself is incredibly cheerful, as mentioned previously, creating a mood whiplash with the end of the volume. Why would we hear a song about Penny’s feelings for Ruby, sounding like a love song, if her death is supposed to be a tragic sacrifice akin to Pyrrha’s? The song may very well be giving a clue into its future use in the show proper.

If this was meant to be a good bye song, why make it so cheerful and romantic sounding? There's only one part about her dying and even then, it's just too accepting and goes right back into cheerfulness. The song is also pretty hopeful, telling Penny's story in a fairly chronological order. And the part where she talks about sacrifice is quite pointedly followed up by one about feeling alive. It also ends with the super cheerful chorus, the word "alive" being the last... (Remember the episode title: The Final Word)

(I want to thank my friend @shadow-0f-x for writing the majority of this section! I was struggling to choose how to tackle it as I am not well versed in music theory.)

What We Didn’t See:

It is likely that Penny understood Jaune's semblance better than him and figured something out about it’s abilities in the same way that she understood Ruby's semblance better than her. She had plenty of time to observe his semblance up close as he boosted her aura to stave off the virus. Because of that intentionally timed cutaway in the finale, we don’t get to hear her explain herself after her strained “Trust me.” All of that seems really suspicious to me.

Pyrrha Parallel:

Pyrrha and Penny both sacrificed themselves to stop or stall Cinder. Jaune tried to convince the both of them to stop. With Pyrrha, he failed, while with Penny he actively helped her sacrifice herself. Doesn’t make sense for the guy who was determined not to let anyone else do what Pyrrha did, unless of course Penny assured him she’d be alright.

The Moment:

RT including the suicide hotline in the description shows that they're aware that Penny basically committed assisted suicide, seeing it as a noble sacrifice worth doing to save her friends. They're aware, and I believe they're smart enough to condemn that decision to hell and back.

The best way to do that in my opinion is to pull her back into the land of the living and let her witness first hand the consequences of throwing her life away so freely. This would show Penny how her actions affected others so maybe she could learn to truly value herself. To not think herself expendable. It would be bold and unwise to portray this choice as something good, unless it was going to be called upon later and be pointed out for how horrible it really is.

On top of this, Penny was way too content with her death, happy even. There's no way team RWBY is letting her stay content with it. It’s almost as though we're supposed to join Ruby and Co. in calling bullshit on what Penny is saying and doing because no, Penny, this is not how things are meant to work. It's as if Penny was basically saying "I want to die for my friends" because most of the volume had been about everyone else making sure she didn't die. She knows it will hurt them. She knows.

At the peak of it all, a choice like this will totally destroy Ruby. It may very well be her breaking point for Volume 9. Curiously, the moment itself is written like it’s the first choice Penny’s ever made, yet the entire Volume shows this isn’t the case. However, this is the first choice that Penny’s made solely independently and it’s rather pertinent that the choice she makes is a mistake. Outside of giving Winter the Maiden gift and saving the day temporarily, this sacrifice will not have any lasting positive effects. Jaune will be saddled with the grief of killing Penny. Ruby will have to live with losing her best friend and not being able to protect her a second time, and Winter now has the burden of the Winter Maiden abilities, making her a target of Cinder. This is a bad thing, and Penny needs to see the long term consequences.

Transfer of Power:

As we all know, colors in RWBY are really important and get a lot of focus in the show. That means the yellow we see as Penny gives Winter the Maiden Powers was intentional and likely important, no matter how insignificant it may seem. It’s possible that the transfer effect being yellow could have something to do with Jaune’s semblance. When Fria gave the power to Penny, the effect was very much blue, so this transfer should have been green since she was the one giving it this time. The weirdness of this transfer and the focus on color in RWBY really makes it look like something’s up with how that went down.

A little off topic, but Penny saying "I won't be gone, I'll be part of you." makes me think... Winter is smart, so when she gets time to think about what Penny said, maybe she'll arrive at the same question many in the audience came to; if she's literally part of Winter, can they be separated again? If Winter starts questioning that, the possibility of Penny coming back just skyrockets.

Fria actually tells Penny "I'll be gone" before giving her powers up, which is an interesting contrast to Penny telling Winter "I won't be gone". She may have gotten that line from Winter be all philosophical in V7, saying Fria was now a part of Penny, but it hits differently coming from an actual Maiden. S5o it’s possible that Maidens usually actually will be gone, but Jaune's semblance did something to change that.

This could go well with the theory that they won't need to find an aura transfer machine, or build another one, because Jaune will have a semblance evolution allowing him to do the transfer instead. It might actually be that this evolution already happened and the golden light we saw was Jaune transferring penny's aura to Winter in some way?

An observation that I find interesting is when Penny gives winter the powers, not only is the aura yellow but penny completely glows yellow too, and she obviously starts to disappear, but she doesn’t seem to fully disappear, she just glows.

It's possibly a fading out effect and she does fully fade but animation makes bright light easier, and so we don't actually see her disappear because she's dead and not gone. But it does once again emphasize the color yellow here!

And the color is coming from Penny, it does go up Winter's arm a bit, but Penny is clearly the source. This transfer is so weird and I’m not really sure how to interpret it. There's just actually no reason that we are aware of to make the effect yellow here is the thing. Unless it has something to do with either Jaune or Ambrosius, or potentially a combination of both...

Jaune’s Aura:

The way we see Jaune's aura break in the finale is strange. His aura shouldn't be breaking here. It had been long enough since he was boosting Penny, he's had time to recharge, and it didn't look like it was a strain on him at all. Plus, we know he has a lot of aura, so there probably wasn't too much to recharge in the first place.

He has a massive amount of aura, it has never broken before as far as I remember. Even if it has though, that doesn’t make this occurrence any less odd. It should absolutely never be a one-hit KO. We didn't see anything that would've drained it, that should not have been enough to break his aura. Unless he did something - something that would require a huge amount of aura - that we just didn't see. That amount of aura drain is far more than just an attempt at healing would do, Jaune absolutely did something with his semblance that took up almost all of his aura.

Pinocchio Allusion:

As any Penny fan knows, her character allusion is Pinocchio, the puppet who became a real boy. Penny deviates from the allusion by having always been a real girl, as Ruby is quick to point out, but she shares many story beats with her original story including multiple deaths. In the original story, Pinocchio dies from being hung by his own strings due to his poor decision making and he dies. Sounds a little familiar, does it not? This is where his tale originally ended. Readers were unsatisfied with this ending however, so the author decided to change the story by reviving Pinocchio and teaching him to be more careful.

Unlike Pinocchio making all the wrong decisions, Penny often makes the right ones, or ones she thinks is right, when concerning others. While usually a good thing, this has meant Penny almost giving herself up multiple times during V8, her last attempt being successful. This is where Penny and Pinocchio begin to share similarities again. They are both very reckless when it concerns themselves. This carelessness comes from different places, but it ends with the same result of them endangering their lives and even sometimes losing them.

In the Disney movie, Pinocchio dies by drowning after going to rescue Geppetto and washes up on the shore (like the beach in V8’s post credit scene). His father is devastated and takes him home to grieve, but as a reward for his selflessness in rescuing his father, the Blue Fairy returns and brings him back to life, as well as granting him humanity. Penny sacrificed her life as well, and it stands to reason that she should be rewarded for it, much like her allusion was.

Penny got her maiden powers from someone with blue aura and then gave her powers to someone with blue aura. So it could be that not only Ambrosius, but Fria and Winter as well represent the Blue Fairy. It could be set up for Winter helping to bring Penny back to life once more. It’s an out there theory I admit, but it’s not outright impossible either. The Blue Fairy in Pinocchio saved him three times that I know of, so RWBY having three representations does make sense.

Geppetto wished for him to live as a real boy, but it depended on what path Pinocchio took. This is very reminiscent of Penny and Pietro. Pietro wants to see her live her life, and surely with him absent in V8C14 that didn't work, despite Penny choosing. Her father did not see her happy enough to live her life, and will only be able to learn her death through others. But Pinocchio's themes were life and being alive. So the likelihood that this is not her end yet is quite high!

A Girl That Fell Through the World:

Penny could be the girl who fell through the world. The girl in the story fled the consequences of a choice. The only person who chose her ultimate fate was Penny. The others were pushed into the void, but she chose to die. The consequence of her choice is Ruby’s grief first and foremost, which Penny won’t see. The girl who fell through the world does come back though, and the world will be changed severely with Penny’s absence. Alternatively, it could also be Penny coming back to Wonderland or wherever they currently are, as long as it’s unrecognizable to her.

What Returning Brings:

Others might say another return would have no story relevant purpose, but I wholeheartedly disagree. Penny gives a profoundly youthful, joyous, and wondrous outlook on the world and story that we hadn't seen since Ruby in Volumes 1-3(not the end), Penny returning would bring a much needed levity back in after the despair they will undoubtedly be going through. While not necessarily a huge thing in most other shows, for RWBY, a show largely about keeping up hope, an ounce of such relief is a necessity.

As much as I hate saying it, Penny’s death does actually make some narrative sense because she had to pass on the Maiden powers. (They could have done this in a number of ways, and I personally think they chose rather poorly, but I digress.) Throughout this whole volume, we can see Penny seemingly being set up to join the main cast, but would have been too strong with the powers. This also accomplishes ridding her of the burden of responsibility that comes with being a Maiden and lets her obtain the freedom that’s so important to her character.

Once she returns, seeing this grief that her actions caused, particularly to Ruby, will get her to realize more that her actions can have serious repercussions. She made a choice, but that choice hurt the people she loves. She must have known that it would but I’m not sure she ever realized just how much.

I didn’t want this post to be heavy in the shipping department, so I largely left it out, but I am going to say this one thing that could have an impact. If Nuts & Dolts is on its way to being canon, which this volume makes it feel highly likely, this could be a catalyst.

It could prompt an arc for the both of them in which Penny learns to live her life fighting for her loved ones, rather than sacrificing it for them. A relationship could potentially start from there. And Ruby seeing Penny learn these things may also help her to stop doing the occasional but very dangerous and reckless things she does. Ruby witnessing Penny coming to terms with what she did to the people that care about her would actually make her stop to think “wait, is this how everyone else would feel if I got myself killed?” That would be a very important moment of character growth for her.

I’m certain there are other significant things that Penny returning can bring to the show. And there are definitely more sections I could add to this. At this point though, assuming anyone even made it this far, I think I’ve been going long enough already. So let’s just roll into the outro!

As painful and hopeless as it seems, I'm choosing to trust them with this because there is absolutely no way they didn't see backlash coming. The way this finale went makes me think that they calculated for backlash and aren’t jumping into something they don’t have a plan to recover from. Whether this trust is unfounded or not remains to be seen, but I don’t think it is currently. I do think, however, that the cause of this backlash was a major misstep. Now that it has happened though, they have a chance to do something good with it.

I know for a lot of you, trust in CRWBY has been damaged, some even irreparably so. And for those that feel this way, I don’t blame you. My trust in them took a hit too, but isn’t broken completely yet. There are many ways that they can bring her back that would make sense with the narrative, they have the ability to make it right, and after going over all of the hints and general weirdness of things many times, I think they will.

I'm feeling pretty confident now and I really didn't expect that to happen at all to be honest. But discussing and theorizing with the discord server seriously helped get my hopes back up surprisingly fast! It’s actually thanks to all of them that this gigantic post even happened! So thanks a ton my fellow Dolts! And a special thanks to!!

@arcana-amicus

@catontheweb

@cosmokyrin

@gaydontmesswithme224

@jammatown919

@shadow-0f-x

They really helped get this thing across the finish line!

And thank YOU for reading all~ of this! I sincerely wish it gave you some of the hope and confidence that I now have!

[felikatze]

give me the a brainworms i am deeply invested in this man

(0) (2) (3) (4)

okay first of all you asked for this. second of all if i am a little off track from the game that is explained by me just building thoughts like building blocks without looking back. third i was supposed to be studying for an exam but this counts as practice right? it's character analysis anyway lmao.

buckle the fuck up, my dearest anon, because I have sub headings.

1. A as the Player Character

Let me begin with why I am obsessed with this horrid little guy in the first place: he's a silent protagonist. I am always obsessed with protagonists. It's a law of nature. I love taking hollow characters and dissecting them for scraps. It's a long standing practice of mine.

Being a silent protagonist, A, as X, does not have a set personality. However, there are patterns. Firstly, as any semi-silent protagonist, A is a reactive character. He does not start incidents, he only responds to situations, presented by the Sephirah, as they arise. He does not actively seek out new information, merely going about the routine of expanding departments, but expresses curiosity when information is presented to him.

I'm aware fandom likes to characterize X and A differently, likely because they are initially presented as different characters. I, on the other hand, would like to pose the theory that they are more similar than expected.

I believe that A is also a reactive character, rather than active. Despite the fandom wiki describing him as stubborn, the goal A pursues with such fervor, the completion of the Seed of Light, is not actually a goal he set for himself. Carmen is the one who set this goal for him by leaving him her legacy.

Throughout the backstory we get relating to the Cogito Project, A is Carmen's assistant, whereas Carmen is the driving researcher. This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be; going with the flow of goals set for them by superiors. Yes I will get into his attachment to Carmen later.

The above is not to say A isn't stubborn. Once he has accepted a goal as his own, he will pursue it at all costs, as is obvious from any and all flashbacks leading to horrible deaths. But the point isn't his pursuit of the goal, but where that goal comes from. Even Lobcorp itself supports this, despite what Hokma may say; A as X follows the "simple" task of managing the Corp's day to day activities, and executes any mission given to him by the Sephirah. He outranks them, and doesn't actually need to do their missions, but does so anyway. Players are driven by the reward offered by those missions, of course, and A might be the same in that regard. Nonetheless, at no point in gameplay do you do anything somebody else hasn't told you to.

The overarching narrative of the Script would be the most obvious example. Every single person in the game follows the script, whether they know it or not.

Lastly on this note, a phrase we hear attributed to A, "Machines must behave as machines." Now, Angela may be attached to this phrase because it bears significance to herself as a machine, and informs most of A's unjust treatmeant of her. However, what if it doesn't just apply to machines? The phrase reads as such, "Everyone must act according to their own role."

2. A, Carmen, and the disease of the mind

So, A will at any cost pursue goals Carmen set for him. Question is, why? The obvious answer would be saying he's in love with her, which like, true. But also, how did Carmen come to be so precious to him?

Let us return to the comparison, "This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be." We don't really know why exactly most characters joined Carmen, excluding mainly Daniel and Benjamin. But this does not mean we can't have theories.

Carmen's ideal was curing the "disease of the mind." What is the disease? Complete hopelessness. The inability to form aspirations and dreams, to think of a better future. A is a very reactive character who does not set goals for himself. Therefore, I personally conclude, that initially, Carmen's ideology resonated with him because he could identify with the disease.

This is the point where I start rewatching Lobcorp story clips. Dear god.

So, by briefly binging day 27 onward, I've come up with lines that very much support this lil theory of mine:

First, from Carmen, a description of the disease, "People lock away their own potential."

Second, a line from Angela, after the memory synchronization, "You've locked yourself in this prison without bars."

Carmen describes A as humble, and Benjamin thinks he is warm. If I suppose A was one of the diseased initially, Carmen would be the catalyst for this change. Carmen was someone with big aspirations, with plans to heal what is wrong with the City, and it gave him hope. He was one of the diseased, but through time with Carmen, with that relentless optimistic spirit, he may have been cured, for a time. It's not a stretch to say that she was his light.

But lor shows us what happens when the seed of light sprouts wrong, doesn't it? It distorts. A grasped hope for the first time and then it is ruthlessly crushed. Carmen was everything. Yes, A is described as a jack-of-all-trades, as a genius in all pursuits he puts his mind to, but what does that matter in the face of someone who can unite people? Who can give them hope of a better world? Who can inspire them to actually use the talents they have?

And what kind of pressure is it to put the legacy of a messiah in the hands of the diseased?

3. A and the Perception Filter: A is weak to White damage

No, I am serious about that. He's extremely weak mentally. Obviously death of a loved one is a changing experience for absolutely anybody, but Carmen's death destroyed him.

Not only did he refuse to confide this grief to anyone and bottled it up, now everybody looked to him to lead the project, but he just isn't Carmen. He isn't an ambitious person, he doesn't have the same optimism, he can't bring people together, but people expected him to, and he failed. Hard.

While he was without a doubt talented in science, he was also just an average guy.

After her death, A grew to hate humans. He lost trust in them. He refused to confide in anyone, and be confided in by anyone. Thus, the team fell apart.

In both lobcorp and lor, we get interesting tidbits about precations taken to protect the manager.

Firstly, Lobcorp's perception filter. The cartoony art-style of the game is a result of the game being in first person. Through the eyes of the manager, everything is cartoony!

This is a measure undertaken to specifically protect the manager's psyche. Angela tells us that, before it was deployed, the manager would frequently go insane, one notable incident including the manager trying to hang himself. When we first hear this, the previous managers and X are still separate in our minds. However, they're all A! A went insane multiple times without it.

This is understandable, considering that employees also frequently go insane and try to kill both themselves and others. But they're there in action, confronting the Abnormalities directly. Just watching them made the manager go mad. They could not handle the responsibility for the employees' deaths.

In lor, Angela explains why she picked the Rabbit Team from R Corp as their main contractor instead of any other team. One team was simply too big for L Corp's narrow hallways, and the other team... dealt in psychic damage. It was simply too big of a risk for the manager. But the manager is always secure behind the cameras. Would that teams methods just be that brutal visually, or would their attacks have reached the manager?

Combined with his immense grief at all of his friends and coworkers dying in part because of him, A cannot bear to look at death.

4. A's greatest flaw: Avoidance

A common thread during Core Meltdown flashbacks: A refuses to look at suffering. He just can't. Whether it be looking away from Elijah writhing on the floor or hanging up on Daniel's panicked report of death.

This is actually the thing Angela takes the biggest issue with, and what hurt her most. A would never look at her, acknowledge her, and she did not understand why. But I think A did not refuse to look at her out of maliciousness. Rather, it was out of grief over Carmen. He could not look at her without being reminded of what he lost.

Angela's creation came about because A wanted someone to guide him, someone like Carmen. He threw himself into the project to the point it made Benjamin happy that A was passionate about anything again. But as soon as the project he distracted himself with is complete, he is filled with regret. Carmen cannot be replicated, and he breaks again.

Furthermore, tying this back to my first point about A being a reactive person, we see Angela take charge over A. She's the one recruiting employees and leading the business. It was likely a relief for him to be able to step down from the leading position.

But avoiding it made everything worse. He did not act when he saw Elijah's unchecked ambition, he did not act beyond a simple check at Gabriel's decay, he gave Giovanni the same hope he clung to to no avail, et cetera et cetera.

Avoiding his problems is making them worse and sending everything down the drain (including his psyche), so he deals with it the only way he knows how, avoiding them more!

Biggest example of A's big avoidance problem as his psyche crumbles: the memory wipe. A, in perhaps his one singular moment of acknowledging his emotions, recognizes that he is incapable of fulfilling the Script in his current state. His grief is just too much.

By erasing his own memory, he could start fresh without his grief, because he might've really killed himself otherwise. His suffering became bigger and bigger, and he coped by avoiding it.

The memory wipe allowed him to distangle his problems. Through his interactions with the Sephirah (which I will not individually detail for the sake of my sanity and because I dumped all this on a friend on discord already), he can deal with and actually process his issues one at a time.

As the motto describes, only by facing the fear can he build the future. Only by finally facing his grief and acknowleding it, seeing that the past cannot be changed and he has no choice to move forward, can he actually do so.

5. The Sephirah as ghosts

Lobotomy Corporation feels like a ghost story. I've touched upon this in my previous A post.

As you reach the Corp's lower levels, there are less Sephirah. First there are four. They act like normal employees, and do not breach into the story's underbelly until you reach their core supressions and the facade breaks. Second, counting Tiphereth as one, there are three. They still go about their duties, but they know what they are. Third, there are two, and the facade is gone. They know what they are, and they will tell you about the sins of the past.

And finally, you reach Keter, and there is only one.

This gradual decay of the facade is what really gets to me. I said that by interacting with the Sephirah, A deals with his issues one by one, but that's what the Sephirah are, in this case. Representations.

The people the Sephirah used to be are dead, and the Sephirah are their ghosts. The core supression involve putting these ghosts to rest. Doesn't it match the progression of a typical ghost story? Find the ghost, find what they used to be, and help them move on.

So, if everyone is a ghost, then A is alone.

But, behind the scenes, the Sephirah are still there. They are still people, and they have changed for the better, too. As always, A simply does not look.

(Does he even see the good others see in him? Does he look away from praise, too? Did he even realize Benjamin's admiration for him? Will we ever know?)

6. A's end.

A's progression of moving on would be fine and dandy if it did not end as thus: A does kill himself.

A sees himself beyond the point of no return. Everyone is dead. He is alone. Carmen is never coming back. He can't call it quits now, or else everything has been in vain. (Even if the last days show us a part of him wants to just quit, so badly.)

So, there's only one thing left to do: follow the Script to its ending. Fulfill Carmen's legacy at all costs. Death as the ultimate release.

This is the point where I admit I do not like the death as release trope. But the game does a good enough job as presenting it as the only option A had, or the only option he saw himself as having.

However, I've mentioned it before, I'll mention it again: A was not alone. Death was his release, but he left wreckage. In order to end his own suffering, he inflicted the same pain he went through on others.

Throughout the game, he moves on and pushes through. The ending shows that in reality... he didn't.

At least in lor the characters stick together and help each other heal.

This has been most of my thoughts on A, amounting to my longest analysis post ever, having taken me approximately two and a half hours to complete, and clocking in at 2337 words including up to this paragraph.

Thank you anon for giving me the incentive to verbalize all of this, so I can finally be at ease having inflicted my thoughts on everybody else.

[jetsam-kisa]

Michiko vs Jetsam

Whew! This is done! I got carried away so I am very sorry for the length :’D

Michiko’s mod and I had some fun talking about our characters and especially the gear Michi is developing!

Unfortunately they were very busy this week, but I was more than happy to write the fight results :D 

CW: emetophobia // there is a brief scene describing vomit semi-graphically

The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium as Jetsam Kisa and Michiko Watanabe entered the battle arena. Both of the students walked to their side of the arena with a sense of purpose, even if they were nervous wrecks on the inside. Once they took their proper starting positions, the two contestants smiled weakly at each other as the announcer called out their names and the people in the crowd cheered for the next fight. 

‘I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out,’ Jetsam thought as he gnawed on his lips in anticipation, ‘That or throw up. Oh god I hope I don’t throw up in the middle of the match. Everyone here is watching. God, my parents are watching,’ Thick, heavy plums of smoke rolled out of his mouth the more frantic his thoughts became, until they nearly completely cloaked his figure, ‘I think I saw Best Jeanist in the stands too! He’s not going to want to associate with the kid who threw up during his first match. What am I doing here? What am I even going to do-?” 

Jetsam was snapped out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts by movement in his periphery; Michiko gently waved her hands at him and gave him a broader smile, despite clearly being nervous herself (if the crease in her brow was any clue to her emotional state).

“Let’s both do our best during this fight, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out from her side of the arena, before her gaze hardened with a resolve she often reserved for studying the most complex of quirks, “Although, I hope you know that I will not be taking it easy on you. I need to see how far I can go, and to learn about the extent of my current abilities.”

Seeing Michiko’s determination and hearing her will to succeed was like a salve to Jetsam’s shot nerves. He took a deep breath, then released the pent up smog. The smoke surrounding his body partially dissipated too. It was almost a shame how well Michiko’s words calmed him down; he would be better off easily producing the pollutants that came with high stress. Jetsam briefly wondered if her kindness was double-edged in a way; was it a strategic way to prevent him from building up his quirk before the match? He shook the thought out of his head before yelling back to her:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Michi!”

He could only hope that his grin masked the nerves that were still rolling in his stomach. He knew Michiko; knew her quirk. It could only be activated by physical contact, so as long as he kept his distance he should be okay. 

‘Although,’ Jetsam thought as he gazed at the chain-like device at Michiko’s hip, ‘that capture chain she’s been developing could be difficult to beat. I’ve never seen what it actually does before.’

All too quickly, the announcer began their countdown: “3...2...1...BEGIN!”

---------

As soon as the bell rang, Michiko shot forward, arm extended, with a single-minded determination to do one thing and one thing only: get to Jetsam before he could gain control of the battlefield with his quirk. If she could grab a hold onto him before his smogs and tars and other (frankly, gross) expellents became too overwhelming, then she could nullify his quirk with her own, and use her capture device to prevent him from continuing the fight.

Jetsam must have realized her plans, and had just enough time to dodge out of her range, smog spewing out of his mouth now that his adrenaline was no doubt pumping again. Not to be deterred, Michiko quickly shifted her balance and dove after him again, careful not to let him hide behind the pillars of smoke he was creating. 

‘He’s not going to make this easy for me, but I have been preparing for this occasion for too long to let this game of tag keep me from winning!’ She thought to herself, resolve growing with every inch closer she got to Jetsam, ‘He can’t avoid me forever, and I have a secret weapon I’ve been dying to beta test!’

After a few more moments of chasing after Jetsam, Michiko took a gamble and let him escape to the sanctuary of smog he created across the arena. She knew she had to be quick, but some risks had to be taken to assure victory! She knew that she had the power within her to win.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun her prototype, after all!

--------

‘Phew, I think I finally managed to shake her,’ Jetsam sighed with relief, dark smog still escaping his mouth and obscuring his figure to the crowd (and hopefully Michiko as well). ‘Now I have a moment to breathe. Hah, figuratively, at least.’

He made sure to keep his eye on the clear silhouette of Michiko he could make out through his smog, never before more grateful for his mom’s sight-related quirk partially making its way to him. She seemed to be standing still, perhaps strategizing her own plan to catch him and throw him out of the arena? He hoped the smoke wasn’t making her feel too sick. He had to be quick.  

‘I can probably end the battle if I cover her in tar and stop her movement. It might be unpleasant but it’d be safer than trying to beat her in hand-to-hand or some other physical contest. I haven’t been training with Tsumi for too long, after all. Yeah okay, that’s the plan!’

Just as he was about to produce the sticky tars necessary to carry out his plan, a thin silhouette darted out from Michi’s figure, slithering across the arena at a speed too quick for Jetsam to react to.

As a cold, thin figure coiled itself tightly around him, the only thought sparking across Jetsam’s brain was:

“Michiko brought a snake?”

-----

‘Bingo!’ Michiko exclaimed to herself as Jetsam’s no-doubt unconscious shout revealed not only his location, but the fact that her capture device had worked perfectly as intended.

While it still had quite a few bugs to sort out, one of the most recently added features was a heat-seeking tracker that would allow the machine to chase after targets even under adverse visible conditions. 

She cocked her head towards the direction of Jetsam’s quick yell of distress; she couldn’t get complacent. The capture device was only half the battle! She had to guarantee that Jetsam couldn’t continue the fight in order to assure her victory! 

She couldn’t just blindly run through the smokescreen either; who knows what kinds of traps he could have placed while she set up her capture device. No. She had to be methodical, and safely make her way to Jetsam’s location while he was encumbered. 

The smog was thick, but now she had her goal within sight: grapple Jetsam and nullify his quirk, thus ending the match.

-----

Okay, so it wasn’t a snake, but it was still bad news! Jetsam’s arms were completely pinned by the robotic device wrapped around his torso. So this was the work of the capture device that Michiko had worked so hard on? Jetsam had to admit that it was effective. He couldn’t fight with his limbs restrained like this, and that shout he gave out completely alerted Michiko to his location.

‘So this is it. The fight’s over, and I spent the whole time running away and cowering in the corner. Everyone is watching. Everyone saw. Everyone will know I’m just a big failure who doesn’t deserve to be here. Oh god what if Sato-sensei kicks me out of the hero course? What if they kick me out of the school?? What if everyone laughs and ignores me and hates me OH GOD-’ 

As the panicked thoughts swirled in Jetsam’s mind a pit formed in his stomach. A pit that rapidly expanded into a big, black ball of anxiety and nerves. He could almost picture it in his mind’s eye: an ugly, bloated orb dripping with heat and stress and bile. The more he envisioned it the more it grew until he could almost feel it spilling out of his mouth like a slick oil spill across his lips and---oh wait.

It wasn’t in his mind’s eye.

Jetsam groaned to himself as gushing rivets of slippery, rubbery oil spewed from his mouth all down the front of his body. 

“Well this is perfect!” Jetsam exclaimed to himself, although it was muffled by the sheer volume of oil that expelled out of him as he spoke. He really did throw up. God, could this fight be any more of a disaster?

First he gets captured by Michi’s device, then he literally vomits gross oil from the stress. Fantastic. He shifted uncomfortably, as the oils soaked into his jersey under the capture device and--wait a moment. Oil. Disgusting, smelly, beautifully SLIPPERY oil! That was slicking up his torso and arms even now!

Jetsam pulled his arms upwards experimentally and YES! They were sliding out, he wasn’t restrained anymore! Maybe he could hide again and strategize-

The victorious thought was cut off by a hand shooting out from the pillars of smog, reaching for his newly freed arms.

-----

“I finally found you, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out, jumping from out of the smokescreen with a triumphant smile. 

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Jetsam freed from his restraints, but she simply chalked it up to a prototyping failure; she could ask him about the specifics of how he escaped once the match was over, anyways.

This time Jetsam couldn’t dodge her oncoming attack, and Michiko grappled him to the ground, pinning his arms above his head. Now was her chance to nullify his quirk! She had been practicing in hand-to-hand combat, she could still push herself to her limits and come out on top!

Michiko began to focus her energy on her quirk, as Jetsam struggled underneath her. As soon as her quirk began its nullification, she saw the startled look in his dark eyes, and winced slightly in sympathy. She had been told that her quirk was a bit unpleasant to the target; with the process feeling not unlike having your blood drawn through your whole body.

As her quirk took effect, the copious amount of smoke around them began to disappear, once again fully revealing them to the crowd of spectators around the stadium. As her own vision began to clear she was startled to find them lying at the edge of the arena; if they had tussled a bit further out they would have been out of bounds.

Jetsam followed her gaze to the boundary line, and his jaw tightened as his face flushed a dull purple. Was it anger at his predicament? 

“I’m very sorry about this, Miss Michi,” he gurgled apologetically, as the last of his quirk bubbled from his mouth into a viscous oil that was spat out onto Michiko’s face.

With a shout of surprise, Michiko’s grip loosened enough for the slick oils still coating Jetsam’s arms to allow him to escape her grasp. Vision impared by the pollution covering her forehead and dripping into her eyes and nose, Michiko was unable to dodge the hefty push against her chest as Jetsam scrambled away from her touch, getting onto his feet. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for his quirk to return in full force.

“Again, words cannot express how sorry I am for doing that.” Jetsam called out to her, although his speech was hard to make out with the thick pollutants leaking from his mouth.

Michiko shot up from the floor, furiously wiping at her face to clear it of the oil. Once her vision returned, she turned to face Jetsam. The two ran at each other, trading blows and each trying to grapple the other into submission. The build-up of tar and oils worked as a double edged sword; Jetsam easily slipped from Michi’s grasp, but she also used that to her advantage to slide out of the way of his attacks. 

Then, there it was: that single, gleaming moment where Michiko could see the exhaustion, see Jetsam’s attention waning as the fight dragged on for just a bit too long. Right there! He was right by the boundary line, and had miscalculated a move that left him off-balance and vulnerable.

‘Sorry Jetsam,’ Michiko thought as she built momentum for her final blow, ‘but I am grateful for this amazing fight!’

Just as her victorious punch was about to make contact with Jetsam’s awaiting back, she felt herself freeze, involuntarily. Her arm was stuck in position, unable to move. She tried shifting her feet, but to no avail. Her whole body was frozen in place, like some sort of statue!

After a brief moment of panic, Michiko quickly realized what was happening. The tar. The tar Jetsam had been producing. He had mixed it with all the other pollutants as they fought, and as she was coated throughout the battle, the tar was turning thicker and thicker, until it encased her whole body into a stiff, immovable statue. 

She struggled, trying to thrash her way out of the viscous black coffin, but to no avail. She could no longer continue fighting. She had lost. 

The crowd burst into cheers and jeers as they realized that the match had been settled, the announcer calling out “AND THE WINNER IS, JETSAM KISA!”

As soon as the decision was announced, Michiko felt the tar slide off her body, like showering off a thick coating of muck, until only black stains remained on her body and clothing.

Jetsam sheepishly looked over at her, hand anxiously scratching at the back of his neck.

“So… that was really, really gross. I’m so sorry. But you were incredible! You almost had me so many times!!” Jetsam babbled out, getting more and more flustered as he continued. “I understand if you’re upset, but we promised we wouldn’t hold back and-”

“That was a great match! I had such a good time, and you really tested out my limits!” Michiko interrupted, smiled brightly at him as she held out her hand for him to shake. “But I’m warning you, next time I’ll be the one to come out on top!”

Jetsam smiled softly as he took her hand and reciprocated the shake.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[amarimaryllis]

I Liked You So Much, We Lost It (Iwaizumi x Reader)

Pairing: Iwaizumi/Reader

Prompt/Summary: You and Iwaizumi are so in love with each other that the only way the universe can separate you both is to put 8,577 kilometers worth of land and sea between the two of you (spoiler: the universe actually does put 8,577 kilometers worth of land and sea between the two of you).

Tags: Fluff, Angst

Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader, Lots of timeskips, Inspired by Ysabelle’s “I Liked You So Much, We Lost It”, Sequel to “I Like You So Much, You’ll Know It” but can be read as a standalone fic

Warnings: Angst, Very Slight Manga Spoilers, Slight Canon Divergence (you won’t even notice it if you don’t read into it so let’s shhhh, I mean this entire fanfic is a canon divergence but let’s not 😌)

Almost everyone in Aoba Johsai knew that you and Iwaizumi were together. So many people had invested themselves in the friends to lovers situation that you guys had that it was impossible for them to not find out that you guys were finally together. Nearly three years of you guys just tip-toeing around each other and it finally paid off.

You guys were practically inseparable since the day that Iwaizumi brought you to the convenience store to shelter yourselves from the rain. If one was to see either of you, it was sure that the other would come around eventually. You guys were so deeply in love with each other that nothing could separate you. However, months had passed, and in a few weeks, it would be time for you all to graduate. You never really knew what Iwaizumi’s plans were after Seijoh. You just trusted that everything would fall into place as it always did.

“Hajime, why are you avoiding my gaze?” You pout from the floor of his bedroom, sitting with your legs crossed as you basked in the warmth that his hoodie brought.

Iwaizumi looks up from his work to give you a small smile. “You look too cute in my jacket.”

“And?” You blush slightly, but you don’t let him fully change the topic.

“It’s distracting, and I have this final project to finish.” Iwaizumi turns to look back at the paper.

“Project? Didn’t we finish them all last week?” You raise a brow, trying to take a look at the paper before Iwaizumi hastily pulls it away from your view. “Hey, Hajime… What is that?”

“It’s nothing.” Iwaizumi’s body is tense, avoiding your gaze as he fiddles with the pen.

“Okay.” You can feel your heart beating quicker. Worry filled your veins, but you try to tell yourself that you’re probably just overreacting. “I trust you.”

Iwaizumi sighs before he stands up and goes to your side. He plops behind you, pulling you in between his legs before he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’m gonna miss this.”

You smile at his touch, closing your eyes to bask in the warmth that he emits before his words sink. “You’re talking as if I’m gonna be leaving.”

You giggle lightly before you turn around and wrap your arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, pressing your forehead onto his. “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

Iwaizumi looks conflicted as he stares into your eyes, his grip on your waist getting tighter with each passing second. You can see his eyes swirl with a million different things, and it scares you. What was it that had him acting like this?

“Hajime—“

Iwaizumi cuts you off with a kiss.

It’s desperate. The way his lips move against yours, searching for something, longing for something. His lips were soft against yours, but the emotions you could feel swirling inside him made his movements hasty and thoughtless. It was like he was trying to forget something, erasing whatever it was that ate him up on the inside as he deepened the kiss.

He pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe before he’s hoisting you up and dropping you on his bed, hovering on top of you as he gazes into your eyes.

His eyes were teary, and this prompts you to speak. “Hajime what’s wrong?”

Iwaizumi drops to your side on the bed before he pulls you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you. “Promise me.”

“Promise you what?” The serious tone laced in Iwaizumi’s words makes your heart beat quicker, the fear of something—you didn’t know what exactly made you feel afraid at that moment—settling itself deep into your chest. “Hajime, what’s going on?”

“Promise me you’ll stay with me.” Iwaizumi whispers, his arms wrapping tighter around you as if he was afraid that you were going to disappear. “Please.”

“I promise.” You grab Iwaizumi’s cheeks with your hand before you press a quick peck on his lips. “Now tell me what’s going on. You seem so stressed lately, and it’s kind of making me worried.”

“I’m…” Iwaizumi’s voice is strained as if the words stuck in his throat were laced with thorns that wound him as he struggles to let it out. “I’m gonna study Sports Sciences.”

You giggle lightly. “Why are you worried? You’re gonna do great—“

“In California.” Iwaizumi whispers, but you hear it nonetheless.

It doesn’t sink in. You don’t want it to. As the anchors of that statement plunge deeper into the ocean of your system, the currents that try to keep you alive raise themselves to fight against the weight of the anchors. It’s futile, the waves of emotions, thoughts rage until they’re slowly drowning you in the uncertainty of your future. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” Iwaizumi sits up, which in turn makes you sit up as well. “No. I’m just… I don’t want to lose you just because I’m leaving.”

“Then why are you so stressed?” You could feel your eyes well up with relief, but no matter how much you look on the bright side, there’s still that gnawing feeling in your stomach. “You’re not losing me unless you break up with me, idiot.”

“Hey, don’t cry.” Iwaizumi pouts lightly at you, making you laugh at the way he looked. He smiles, his heart swelling as he sees you laugh. “Are you sure you’re okay with it? I’m gonna be all the way in California. The timezones won’t match. I’ll be busy on some days. I won’t be here to hug you or kiss you. Which is pretty damn unfortunate cause I really like kissing you—“

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” Iwaizumi stops when he hears you call his name while grabbing his cheeks.

“Yes, love?” Iwaizumi responds immediately. It was as if months of being with you had trained him to do so when you called out his full name.

“I love you, and kilometers of land and sea isn’t gonna change that.” You smile before pressing a kiss on his lips. “Stop worrying.”

“Do that again.” Iwaizumi says as he eyes your lips.

“Do what?” You decide to tease him, acting as if you didn’t know that he wanted another kiss.

“Y/N.” He groans as he glares at you playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“But I don’t.” You have a shit-eating grin on your face.

“Fine, be like that.” Iwaizumi huffs before he pulls you for another kiss.

You can feel him smile against your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

That was 10 months ago. Iwaizumi left in July, making it a total of six months that you haven’t seen him in person. The first month went off without a hitch. Video chats every day, messages shared regardless of the other’s time zone, and other methods of communication were used just so you guys felt like you were still there with each other in person. Unfortunately, it didn’t go that well.

If you were to describe what happened, you would say that you could compare it to a candle. It burns brightly at first before it slowly melts the way and the candle comes crashing down, snuffing out its flame with its own wax. Each month that passed was a step closer to the end that you both desperately tried to ignore.

You laid in your bed, snuggled into your blankets as you tried to seek warmth. The jacket that Iwaizumi gave you that you wore provided no warmth. It may have eased the cold that the rain brought, but it did nothing to ease the winter that stormed within your chest. Despite the bitter cold, you held on. After all, every winter has to end, right?

You frowned as you looked at one of the pictures that Iwaizumi was tagged in. A blonde girl with her arm around his shoulder, and Iwaizumi with a bright smile. The kind of smile he used to wear in pictures with you.

You could feel anger in your veins, jealousy mingling with it as it brought your blood to a light simmer. You were being unreasonable, you knew that, but six months without Iwaizumi was getting to you, and seeing some other girl doing what you desperately wanted to, but not being able to, made an envious feeling grow in your chest. It didn’t help that she wore the jacket you knew all too well: A jacket you gave Iwaizumi before he left for California. Your eyes teared up at the fact.

You shut your phone and your eyes, ready to turn in for the night before the familiar ringtone fills your ears. You wait. You don’t answer immediately. You let the phone ring a bit more. Your irrational side coming out to play as you hoped that maybe Iwaizumi would feel just as cold as you if you answered him later than you usually did.

You pick up.

“Good morning, love.” Iwaizumi’s face pops up on your skin, a bright smile on his face as the beginnings of the morning sun kiss his skin. The background was moving, and the camera was unstable, which meant that Iwaizumi was probably walking to his class somewhere, “I’m sorry for calling at this time. It’s probably late there but I missed— Wait, are you okay? You look like you just cried.”

You saw that Iwaizumi had stopped walking, the background behind him as stagnant as the words stuck in your throat.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” Iwaizumi furrows his brows. “Talk to me.”

You begin to speak. “I don’t think—“

The lightning strikes outside, and a bright flash fills your room. You laughed bitterly in your head, perhaps it was a warning from the universe.

You change your approach. “In the hundred different futures you imagined… In the Dateko game…”

You struggle to find your words.

Iwaizumi smiles, but it looks quite forced to you. “The hundred different futures I imagined with you when you cheered for me in the Dateko game?”

“Yeah.” You almost feel guilty as you finalize the words you’re about to say in your head.

“What about those?” Iwaizumi asks, ever the patient and understanding boyfriend he was, but you could see it. The glint in his eyes that he had whenever he wanted to finish something. The look he had in his eyes whenever he just wanted to get things over with like they were some sort of… Inconvenience.

“Did you...” You shift in your bed, second-guessing your words as you sit up and fiddle with the hem of Iwaizumi’s jacket. “Was there a future that went like this?”

“Like this?” Iwaizumi looks confused. “Where I call you in the middle of a street? Not really? That’s too specific, honestly.” He chuckles and your heart sinks.

“No, not that.” You say solemnly. “A future where we don’t work.”

“What?” Iwaizumi looks stunned, and for a second, your heart races at the sight of him looking as he did before… Before he went to California. “What do you mean? Y/N?”

“I just—“

“HAJIME!” You could hear a woman’s voice on the other side. Years of learning English made sure that you understood what she said without a problem “Ready to go?”

Iwaizumi looks away from you as he turns to the source, a smile painting his face. “Of course, just give me a second.”

Your heart sinks in realization.

That’s how he smiled at you in the past.

“I’m gonna go.” You choke out as tears flow down your cheeks. “Have a good day, Iwaizumi-san.”

You shut the phone.

You cry. You didn’t need to hear it fall from Iwaizumi’s lips. You didn’t need to have it confirmed. You knew him like the back of your hand, and you knew that he had feelings for that girl, whoever the hell she was. You knew that he probably only kept you because he didn’t want to hurt you. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you anymore. He probably did, it’s just that he found someone who was… There. Someone who wasn’t in a different place. Someone he could hug anytime he wanted to. It’s unfortunate that it wasn’t you, but maybe you should’ve seen it coming.

So you let go, and it was timely. What started underneath the rain, ended under it. The warmth of the first confession was washed away by the droplets, leaving nothing but the cold to soak deep into your system as you sobbed into your bed, hastily pulling the jacket off of your frame.

You make sure that Iwaizumi never gets to contact you. You had left him a message: a cruel “I’m breaking up with you, I’m sorry,” and nothing more. Maybe that would hurt him enough to make him feel less guilty about making moves on the other girl. You knew it was stupid to just leave him like that, but you just wanted it to stop. You hated the feeling of uncertainty. You hated the feeling of not being able to do anything. If you had to hurt yourself in the process of finding your peace of mind, then so be it.

Years pass and you’ve graduated. You’ve moved on. It wasn’t an easy process, but you pulled through. There were moments you just so wanted to desperately call Iwaizumi and crawl back into his arms, apologizing and all, but you stop yourself each time. You cut off all contact with him, you weren’t going to waste that. However, you knew that no matter how moved on you are, some part of you will always love him… And that’s okay. You’re okay. That’s the only thing that mattered.

Currently, you were in a convenience store, grabbing a quick snack before you went to the stadium to watch the volleyball match with Oikawa, who arrived from Argentina a few days back and wanted to meet up. The setter was probably looking for milkbread in one of the aisles, so you took your sweet time in picking a drink and snack because the setter would probably be shocked by the new variety of milkbread choices that popped up while he was still in Argentina.

Your phone buzzes.

Flatass: I’m at the table near the back, slowpoke. Get your ass here.

You roll your eyes with a grin before you text back.

You: You’re just jealous I have more ass than you.

You don’t get a reply. You shrug and pay for your items before you walk to the back of the store to eat with Oikawa.

“Oikawa—“ You stop at the sight.

Instead of Oikawa on the chair, it was Iwaizumi, still as handsome as he was years ago.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi smiles. “Do you mind if I watch with you guys? Oikawa had an extra ticket and who was I to decline—“

“I don’t mind.” You smile, nothing but happiness filling your chest as you reunite with an old friend.

A/N: I like to pretend that this part of the storyline doesn’t exist 💖. Also, this was written before Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer was a thing so please excuse the ending.

[socratoteles]

A year to get Ph.D in letting go

The last time I was here, I wrote that perhaps it was time for me to go out and just enjoy the world. And amid the global pandemic, I sort of managed to do that. It was such a lifesaver in a year of goodbyes. I`ll get to that, but let me begin with my coronavirus scare.

On March 4 last year, I was away in Bandung, aware but not worried of some obscure virus that triggered a total lockdown in some Chinese cities. That very same day was also the time when my colleagues came in contact with a man who later confirmed of having contracted COVID-19.

That was how close I was of contracting the virus. Had I not taken a paid leave to write last year’s essay in the city where I was born, chances were high that I was another case as well, at that early stage of the pandemic too. I`m still familiar with the helplessness that came after I checked in to a hospital only to being denied the test (the nurse reasoned that the contact with my colleagues, who might catch the virus from the confirmed man, cannot be categorized as close contact).

And that experience, of confusion and fear of infecting loved ones, left a lasting impression that shaped my behavior going forward. After all, it takes a pandemic to make wearing mask and washing hands could made the difference between life and death.

Covid-induced isolation meant that I spent most of my time being holed up in my room for the past 12 months. To this day the side effects of this solitary existence is still beyond my full grasp. On one hand, this situation had brought out my inner resiliency, resourcefulness and adaptability in the long days and night when things were just so dark. On the other hand, it also forced me to deal with unresolved traumas and numerous intrusive thoughts, which I will get into later.

People get really creative during the long locked-down days, spending it doing viral social media challenges one after the other. Videoconferencing become a thing on its own and for some reason loads of folks played a game named Among Us too, perhaps to remind themselves of the interactions cruelly torn apart because of the virus.

There was also a newfound awareness on class too, because the coronavirus disproportionately affected different individuals with different income level. At least on my part, I was lucky that essential workers (the pandemic elevated the phrase into such a buzzword) near my place were safe and somehow never contracted the virus. It is worth mentioning that I definitely cannot survive this long if not for the minimarket workers, ride-hailing drivers and dozens of cooks, all of whom must have worked in long hours, despite knowing the risk, just to keep their families fed.

Others, however, were not so lucky. the SARS-CoV-2 had infected more than a million Indonesians a year after it was officially detected in these shores. Millions have lost their jobs as economic activities ground to a halt. The place I currently work was not an exception. Massive layoffs would have happened in my office had the shareholders have enough money to properly compensate their workers.

It was an obviously eye-opening experience to calculate my own severance pay and make sure I could survive on that for as long as possible. The prospect of losing your income during the pandemic –which should be that particular time for anyone to hold on to their what-ifs money– was really awful.

This is the paragraph where I say that I wish nothing but the best for those who left the company simply because they deserve nothing less than that.

But there was another reason why I signed up for a help from professional therapist last year. In the latter part of last year, things got very, very grim. At the risk of oversimplification, let’s just say that I was unable to express my feelings properly to a girl that I really liked, right at the most critical moment when probably both of us needed support from each other. She eventually left with another guy.

Days before that fateful event happened, I was quietly bearing my own burden. After years of convincing myself that I was okay, I was, in fact, not okay, at least mentally. Years of trauma have caught up. It’s too personal to even spell that out here but I`ll just quote this Youtuber just to describe a fitting metaphor. 

“You see, human identity is like a house of card. One that’s always expanding. A story that is ever developing and always referred back to because every memory becomes a new card. Trauma is when a card doesn’t fit because the experience itself is so painful that it’s incompatible with everything else and if you become obsessed with making it fit the whole house of cards can fall apart and you lose the confidence to build anything new.”

Basically, my house of cards came crashing down, hard. At a time, it reduced me into this insecure soul who were unsure that people will accept me for who I was.

The last time I felt this way was a couple years back when my parent’s divorce was formalized. A girlfriend turned ex-girlfriend at that time too. Apparently, the universe has a cruel sense of timing to combine existential crisis with a relationship one.

The road to recovery was rocky, to say the least. I know something fundamental must be addressed, hence the therapy session.

I`m grateful for the company of my friends, either offline or online. (yes, I had become quite loose in terms of isolation because I know I had to prioritize my mental health; COVID-19 be damned). I`m also glad to say that because I talked with my friends about this issue, some of them were also encouraged to seek professional help.

At the height of my despair, I watched La Grande Bellezza (probably for a half a dozen time already) again and found this quote, spoken by the protagonist Jep Gambardella:

“We’re all on the brink of despair. We can only look each other in the face, keep each other company, kid each other a bit. Don’t you agree?”

Someone was kind enough to upload the entire scene on Youtube.

I decided that all bets are off, so I purchased books, many of which had been on my to-read list for years because I know I`ll have to read it when I search for a catharsis. That was how I finally read the Camus’ Myth of Sisyphus, from which I managed to understand what he meant by the absurdities of life. Into the Wild, excellently written by Jon Krakauer, broke my heart too because of Chris Mccandles’ tales somehow mimicked my own, minus the grand adventure part. I finally read Alan Watts too, from whom I learned that efforts to avoid from pain is painful in itself.

And music, a constant part of my life as I know it, helps too. I was saved because Fleet Foxes released a life-affirming record that fittingly spoke about relief, gratitude, and seasonal rebirth. During the darkest days I was just alone with my guitar in my room, terribly singing out the words that these musicians carved out of their soul to release my emotional burden. I was particularly grateful for being reminded time and again that “no one gets it right” but “we’re all supposed to try”.

I made a playlist containing songs that for me served as a reminder to be gentle for myself. You can check that here.

All of that was a roundabout way to say that I indeed, was able to go out amid the pandemic. On one afternoon I just said fuck it, I need to go out and see things. That led me to a weekly socially-distanced walk around the neighborhood, which was therapeutic in itself because the walks allowed me to be fully present and be sensitive to the sights and sounds and smells around me. Nothing is more liberating that allowing your feet to go where it you to go.

I don’t have the full answers yet, but as I wrote his essay, I`m glad to be able to say that I have rebuild my house of cards, with some of the bad cards included as well. It was quite a bumpy ride but when I looked back, this particular tweet was eerily prescient because it rings true today as was the day I tweeted it.

But I walked away from the depths of that bottomless pit not only with knowledge, but also of understanding the parts that made me who I am. I`m also humbled after I saw the abyss for the second time because it suggests that there might be another time when I found myself on the edge of despair.

I`ll never forget the fact that these hard-won lessons came on the back of years of pain, grief and suffering. But it also came on the heels of moments of simple walk in the setting sun and feeling the breeze on the beach too. In fact, I have made it my mission going forward to acknowledge both good and bad things as they are. Because forcing yourself to remember all the bright things when you were in the dark, and vice versa, is a form of self-torture. I hope this essay somehow do that mission justice.

I have said goodbyes to many things in life as the crisis comes and goes, but 2020 goodbyes were simply different. So much so that I thought I have a PhD in letting go already, however absurd that idea is.

[svnthxsense]

— husband!jaehyun / businessman!jaehyun x reader | ‘tis the season | 1.9k words | angst, fluff

Marriage isn’t easy. Everyone is aware of this fact. There are times when you feel so much love for your spouse that it hurts. There are also times when you question the health of your relationship. Right now is one of those times.

You try your hardest to be understanding of Jaehyun’s hectic schedule. After all, being a global business administrator in itself calls for a jam-packed itinerary. There were multiple date nights that had to be rescheduled, multiple events that the two of you couldn’t attend. All of that came with him, and you were okay with that for the most part. However, what you weren’t okay with was his company scheduling him for days worth of meetings during Christmas.

“I’m sorry, baby. You know how they are, they don’t have mercy for the holidays,” He attempts to joke lightheartedly, but you continue to stare blankly at the floor. A twinge of irritation courses through your veins, believing his comment was insinuating that you should roll over and accept this. While the logically thinking part of your brain knows he’d never say that, the other part wonders if you’ve been too understanding.

“Did you even try to change their minds?” You ask quietly, toying with the furry blanket on your lap. Christmas Eve was always split between your family and his- his in the afternoon and yours in the evening. Christmas Day was always just the two of you at home, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa.

“Well, no... Not exactly. I’m not really sure?” His eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, confused as to what you want to hear from him. Honestly, you’re not quite sure what you want to hear either. All you know is that you’re willing to compromise with a lot of his schedule changes, but Christmas isn’t something you want to have to settle on. It’s supposed to be a time for not only you two  but time with your families as well.

“Forget it then.”

“Babe, I’m really sorry. I’m not sure what you want me to do, though. This is my job,” He reminds you with a slightly warning tone. Both of you are becoming more frustrated with each other, but you’re not sure how to communicate that you’re tired of settling on everything. It comes to a point where you feel like he expects you to compromise every time- and that’s what angers you.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, simply wishes for you to stop being angry with him. The stress of the upcoming year and meetings with the board of directors is enough to have him on edge the majority of his day, but at home, he’s usually rid of that negative mindset. You always picked him back up, so it’s a foreign feeling when you become angry with him. Especially about work.

“Yeah, it’s whatever. Have a good day at work,” You quip, pressing an empty kiss to his cheek and trudging back to your shared bedroom in silence. Jaehyun’s gaze lingers on your figure walking away from him, his heart practically in his stomach while his entire body heats in frustration. With a huffed-out breath, he stands to adjust his tie and smooth over his suit before picking up his briefcase and slamming the apartment door shut.

‘Tense’ couldn’t even begin to describe your current situation with Jaehyun. It’s been a repeating cycle all week, cold conversation and short-lived affection. Sure, it made your heart hurt when you’d roll over in bed to see Jaehyun, back towards you in his walk-in closet tugging his tie off and carding one hand through his hair. You can see in the way his shoulders tense with every movement- he was tired. Then he’d crawl into bed, leaving a lingering hand over yours before turning his back to you.

It’s the day of Christmas Eve, and you’re anticipating the worried questions from your in-laws. Jaehyun, up to this point, has never missed a Christmas Eve lunch at the Jung residence and you had never attended the lunch without him by your side. His parents live on the other side of the city, so while you’re driving through town you decide to leave your gift at Jaehyun’s desk. Despite how tense things may be, you miss him more than you ever have.

You’re certain that he’s on his usual lunch break down in the building’s cafeteria when you sneak into the elevator and ascend to the designated floor for administrators. His secretary greets you warmly, happily opening his office door for you. His office is quite spacious but it lacks the pleasant workplace vibe that you believe everyone should have. The room has a minimal black and white color scheme, his clear glass desk sitting in the middle of the room with the nameplate that reads Jung Jaehyun - Global Business Administrator.

Your fingers run over the engraved lettering fondly, knowing just how hard he worked to become what he is now. So much diligent work went into obtaining his degree, and he was set on this particular company from the moment he met Taeyong, his coworker who spoke so highly of the company. Jaehyun is good at what he does- it’s how he moved up in rank so quickly. Promotion after promotion, he always strived to outdo himself and others.

The grandfather clock that sits in one corner of the room reveals that his lunch break is ending soon, so you place the blue velvet box down in the middle of his desk. Tucking the card neatly under one corner of the box, you give his desk one more look to make sure you hadn’t moved anything out of place. Adjacent to his computer is a framed photo of you two. He’s always favored your engagement photoshoot over your wedding, and you can see why. Both of you look so damn happy, it’s almost as if the emotion radiates from the picture itself.

In the photo, he has his arms wrapped around you, his head placed delicately on your shoulder as he looks over at you to the best of his ability. You stare into the camera, a wide smile on full display with your hands over Jaehyun’s. An enchanting six-carat engagement ring sits on your ring finger proudly and you grin at the memory. Though you keep that one hidden in your closet in favor of your wedding band, you miss the feeling of pure elation knowing that you were going to marry the love of your life.

The joyous feelings still resonate with you when you exit his office, shutting the door quietly and making your way back to your car. Nostalgia fills the air as you click your seatbelt in, revving the engine alive and pulling out of the parking lot. A few years ago, you two were the overjoyed couple in that picture. All you want is for that to come back.

Jaehyun plods into his office, his shoulders feeling much too heavy. Then his eyes meet a navy blue box in the center of his desk. Subconsciously, his eyes crinkle with a smile when he reads the label on the card- ‘My Love.’ Settling into his office chair, he inches closer to his desk and takes the box and card into his hands. His heart swells a bit before even opening it, not expecting a gift from you especially with how things have been.

Tears well in his eyes when he opens the box, seeing the same watch his dad had given him when he graduated high school. He had lost it on a business trip, the jam-packed traveling schedule making him all too forgetful. He recalls being heartbroken over losing it, one of the few sentimental pieces he holds close to his heart.

When he opens the note, the tears fall freely from his eyes. He attempts to wipe them with the backside of his hand, but they continue to fall after numerous attempts. As he reads through your letter, crying and smiling all at once, he wants nothing more than to come home to you and kiss you like it’s your first time. He desperately wants to relive all of the cherished memories he has with you- one of them being your Christmas traditions.

And so he does.

“Y/N! Where’s my son-in-law?” Your mom asks brightly, and you can immediately tell she’s had enough wine for the night. She doesn’t relent, though, plopping down in her seat at the dinner table and looking at you expectingly.

“He sends his apologies, they had a lot of last-minute meetings at work.” You try your hardest to mask any sadness and you assume it worked because no one asks questions. Dinner is similar to your lunch with his family, you take a backseat in the conversation and getting lost in your own thoughts as you chew on your food mindlessly. The buzz of your phone snaps you out of your daze, seeing a notification from Jaehyun pop up on the screen.

[6:46pm] Jaehyun: I’m outside. Let’s talk?

Your brows furrow at the random text message, wondering how he managed to finish with work. Nonetheless, the excitement that bubbles in your stomach at the thought of him being here is enough motivation for you to lazily throw on your coat and mumble that you need some fresh air. Your family doesn’t question you as you brace yourself for the bitter cold. The wind has picked up since you first came, the cool night breeze having moved in as the sun has long descended from your sight.

Jaehyun stands next to his beloved Mercedes Benz, one of the first big purchases he made after joining the company. The ball of his nose is flushed pink, his hands tucked securely into his coat pockets. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees you, his hands falling from his pockets as he rushes over to your standing figure.

“What are you doing here-” The rest of your question is muffled by his lips, a silent plea for your touch that you refuse to deny. It feels like forever since you’ve last kissed Jaehyun like this, especially in light of the week’s events. The kiss is slow-paced, every ounce of passion he has is in this one kiss. You can tell by the way his hands firmly hold your face and how his eyes are shut, unmoving. There’s not a hint of impatience as both of you melt into each other.

“I love you. So, so much.” He only breaks away so he can mumble these words to you, his glossy eyes boring into yours. He’s still holding your face as if he’s worried you’ll pull away from his grasp. “I left work as soon as I read your card. I’m sorry for this whole stupid argument.”

He repeats ‘I’m sorry,’ as he kisses all over your face, starting from your lips and working his way around. You groan in annoyance, attempting to push him away only for him to force himself closer. By now, the two of you are smiling like fools despite the brutally chilly weather.

“Thank you for the watch, by the way. I may have cried at my desk,” Jaehyun admits shyly, his dimples becoming more prominent the wider his grin gets. You smile back, gently moving his fringe away from his eyes.

“You’re welcome, my love.”

“Okay, let’s get inside before your mom drinks any more wine.”

[deathduty]

Sew What || Deirdre & Irene

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Sew La Ti Do PARTIES: @threadofheart & @deathduty (special mentions to Angela Lansbury) SUMMARY: Deirdre strips. Irene does her job and nothing more. They both do what they know best.

Deirdre never considered herself to be a sentimental person. Yet, with her dress torn up the side, she found herself more willing to find the nearest tailor than to get a new one. She’d had the thing since moving to White Crest, and was certain at that moment that no other dress could make her look as good. More than that, though, she had things to do. Places to be. As much as she liked being nude, a torn up dress simply wasn’t acceptable. If she could just get the thing stitched up, however crude, she’d be on her way. “Hello?” The banshee called out, poking her head around the shop, trying to find someone to assist her. “I need–“ and at that moment, as someone emerged, Deirdre waved them down. “Do you work here? I need some help,” Deirdre pointed to the tear in her dress. “Just something to make it presentable enough. Can you do that?” 

Irene sat at her computer, finishing up some paperwork for a few of her orders, when she heard the front door of her shop open. Quickly getting up, she walked out to greet whoever it was and spotted a new face. “Hello, yes, how can I help you?” she responded as she made her way to the front counter. It would be one thing to assume that this person was looking to get something fixed, but Irene had encountered a fair number of strange asks (like “Where’s the closest Pizza Hut?” and Irene had to bite her tongue to not inform them that she was not a map). At the question, Irene leaned forward and noticed the tear on the dress. Her brow furrowed as she studied it before she stood back up. “I can definitely get that properly sewn back together for you. Uh when would you need this by and, perchance, are you… um are you dropping off the dress right now?”

“Right now.” Deirdre said, twisting around to reach the zipper. “And I’ll wait; I can wait. I just need this done immediately.” Getting the dress half off, dangling from her bare shoulders, Deirdre considered that maybe stripping inside a store was not acceptable conduct in human society. It was fortunate then, that she didn’t care about human society. “Here,” she handed the dress off, standing about in her underwear. “Do you mind if I watch you work? I’d be bored otherwise.” Deirdre’s smile was wide, her best attempt at being friendly. The last tailor she had gone to, she murdered. Of course, because he was going to die anyway, but murdered all the same. This tailor was, however, much prettier than the last. And she wasn’t a murderer anymore. For now, anyway. “That won’t be a problem, will it?” She beamed, “I’ll pay double. Triple, even. And I am very pleasant to look at.” 

“Wait!” Irene immediately held her hands up before the customer fully stripped right in her shop. She blushed slightly when half of it was already off as the seamstress walked to her desk and grabbed her long coat. “I-I don’t have any spare clothing in the shop right now other than this.” Her arm stretched out, offering it over as she averted her own gaze while her other hand reached for the dress. The moment her fingers found purchase with it, Irene noted that the material was quite nice and thankfully was something she had worked with before. “Oh, um, of course that’s no problem.” Normally, she would have politely informed her customers that she would need at least a day to complete something like this but this didn’t seem too difficult. And the prospect of being paid extra for this wasn’t unalluring… “Feel free to take a seat,” she finally decided with a small smile. Setting the dress down on her counter, Irene quickly began looking for the tear. “As much as that may be true, I’m afraid I can’t look back at you while I fix up your dress,” she indicated with a light tone as she began to pull out some tools from her cabinets. And she had been so caught up in this sudden exchange that only when Irene began to get to work did she realize that she was picking up some strange emotions from the woman. Not strange in the sense that it wasn’t reflective of the scenario but… dulled? Her brow knitted and she tried to shake it off. The last thing she needed was to mess up the dress in front of an audience.

“Oh no, I like being naked.” Deirdre tried to explain, but with a sigh, she took the coat offered and put it on. Humans could be such prudes. This human was fixing her dress though, and so she figured she might as well cover up. Though, at mention of taking a seat, despite knowing exactly what the tailor meant, she hoisted herself on the counter and took her seat there. “A tree branch got me, you know,” she said, offering an explanation for the tear. She smiled wide. A tree branch did not get her. It was, rather, the hand of a dying man, who’d managed to claw at her dress before she could leave. “I’m Deirdre,” she said, insisting on being a nuisance. “Why tailoring? It certainly can’t pay well, and it seems like such an unappreciated art…” 

Irene managed a stiff smile in response to the woman’s comment about being naked, but the seamstress really did not want to explain having a naked person in her shop should anyone pass by her windows. A sigh of relief escaped her when the woman took the coat, though tension twisted her stomach once more when she noticed the guest hoist herself up onto her worktable. “Please be careful of the pins and other uh sharp objects on the counter,” she offered tersely as her hands continued to address the garment. “A tree branch… sounds dangerous. If you need any first aid, I have a kit in the back room I can grab.” Irene wasn’t certain she believed that especially as she picked up a dull feeling of smugness that seemed to emanate from the woman. Or perhaps she was really proud to be struck by a tree; Irene was not one to judge. “Lovely to meet you, Deirdre. I’m Irene,” her response flowed automatically from her lips. It was certainly taking a bit of effort for the seamstress to hold her tongue. “It’s actually a family business so I inherited the skills when I was old enough,” she briefly explained.

Deirdre watched the seamstress work, doubtlessly skilled in her work. Her great-grandmother had taught her to sew, still enraptured by the idea that a proper lady must know how to embroider, but she’d only ever enjoyed the feeling of sticking the needle through. “Oh no, I’m okay, you should've seen the tree though, Irene,” she smiled at her own joke, leaning into the woman’s work. It looked boring to her, but there was something about the ability to mend that always caught her attention; weapons never could learn to heal. “Like a duty?” She leaned back, “like some obligation to run this shop? Do you enjoy your work?” Deirdre watched the woman some more, graceful fingers finding what they wanted with ease. “I guess I’m in something of a family business myself…” she trailed off, looking out the shop window at the people passing by, living their own obligations. “But of all the things…” She turned back to Irene, “you’re not one of those people that wish to be a fashion designer, are you?” Not that there was anything wrong with that. 

Having an audience while she worked normally wouldn’t distract her, but Irene found herself a little on edge with this woman, probably because she had initially wanted to stand around the shop naked. “Poor tree couldn’t put up much of a fight? What did it do to deserve such ire from you?” she replied with a small chuckle as she tried to imagine such a scene. Her mental image came up with something rather absurd and cartoonish, causing her to let out another quiet laugh. Irene paused, both to check on the progress of her sewing and also to consider the questions. “It was an obligation and now it’s what I know best. I enjoy it as much as one can enjoy their work I suppose. There are good days and bad ones.” Her fingers deftly finished up what she was able to hand-sew before she got up to move to her sewing machine. “Fashion designer? It’s something that’s crossed my mind a few times but it’s not a particular passion of mine. I do have a lot of respect for designers though. The pressure to constantly create something new or avant-garde that hasn’t already been created, I can’t begin to imagine it.”

“Oh, you know how it goes, it looked at me the wrong way…” Deirdre trailed off, grinning toothy and lopsided. She had started the process of trying to think of something else to say, something to make the woman uncomfortable, when she continued. Deirdre’s grin faltered, and from her position nosing into Irene’s work, she leaned back with a frown. She was not so deluded on ideas of passion that she didn’t understand practicality, but the way the woman described it sounded…sad. Or, at best, Deirdre would unknowingly insult her. “What you know best?” She repeated, hoping Irene would correct her. “What you know best and what you enjoy are two different things.” Deirdre stared at her, completely having intended to ruin her day and yet being struck with confusion instead. “Irene,” she began, “is there some other thing you imagined you’d be doing?” She sighed, she could understand duty and she could understand obligation. She could even understand knowing something too well to not make anything of it, but like this? Deirdre stared around the shop, nose wrinkled; was it really worth it? “It’s just an odd way to word your sentence—‘what I know best’ what I know best is murd—“ Deirdre froze. “Uh,” she turned to Irene, “Mur—Murder, She Wrote! The show! Love it. It’s what I know best, but, it’s not…uh, it’s not what I imagined I’d be watching. It doesn’t satisfy my life’s hunger.” 

Irene expertly adjusted her machine, her movements second nature after years of working in this profession. As she ran the dress through the machine, she chuckled again. “I have noticed that some trees do make some devious faces.” The playful banter was easy enough to maintain as the seamstress worked, a trait she picked up early on when she had to mend her sisters’ clothes while they chattered away beside her. But then the sudden shift in tone surprised her, almost causing the woman to completely stop in her work. She swallowed hard, her lips pursing into a small smile despite her facing the machine and not her customer. “In the end, it’s all semantics,” she replied quietly before clearing her voice. There were many things she had tickled in pursuing: places she’d considered visiting or even living in, career paths she might have enjoyed, goals she’d like to achieve. “What I enjoy most is making sure my family is doing well and is safe and happy, and this happens to be the way I am able to achieve that.” The fabric slid through her fingers and past the thrumming needle of the machine. Her brow furrowed once more at the way this conversation unfolded from this curious woman. “I suppose that’s a thing about life, though, isn’t it? If Murder She Wrote doesn’t satisfy you, there are so many things out there that might do the trick.” With a satisfied sigh and a more genuine smile now, Irene finished up her repairs, snipped the loose thread from the dress, and held it up to examine. “This should be all good to go and ready for another battle with any tree that gives you the wrong impression.”

Why did it bother her? Long after Irene held the dress out, signaling the end of their little tête-à-tête, Deirdre stood and stared at her. She was dissatisfied; with Irene’s answer, her amiability and her lack of disdain at Deirdre’s general demeanor. It was spiteful. How dare the woman feign happiness in her face? It was tragic. How dare she answer honestly? And then it was pointless; why did it bother her at all? Irene was being practical, smart, safe. What could she possibly find a flaw in? Perhaps it was just that, the perceived perfectionism of the whole thing. Deirdre’s expression soured quickly. “Is that so?” Deirdre got her little inside glance at the woman, watching her words bounce right off. She had no hook, no control; friendly people disgusted her. A saccharine grin greeted Irene as Deirdre yanked the dress from her grip. “I suppose your family are all grateful. Where are they? Out back or…?” Perhaps it was the whimper of feeling blooming in her stomach; sadness, or something like it. “Aren’t you the hypocrite? Deluding yourself into thinking this satisfies you. At least Murder, She Wrote has Angela Lansbury.” From her boot, she drew out wrinkled hundred dollar bills, offering no explanation for either action. One hundred. Three hundred. Five hundred dollars, slapped down in front of Irene. “I’m taking your coat.” She announced with a huff, finding it to be the apology she deserved after Irene ruined her evening with her politeness. “And you!” she jabbed a finger at the tailor, throwing her dress over her shoulder. She stepped to leave, eager to free herself from Irene’s bullying. “If I peel back those layers of lies and professional, am I going to find a woman who fights or flees?” 

Despite the muted emotions Irene picked up from Deirdre, she managed to pick up something akin to frustration. From the very beginning, this whole exchange presented to be a challenge. Why was Deidre frustrated when she had bulldozed Irene from the moment she arrived? Her gaze flickered momentarily at the questioning, each interrogatory a sharp, yet familiar, stab. Everything Deidre was saying was not incorrect. In fact, Irene was certain her sisters would likely agree. But, unlike Deidre, Irene made peace with her own reality, a reality she had resigned herself to for quite some time. “My family--my sisters are where they wish to be.” Was that so bad? That she prioritized their happiness over hers? It was her duty, always has been her duty, to take care of the family. As the money slammed onto the table, far more than was needed to pay, Irene made no move to collect it. “I suppose you and I will find out if that happens.” Each day in White Crest forced Irene to face that question: was she here fighting for something or was she actually fleeing? She lifted her head, swallowing hard and finding it harder to maintain a professional front. It was too early in the day for her regularly scheduled existential crisis. “Well, thanks for your patronage; I hope the dress is to your liking,” were the last words, auto-piloted by habit, she managed to say as she finally reached to collect the money dispensed upon her work surface.

Deirdre reveled in the sort of annoyances she could spur in others; she desired to control their reactions to her. If she forced hate, she would beat them all to the punch. But there was a special sort of person she could never crack: those that desired to be polite, kind, friendly. Those who refused to stoop to her level. Those, much like Irene. Her grievance all along might just have been envy. If only she had half a mind to be as optimistic. “I hope for your sake,” Deirdre said as she lingered at the door, “you find out sooner rather than later, the kind of person you are.” Without so much as a thank you, she was gone, and the store fell back into the silence that didn’t know her. One day, Irene would be dead, and her legacy was her own concern. It didn’t bother Deirdre one bit. Not at all.

[detroitbydark]

Chapter 11

Characters: Fox/Mouse (reader), appearances from Hound, Thire, Rule, Mace Windu, Yoda, and Padmé Amidala.

Warning: angst (y’all want me to hirt you right?)

A/N: so get ready to read nearly 6000 words of Fox’s self loathing, the CG being supportive vod, Jedi being Jedi, and Mouse being hurt yet again.

Current

The choices had been fresh ink or gut-rot barracks hooch. Fox chose the ink.

He’s down in the levels, he can’t remember which one exactly, far enough from prying eyes and questioning vod, that was all that had really mattered. The artist, a pantoran with a nice portfolio, was busy laying out the design. He can feel the cool transfer as it’s pressed over his heart and he drags in a ragged breath. This was penance. This was the closure he needed. He’d messed up. For two weeks he’d messed up and now any chance he had was gone along with her.

“You wanna talk about it, man?” The tattoo artist asks as he peels away the flimsy leaving the outline on his skin.

“No”

Two weeks earlier

Fox hates the sterile smell of the hospital, the beige walls, the gleaming metal all around. It reminds him of Kamino and a medbay he’d spent more than enough time in. He was never quite as strong or quite as fast as the other CCs in his batch, men that would go on to bear monikers like Gree and Bly and Wolffe. He made up for it in other ways. His mind was sharp, quick to come to a plan of action, he could think on his feet.

He remembers Sargent Kal coming into the CC classroom one day for a talk on urban combat- something that had piqued CC-1010’s interest from the word go- and how by the end of the lesson he’d ended up the star of the day. His observations as they’d talked through scenarios had left Kal remarking that he was “Sly as a Fox” and that the Triple Zero would be a good place for the likes of him. He was only the second in his batch to earn a name and he wore it around like a badge of honor.

Now he didn’t feel so honorable or so sly. He felt a lot of other things though. The psych droid, a loathsome device of he'd ever seen one, had talked him through what had happened in the Supreme Chancellor’s suite. It had questioned him over and over, maybe expecting the answers to change, about what his part in the assassination of Sheev Palpatine had been. He was tired. He wanted to wrap himself around his cyar’ika and pretend the whole day had been a nightmare.

That was impossible, she was somewhere else in the hospital being treated, shoved into a bacta tank. It had only been Rex’s firm voice that had convinced Fox to let the medic’s anywhere near her. When he’d let them take her limp body away from him-

Fierfek.

The handprint- a bloody partial across the left side of his breastplate, was still there.

“Commander Fox” a familiar voice cuts through the silent world of the room“ Much to think about you have“

He recognizes the Jedi Master, Yoda, immediately. There was no one else the ancient green Jedi could be mistaken for.

“I prefer to not“ being around a force wielder was not high on Fox’s current list of things to do.

“Such Is life”

“With all due respect sir,” he can hear the petulance in his own voice but he has neither the energy nor will to rein it in “I didn’t ask for this life.”

“But given to you it was, nonetheless. Choices you must make with what to do with it.“

Fox is quiet and the small Jedi Master matches it until the door opens again and General Windu joins the pair. Fox meets his gaze and the Jedi nods solemnly.

“Much discussion Master Windu and I have had these last few hours-“

“So it’s back to Kamino then? Reconditioning or Termination?” Fox can’t hide the bitterness in his voice. He doesn’t want to. He wants the world -or at least the two Jedi in the room- to see his pain. To feel it like he was.

Yoda sighs and moves to him, walking stick clicking in time with his steps. He hops up on the cold metal table next to Fox in a way that makes Fox think that the walking stick was not really necessary. He fights the urge to move away.

“A great disservice has been done to you, Commander. No, Kamino is not where you belong, deserve punishment you do not.”

The words burn. Fox is trapped between relief and a slow simmering rage, one that demands he be punished for his inability to protect those most vulnerable. First Fives. Now Mouse. He failed because he was weak-

“Stop” General Windu’s voice is firm. The look on Fox’s face must read pure terror because the Jedi huffs softly, “I don’t need to see inside your head to know what you're thinking. It’s all over your face. Do you know the kind of power Sidious possessed? To fight off that kind of insinuation would have been nearly impossible and that was before the chip-“

“The chip?” Fox attempts to rise to his feet but three green fingers press down on his arm. He looks down at the tired, ancient face of the Jedi Master and sits back down. “What of the chip? What has it got to do in all of this?”

The answer is simple. Everything.

Fox sits in cold shock as the Jedi describe to him what they’d learned of Palpatine’s- no, Sidious’ plans for the clone army. He stops them once to go to the bathroom and vomit. It wasn’t just Tup and Fives and him. It was all his vode. The entire clone army programmed to turn on their leaders, their friends with the utterance of a single phrase. He thinks of the hints Bly had made about his Jedi when they’d last spoken.

For a moment it’s more than he can fathom, and he holds a hand up for quiet. The Jedi allow it. He gives himself a minute, just one, before he pulls himself together, before he sits up straight and pushes the anguish, hurt, and the dirty feelings deep down.

“What now?” The implications of what has happened are finally becoming clear “The Republic can’t know the truth. There’ll be chaos in the streets. They’ll turn against the clones entirely” Fox worries more for his brothers than ever before. If the citizens knew…

“Correct you are, Commander” Yoda agrees..

“It needs to stay under wraps. The only people that will ever know it was anything other than an sudden death by natural causes will be us and the others that were in that room. Skywalker, Captain Rex, and-“

“Don’t say her name” it comes out as a growl, “leave her out of this.”

“There she was, Commander. Secrets she must learn to keep.”

Fox’s nails bite into the palms of his hands, “you won’t-“ he can’t bring himself to say the words.

“We will not force thoughts into her head.” Mace clarifies. “From what I’ve heard of her I think she’ll understand our reasoning for secrecy. Her injuries will be said to come from a mugging. You’ll fill out the report. Wrong place wrong time”

Wasn’t that the truth.

Fox nods slowly, “and what of my brothers?”

“Come out the chips must.” Fox flinches when a green finger taps at his temple, “but uncomplicated and quick it is.”

“We will let it be known that the chips are faulty and to continue to use them puts the clones in danger of having unforeseen medical problems.” Mace’s eyes narrow as Fox scoffs. He raises a brow challengingly, “do you think they’d rather know that they were all ticking timebombs? That at any moment they’d be triggered into mindless killers? Pawns?”

A tense moment passes with the two men glaring at one another. Of course Fox doesn’t think that would be any better.

“We’ll begin rotating troops through the nearest medical units capable of removal immediately.” Mace explains. “We can have the entire Coruscant Guard done by the end of the week and it appears with minimal down time. A day, tops.” He explains.

A quick nod is all the acknowledgement Fox can muster. He doesn’t like the idea of keeping the Guard in the dark and he hates having them undergo any medical procedure even more. He wasn’t the only clone who had lingering emotions when it came to the medbay, not by a long shot.

“I’ll go first.”

The Jedi at his side makes an agreeable hum. General Windu nods.

“As I would expect a good leader to do.”

Fox isn’t sure how much he buys into their approval.

13 days earlier

The official story was that Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine had succumbed to a sudden illness. The holonews was ablaze with stories: from the official release to the tabloid fodder. Fellow politicians waxed poetic on him as a man and a leader, someone who stepped forward when the Republic was in its darkest hour to take control of the chaos.

It was said his last words were, “and sorry I couldn’t give more for my people and the galaxy.”

If Fox’s eyes rolled any harder he was sure they’d fly from his head and ping around in his bucket. Sidious was dead. He didn’t deserve the adoration of billions or the high honors of his burial. He was a hu’tuun. The skanah was better suited as feed for the carrion birds than the marble burial chamber he’s laid to rest in with military honors provided by clones he’d have used as weapons against the very Republic they swore to protect.

10 days earlier

Four days without Mouse and Fox feels twitchy. It’s been over a year since he’s gone more than two days without laying eyes on her. Knowing that she was recently released from the bacta tank doesn’t make it any easier. He’d not wanted to see her floating in the tank for a plethora of reasons, the least of which was his own guilt. That didn’t stop him from setting up a guard rotation at her door as soon as he was cleared to return to duty. It also didn’t stop him from demanding regular updates on her care from the kits he was setting up at her room.

Ryk had been present when she’d been taken out of the tank and said she’d seemed in good spirits as she’d slowly come too.

Wren had gently indicated that she’d love some company while she was on bed rest.

Rule had given him a look that screamed, ‘don’t be a scum sucking piece of nerf fodder.’ As he’d explained that Mous’ika had been asking for him.

She’d been asking for him. Even after everything she wanted to see him.

And he couldn’t do it.

He’d made his way twice to the nurses station before turning and making an excuse to leave.

He couldn’t look at her. Sidious’ words still swirled in his head. even though General Yoda had reassured him that he was no longer under the sway of the Sith, the thoughts still lingered.

You were supposed to use her to fuck your baser urges out.

She’s using you to obtain a foothold in the guard.

She’s fooled you all.

The underlying message was unmistakable.

Why would anyone choose to care for a clone?

Fox almost wishes the headaches would return so he could focus on the pain in his head vs. that dull empty ache in his chest, a black hole behind his rib cage, but he hasn’t had one since both the Sith Lord and the chip were removed from his life.

9 days earlier

Bail Organa is voted into the Chancellorship by an overwhelming number of his peers.

It’s the best choice, as far as Fox is concerned. With Senator Amidala announcing a leave of absence to give birth to the best guarded secret since the clone army, it’s the only choice Fox finds acceptable.

Not like anyone would ask his opinion.

Organa is a good man, even if he is a politician. He’s only ever looked out for the Republic, never given in to self indulgent whims, never taken more than he deserved.

Fox touches the fresh scar on the right side of his head gently as Holonet News continues to replay the new Chancellor's inauguration from earlier. Barely more than a week and everything has changed.

General Windu was correct, medical had been able to get through the entire guard in rapid fire. All of his men were sporting matching scars, many were more than a little curious as to the actual reason their chips had been removed. He’s both insanely proud and horribly frustrated at the theories being bandied about. Some far too close for comfort.

They can never know. Nobody can ever know.

But somehow Bail Organa knows.

He’s only had one meeting, early this morning before the inauguration, in private with the new Chancellor but he’d alluded to things that left Fox speechless. He’d known Bail to have friends in high places, but he hadn’t realized how high.

“Think he’ll do better than the last one?”

Thire hovers in the doorway, unmoving until Fox inclines his head toward the open seat across his desktop.

“Can’t be any worse.” There’s no humor in his tone but Thire huffs out a quiet laugh.

There’s a lag in the conversation, not like one has truly begun, and Fox takes a breath before setting down his datapad and flicking the holo off. “How long have we known one another?” He asks looking up at his lieutenant.

“Long enough.”

“So, you and I both know that you're here for something else and It's not just to make quips about the new Alor.”

“I suppose that’s true” Thire’s face gives nothing away. Fox liked that about the shock trooper. He was reserved, yes, but also pragmatic. A problem solver, not ruled by his emotions. Which was all well and good but something about the way he’s staring makes Fox feel like he’s the problem needing solving.

“Spit it out.”

“Go see her.”

Fox raises a brow in his vod’s direction. “Is that an order”

“Respectfully sir” the corner of Thire’s mouth quirks almost imperceptibly before it falls away.

The little shit.

In reality, Fox had known this one going to come from one of his men. He’d expected Rule or Hound, the more brash and aggressive boys, to be the ones but Thire is not a complete shock. He’d never seemed particularly close to Mouse but the lieutenant did play things close to the chest.

“She had a nightmare last night while I was on watch. Woke up crying your name.”

Inside Fox crumbles. No amount of talking to a psych droid was going to fix that feeling. No amount of time would make him feel ok about what he’d allowed to happen to the woman he loved. Thire continues.

“A clone's lot is not much. They decant us. They train us. They ship us out to fight in their war. We live, maybe. We die, more likely. Nothing is given to us.” Thire runs a hand over his head, fingers scratching at the crown. “Sometimes though, a di’kut like you gets a break. That woman in that bed cried in my arms. Talked to me like I was you for over an hour and I let her. You know why?”

Fox has to unclench his jaw, work past the jealous ache rising up in his chest to respond, “why?”

“Because it’s the closest I’ll ever have to feeling that kind of emotion. I’m not ashamed to say I pulled your girl into my lap, held her close and said soft things I didn’t even know I knew into her pretty hair until she calmed down. I was happy to pretend to be your atin’shebs but you know what the real kicker is, Vod?”

Fox’s hands are like vice grips on the edge of his seat, knuckles pale white as a shinies armor. The thought of Mouse hurting is one thing, but to have someone else be the one to comfort her? It tears at him. “What?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“When she calms down she says, “I know you're not him. Thank you for letting me pretend for a minute”.

7 days earlier

He pretends like he doesn’t know where he’s going. Like talking to the kriffing psych droid really had him so out of sorts he didn’t realize he was getting on a turbo lift and heading up three flights after his appointment.

He tries to act like he doesn’t know his feet are carrying him to the room with the familiar red and white sentinel outside the door.

Rule quirks his helmet before snapping to attention.

“Commander Fox, sir?”

“At ease Sargent.” It's late, well past visiting hours but the few sentient nurses and the droids assisting them make no move to rush him along. Perks of the armor.

Rule relaxes and glances through the small transparisteel window on the door behind him before turning back.

“She just had some medicine.” He explains, “pain was getting pretty bad again.”

Fox’s bucket hides his cringe, allowing him to outwardly remain impassive and aloof, his voice even as he asks simple questions about visitors and any possible issues arising.

“No problems here sir. I think I heard her Doc say something about discharge tomorrow. She’s doing ok” what isn’t said hangs in the air.

She’d be doing better if you were with her

“That’s good. That’s good” Fox agrees, readily avoiding the things left unspoken. “Have you been relieved for dinner?”

“I have a ration bar in my pack sir.”

“Do I need to say it?”

The sunny tone of Rule’s voice tells him everything he needs to know. He can imagine the shit eating grin that accompanies it. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean, sir?”

A quick glance up and down the hall shows nothing but gleaming white tile. No staff. No visitors. No one but Rule to bear witness to his moment of weakness.

“Take the night off Sargent. I’ll cover the watch.”

He stares at the emotionless visor for a beat waiting for his kit to argue, for him to make a smart comment.

It doesn’t happen.

Rule rolls his shoulders, stretching slightly as he makes his move past Fox. At the last second, Rule's hand shoots out, resting over Fox’s vambrace. The moment lingers without either speaking until Rule gently pulls the Commander in and knocks his bucket against Fox’s, pressing his forehead to his Commander’s.

Fox, claps a hand behind the sargents head and they sit there frozen for a moment in time, Rule offering more comfort in that one gesture than he’s felt in days. A Keldabe kiss to ease his fragile psyche.

“Alverde.” Rule offers quietly when the pair finally part.

“Sargent” Fox gives a minuscule nod. “Enjoy your night.” He watches the youngster head down the hall until he turns a corner and is gone from sight.

Fox manages to avoid looking in the room for five minutes exactly. He’s able to fight off the pull to enter it for another twenty. The draw of her is too much in the end and he finds himself slipping into her room before the first thirty minutes are even past.

The lights are low and the monitors and electronics surrounding her hum and buzz steadily. Everything is white and stark. His cyar’ika is nearly the same color as the sheet she lays under.

She looks small, and so achingly fragile Fox is afraid the weight of his look alone will break her. She shivers lightly and he lurches into motion, dragging the itchy comforter over her legs and tucking it around her shoulders. Her body stirs as his gloved hand grazes along her cheek.

He freezes as her eyes flutter open. Her pupils aren’t quite right. It seems to take her a moment to piece together what’s going on but when she does the realization that washes over her is visible.

“Fox” his name sounds like a long lost friend rolling from her lips. She struggles to sit up. A look of pain flashes across her face as she twists under the blankets.

“Stop that” he demands impotently, his gloves moving to press gently against her chest. “you’re going to hurt yourself.”

She blinks owlishly up at him in the way only a person on good pain meds can, like she doesn’t quite understand what’s been said and she’s not sure whether she should comply or question it. It’s somewhere between bemused and scared.

He cups her cheek in his hand, “easy precious girl.” He soothes. Mouse relaxes into his touch as his gloved thumb rubs softly. Her eyes flutter shut and he can feel the soft sound she makes against his palm.

This was already far past what he intended. He just wanted to see her, to prove to himself she was really alive and in one piece despite him.

Now, he finds himself already slipping into old habits.

More focused, her eyes open. Her hand slips up and grips his vambrace. Slowly she pulls his hand away from her face. She lets her fingers slip down into and through his. Her voice is thick with sleep when she speaks and Fox has to lean in to hear her.

“I knew you’d come”

Of course she had. Fox wonders if she knew him better than he knew himself. This was always going to happen no matter how many times he’d lied to himself. He pulls his hand away. Mouse’s hangs empty in the air for a moment before she sets it down over her chest.

The quiet burr and hum of the monitors around her are the only sound between them until he reaches up to his bucket and lets the seal pop with a soft hiss.

Her eyes scan his face as he sets the helm off to the side. There’s a question there he can’t decipher. “What can I do?”

A harsh laugh escapes Fox’s lips and Mouse frowns at him.

“I think you’ve done enough, cyar’ika.”

“Fox-“ it’s a scolding tone that holds no weight when she looks like a battered doll in a too big hospital bed. She closes her eyes when he doesn’t give in and offer her more.

The bed dips under his weight as he sits at the edge of it. “I just wanted to make sure you were, ok. Alright?” He holds back from touching her again. It takes an enormous amount of will.

“I’m ok, Fox. Because of you.”

It’s a lie. All of it. It can’t be anything else. “You're in a hospital bed,” he growls, pushing up to his feet and stalking toward the window. He can’t look at her. “You spent days floating in bacta. You-“

“I’m alive.”

“That’s not because of me.”

He hears the ruffle of sheets as he looks out over Coruscant. The lights of the buildings and speeders in the sky lanes, like stars in the polluted evening light.

“Fox-“ her hand touches his arm and he spins to steady her. Anger swells up in him.

“Kriff- Mouse, get back in bed” he orders lowly, “you’re going to get hurt.”

She sways gently on her feet in the too big hospital gown but her jaw is set, “will you listen to me?”

“Will you get back in bed?” Fox pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath before looking at her again. “Get back in bed and I’ll listen. Please.”

Mouse stands, arms crossed, glaring pointedly. Fox has had enough. Quick and smooth like a tactical insertion he scoops her up. Mouse makes a small noise as his arms slide behind her knees and his other arm cradles behind her shoulders. She breathes heavily as she looks up at him.

“You’re going back to bed.” He covers the small room in just a few steps. When he goes to set her down she slips her arms around his neck and holds on for dear life.

“I’m not getting back in that bed unless you come with me.”

“You’re not in the position to make demands.” But that’s a lie because, with him, she was always in the position to make demands. She just never had to.

“Please, Fox. I just want one good night. You can leave as soon as I'm asleep.”

It’s hard to say if it’s the tired tone of her voice, the smell of her skin so temptingly close, or just his own beaten down need to be close to her, regardless Fox gives in.

“The armor stays on.” He says as he settles into the bed, he tries to keep his boots off the bed the best he can. Mouse curls tighter against him. It can’t be comfortable against the plastoid but to look at her he’d never know. One hand rests along his jaw while the other wraps around his back keeping him from easily disentangling himself.

Fox can’t help himself as he slips one glove off and cards his fingers through her hair, stopping every so often to work out a tangle. Mouse sighs against him.

“Precious girl,” he hums lowly as her fingers trace along the stubble at his jaw, “go to sleep.”

“You're going to leave once I do.”

“Yes, that was the deal.”

“You’re not going to come back.”

Again, he’s struck with how well she knows him. “No, cyar’ika. I’m not.”

6 days earlier

His knuckles are wailing in pain and it feels so kriffing good. His hands, wrapped in protective tape are held tight and safe as he tenderizes the heavy bag in front of him. A low, guttural growl works its way up from his chest with each landed blow.

It’s the first time he’s felt in control in days. Even if it only lasted for his duration in the sparring rooms he didn’t care. When he closes his eyes he doesn’t see Mouse at the end of his blaster, the way her body recoiled and convulsed at the first shot. He doesn’t hear the scream that rips through her when the second bolt burns through her side. He doesn’t dwell on the voice in his head demanding the kill while Fox did everything to drag his near perfect aim away from center mass.

He pictures Sidious’ face on the bag and the pile of sloppy mash his fists were making it into. There’s catharsis in the exertion that a psych droid couldn’t give him.

“Commander, sir?”

Fox turns to see Hound stripped down to just his black under armor pants. He was a burly boy as far as clones went, thicker and more muscular through the torso, next to Hound, Fox looks almost lithe.

Fox pants lightly as he dips to grab a bottle of water and straighten back up. “What can I do for you?”

“I- do you need to-“

Fox watches as the man chooses his words carefully, finally gesturing first toward the mat.

“You wanna go a few, rounds? Looks like you could use it?”

A roll of tape is flipped through the air in answer. Hound catches it smoothly, giving Fox a happy grin as he begins wrapping his hands.

5 days earlier

There’s a neat hole in his wall, fist sized and fresh, less than a week old. Fox pretends like he doesn’t see Chancellor Organa eyeballing it with some amount of apprehension. What he can’t pretend is that a visit from the newly minted Chancellor to his office isn’t a surprise.

“Commander, you can drop the title with me.” The Chancellor says for the second time since his arrival.

“Sir, it’s frowned upon-“

“-not by me”

Fox huffs and closes his eyes to hide the roll of them. “Ok, fine. Can I get you something to drink? Some caf?”

Bail waves off the offer, “I won’t be long and it looks like you're woefully underserved.” He tips his head back toward the door and the empty desk.

A bristle of irritation tingles down Fox’s neck. “She was in the hospital. She was…” the words trail off. Part of protecting his little Mouse was keeping her involvement in the Sidious event quiet.

“I know, Commander.” Bail says quietly, “we share a friend on the council who’s made me aware of many interesting things.”

It feels like he’s being baited. He likes to think Organa wouldn't try to try to weasel information from him but his trust is a very delicate thing at the moment and he’s not willing to give an inch. His loyalty is to his men and the republic, after that only one other person had earned any devotion from him and that was not Bail Organa. At least not yet.

“If there’s anything I can do for her, anything she needs we can make that happen.”

Fox glances at the picture on his desk. It had come by courier earlier in the day. It’s been neatly matted and framed to be hung, a children’s drawing of a small green twi’lek child and him holding hands. He’d stared at it on his desk in silence for far too long before he felt something ugly bubble up. Now he had a hole in the wall. He hoped the picture would cover it.

Fox continues to look at the picture. He needs a second to pretend like he knows what Mouse needs. He doesn’t listen to the nagging voice inside of him saying it to him. He hates that voice, would smother it if he could.

“She needs time to heal.”

“I can make that happen.”

“Thank you.”

Earlier this day

“Senator Amidala” Fox greets the senator at the door, “this is a surprise. If I keep receiving politicians in my office I’m going to have to have it made more suitable.”

The senator gives him a bright smile, “it’s good to see you Fox.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, “it’s good to see you too Padmé.”

They were friends, of a sort. They’d seen enough together that Fox would gladly file her under battle buddies in his short list of friends. She looks lovely, as always, absolutely glowing. Her hand rests softly over the growing baby bump she was now proudly displaying.

“You look wonderful. Congratulations on the coming Ik’aad.” He offers gesturing toward her belly. His eyes linger and he remembers laying Mouse across his bed, placing kisses in a ring around her naval and imaging what it would be like someday when he-

Fox gives his head a quick shake and refocuses on the senator.

“Thank you.” He watches her eyes travel to the child’s drawing on the wall behind his desk before returning to him. “And how are you doing?”

“As well as can be expected. Chancellor Organa keeps a busy schedule and he’s insistent that I go with him. He’s got a lot of ideas and he asks my opinion. It’s different… but it’s nice.”

Padmé slips into the chair across from him.

“That’s wonderful” but she doesn’t sound like it’s wonderful. She sounds like she was here on a mission that he hasn’t been briefed on. He raises a brow at her. They’ve known each other long enough that she should know to just come out with it.

“We’re leaving for Naboo today. I want to have the baby in the lake country. It’s beautiful and peaceful.” She lets out a tired laugh, “and far away from the prying eyes of the holonet news.”

“They’ve been very… interested in you as of late” he offers diplomatically.

Another small laugh, “to say the least” Padmé sobers. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok with her going?”

Confusion must show on his face. Her?

Padmé frowns gently, the look of pity is out of place on her serene features, “you weren’t told, were you?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to speak clearly.” Fox tries to bite back the tension but it slips into his voice.

She says Mouse’s name. Her real name.

“The Chancellor asked if we would take her with us. That she needed a place to finish recovering.” Padmé is watching his face. She’s trying to gauge his reaction.

He tries to give her nothing.

“She’s an amazing woman. She said if she went then she had to be useful. She’s going to be my assistant while I’m on leave-“

Fox holds up a hand. “She’s excellent at what she does. You’ll never be in better hands.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not her keeper. Mouse deserves to be safe and happy.” He shoots her a forced smile. “That’s not with me.”

Current

He had the rancor etched into his arm after Thorn had been killed in action on a mission Fox was supposed to have led. It was an inside joke they’d heard as shinies. Something about a Jedi and a rancor walking into a cantina. He can’t remember the punchline. It wasn’t funny anyways.

The Pantoran works the needle over his freshly shaven chest. Back and forth, outlining and filling. Pressing the ink into his skin to permanently mark him with another mark of regret, penance. Everytime he looks in the mirror, stripped down from his armor and his blacks he’ll see the reminder of what never was supposed to be, the thing that he went after when he knew it wasn’t allowed. The love that nearly destroyed the person he cared for beyond all others.

“So, this picture is pretty wicked” the Pantoran says conversationally. He glances back and forth from the reference picture Fox gave him, a partial hand print pressed against his armor, the fourth and fifth finger only partially visible and the heel of the hand smeared red. “Was it done in ink?”

“No. Blood.”

The Pantoran makes a sound of understanding. The buzz of the tattoo gun fills the quiet.

Seconds, minutes, hours it’s all the same as Fox sits still as stone in the chair, the press of the needle intimately familiar.

He thinks of Mouse on a shuttle to Naboo.

This was what he’d needed. Mouse far away, somewhere safe. Somewhere no one could hurt her. Where he couldn’t hurt her. No matter what he’s told he still doesn’t believe there isn’t something in him that can be persuaded, to be flipped on, that won’t harm her.

He needed to focus on his job, his men, the Galactic Republic. There was no world in which he and Mouse would work and it was better that she wasn’t there to know that.

“Alright, mate.” The Artist sets the gun down and claps his hands once before rubbing them together. “You’re all set. Why don’t you take a looksy in the mirror while I grab the bacta gel and a dressing?”

Fox nods and pushes himself up. His back is stiff from laying still and he takes a moment to stretch and twist before stepping in front of the mirror. His eyes trace the ink. It’s a perfect replica of the picture, deep vibrant red fingers pressing into his armor, only now pressing into his heart. A reminder of what happens when he becomes selfish. When he wants more than the greater design allows for.

“It’s perfect.”

[zahneundklauen-retired]

Lead And I Will Follow || Ariana and Alcher

TIMING: Sometime after Alcher got back from dreamland (Current-ish) PARTIES: @letsbenditlikebennett and @zahneundklauen SUMMARY: Alcher and Ariana discuss what the future might hold and how the present might unfold. CONTENT: None!

It was hard to know, now, what was real and what wasn’t. And while Alcher hadn’t seen Klaus since she’d “woken up”-- but oh did she wish to, oh how she wanted to-- she still wasn’t sure she could truly trust anything she was seeing. Was this bench real? Was the farm real? Was the figure coming up the drive real? Her sense had never failed her before, but she hadn’t even realized who it was until she could see them in front of her. Ariana. But even reaching out to touch the girl couldn’t prove she was real, could it? And so Alcher waited, watching her with tired eyes. The bags that had grown under them showed off the lack of sleep the older wolf was getting, and the creaking of her joints reminded her of how long it had been since she’d changed. She felt stiff, solid, frozen. Her head always hurt. Her chest felt empty. She hadn’t told a soul what had happened in that dream world, the shame wrought inside of her like a poison-- not even Ulfric. She wanted to be strong for her new pack, but how could she remember her love for them when she could not feel her old family’s? Blinking away the thoughts, she stood up from her spot on the bench outside to greet the young pup. “It’s good to see you,” she said with a ghostly smile, “it’s been a while. Have you reconsidered living here at all?”

The farm had quickly begun to feel like a second home of sorts. It wasn’t quite a cabin in the woods, but Ariana found she felt at ease there all the same. It was definitely more spacious than her apartment and Alcher and Ulf always seemed more than happy to have her there. In theory, moving in would have been easy, but as it stood, she realized Alcher didn’t even really know about Celeste let alone Athena. Or her friendship with Rio and Kaden. Then again, had they not had a good talk after everything with Adam? It was hard for her to wrap her head around. This living squarely in between two worlds wasn't easy, especially when she was in a spiral of doubting her own ability to truly help anyone. Her own worries seemed to slip away as she made her way up to the farm. Alcher... did not look good. If she was going to be frank about it, she might even say Alcher looked like shit. Her limbs and eyes both seemed heavy. It even took her longer than normal to acknowledge who was approaching when she was normally so sharp. Just in time, Alcher was up to greet her and Ariana offered a smile. “It’s good to see you too,” she said with a slightly quirked brow, “I haven’t. The place looks great and I love you guys, but I couldn’t imagine leaving Athena. It’s… well different kind of love and all. Doesn’t mean I won’t be by all the time.” She gave Alcher a slight nudge, but still couldn’t shake the feeling something wasn’t quite right. “How are you doing? You look… tired.” 

“Ah, yes, your new, er--” Alcher started, but lately she’d been forgetting more and more English words. It was supposed to be a simple one. “Freundin, partner.” That was what Ulfric had told her she and him were, and it had warmed her heart. She hoped Ariana felt the same with her Athena. “I take it she is treating you well, then? And you her?” she motioned for Ariana to come sit with her, sliding an arm around her shoulders. The height difference between them seemed less so now when her body hung her so heavy she slouched. As they sat, Alcher moved with great effort, leaning back with a sigh of relief once she was down again. Usually her body healed quickly, but she supposed super healing didn’t apply to a body that was damaged in another realm. Perhaps the ink that had swallowed them was still in her lungs, her heart, her veins. “I am...dealing,” she answered. It was the only answer she had. Perhaps Ariana was not even real, and Alcher was simply having another conversation with her own consciousness. She shook the thought away and reached out to squeeze Ariana’s hand, grounding herself in this reality. “I can not really begin to describe what happened, it’s as if it was really just a dream…” her voice tapered off as her eyes glossed over slightly. A beat later and she blinked, coming back to herself. “It was not without consequence, though. But,” she turned to look at Ariana, “I am home and I am alive, and that counts for something.” It had to, otherwise everything she’d sacrificed would be for nothing.

“Freudin,” Ariana repeated slowly, “Girlfriend, but partner also works. More general and suits everyone, you know?” There was still something about any of the words that excited her still. While they had settled into a comfortable routine together, there was a certain magic to it all. How even her heaviest moments seemed lighter somehow. “Yes, we’re treating each other well. Supporting each other and all that. It’s been nice.” There was only a slight hint of a blush on her cheeks that faded just as quickly as her head tilted. Alcher’s response was arguably more of a nonanswer that left her wanting answers. It was likely that Alcher didn’t want to put any problems on her, but she couldn’t help but wonder. Couldn’t help but want to help before that familiar sinking feeling rose up in her. Help. Something she longed so much to give yet whenever she tried, she only seemed to make things worse. No, this wasn’t about her and wasn’t time to sink back into those darker feelings that kept creeping back to the surface no matter how hard she tried to push past them and remind herself that trying was always worth the pain. “Dealing,” she said slowly as she tried to formulate how to approach this, “A dream? Can you try… to, you know, describe it?” Whatever had Alcher in this state, she definitely wanted to know about it though she wished she realized something was up sooner. Alcher was always so quick to offer help to her, it felt like that should go both ways. “It does count, for a lot, but so does whatever you went through.” 

“Good,” Alcher said, patting Ariana’s leg, “good. You deserve someone who can make you happy like that. As long as she’s treating you well.” Her voice trailed off a moment, as if she were contemplating something. “That’s all that matters.” She turned her head to look at Ariana and wondered if, perhaps, she’d completely lost it, and this version of the girl was a conjuring of her own imagination. How would she be able to tell? Sure, she could smell Ariana, and hear the sound of her voice, and even see the blurry shape of her figure beside her, but if her senses could have been tricked once before, why not again? She simply let out a breath and closed her eyes, trying to remember as best she could. “I promise you, Ariana, I am not trying to...minimize what I went through, but it is not your responsibility to pick me up from it,” she opened her eyes to look at her again. “I want to be the best I can be for you and while that may take some time to get back to, I will get there. You need just look out for you and make sure you are doing your best.” She would not want to look so weak as to need to lean on her pups. No, she had Ulfric for her more immediate needs, and others for her more difficult ones. 

“I’m inclined to agree with you, but I think most people deserve someone like that in their life,” Ariana agreed with a slight shrug. Hell, a little bit of love could make a hell of a lot of a difference for most. Alcher may have had her own thoughts on that, but it was hard to gauge. Where Ariana was an open book, Alcher seemed to keep her troubles close to her heart. She trusted Alcher, she had earned that much, but she wished she’d show a bit of vulnerability. Wolves had the pack so no one had to be strong all the time. There was a slight frown on her face as Alcher spoke and she looked down at her lap momentarily to refrain from letting out a sigh. “It’s not about whether it’s my responsibility. I care about you. If there’s anything I can do to help, I want to do it,” she explained earnestly. If she really thought about it, she could understand Alcher’s tendency to be a bit more reserved with her troubles, but emotion ruled and she found herself pressing for that trust she put in the older wolf to be returned. “You already are,” she insisted, “It’s not- your best isn’t something that stays the same, okay? It’s always changing and right now you’re at your best given whatever you’ve gone through. Maybe I can’t change what happened, but I can be here now. And pr- assure that I’m staying out of trouble on my end. But we’re wolves, we’re here for each other. It’s kind of our thing.” She reached to give Alcher’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Maybe she was pushing too hard, but after everything Alcher had done for her, the least she could do was offer some support. 

“Hmmmm…” Alcher hummed quietly, contemplating. “Yes, most people do.” She wondered if she did. She wondered if she deserved what she did have. If she couldn’t even protect her family, how could she protect a pack? Were any of the packs she’d helped better off now? Was Cain’s pack doing okay? She wondered if they would welcome her back. She wondered if they missed her. She missed them, sometimes. Her mind came back to the little wolf sitting next to her and she blinked. She frowned, furrowed her brow. “I...would not even know what to ask of you, Ariana,” she admitted quietly, “because I do not know what I need.” For the first time in her life, she had no idea what she needed. There was no vengeance left, no stain on her past, no family to hold. There was just-- this. A farm, a pack, a partner. She wanted a family. So, perhaps, she did know what she needed. “You’ve always been so strong, Ariana,” she said then, turning to look at her. She appreciated the gentle touch, the reassuring stare. “The others look up to you, you know. They’ll need your help. I can only give them so much.” She would give them her entire body, soul and mind and all, if they asked. “RIght now I think I need you to...be there for them, while I can’t. I want this place to be...a home for them. I’d like to think it could be full one day.” She turned her wistful gaze out onto the land that stretched towards the horizon, and the treeline. “Ulfric wants that, too.”

Ariana found she admired Alcher’s quiet strength. The way she carried herself always had a hint of pride to it. Life hadn’t been easy for either of them, but if Alcher persevered through it all, maybe she could too. Even on the days she wasn’t so sure she could. It was evident the elder wolf still carried pain close to her heart. Maybe it wasn’t something she felt inclined to share, but in its way, it made Alcher easier to relate to. Even this wolf, who in her mind had been relentlessly fierce and almost untouchable, had moments of vulnerability. Even if they weren’t shared with her, it was a good reminder to stay strong. To keep pushing. “That’s okay,” she responded gently, “It’s not always easy figuring out what you need. But for what it’s worth, I’m here and I care.” Ariana decided being there was what she could do. Alcher was so determined to help wolves all around the world, so she could be here. She could be strong. She could help Luis and Damien even if the latter fought tooth and nail to keep her at arm’s length. She found herself looking up as Alcher spoke of her strength and how the others looked up to her. It was nice to hear. “You are too-- strong that is,” she said easily, “And I’ll do my best for the others, too. I think Luis could use somewhere to call home. Hell, I bet if Damien pulled his head out of his ass for all of thirty seconds, he’d like that, too.” There was a bit of a laugh as she spoke of Damien. Annoying him had become a bit of a hobby for her, but she had the feeling she was getting under his skin. It made that dream they shared that much more achievable. She smiled softly. “I think one day, we’ll all be here together roasting meat over an open fire and just… laughing. Singing. Enjoying ourselves. And that’s because of you and Ulf.” 

“It is worth so much,” Alcher reassured Ariana, giving her a pat on the hand. And it was. She would not lie about that, even to make a pup feel better. Ariana was so much stronger than the rest of them, her resolve so unshaken. She knew the girl had been through a lot, but it showed, and she proved herself time and time again that she had a good head between her shoulders. Her only fault laid with the humans and hunters she so desperately protected. But Alcher didn’t have the energy-- nor the will-- the fight that battle right now. It could come later, when she was better. When things were back to normal. If that ever happened. “Luis is...so lost,��� she sighed. The poor boy was going to run himself to death if he kept thinking his wolf was a disease that he could find a cure for. She was touched, though, that he tried so hard to connect with her. Damien, on the other hand, was left to his own devices. While she cared for all wolves, she could see the hate inside of him that would drive his path, and she could do nothing but offer him her guidance if he so wanted it. He was old enough to make his own choices. “I hope so, too,” she said, pulling her thoughts back to the present. “I think I’d like that.” She looked out across the farm and saw, in a momentary lapse, her brothers running free and wild across a field of lush green. Rolling, playing, laughing. She felt nothing for it, and emptier for that. “If you find something important, Ariana, hold onto it. Tighter than anything else. Okay?”

The reassuring gesture left Ariana feeling a little better about everything. She still worried for Alcher and whatever it is that she may have gone through recently, but better than most, she knew there was no changing the past. Sometimes just being there for people you cared for had to be enough even if you wanted to give them the world. There was a soft grin on her face as Alcher patted her hand. The breeze that picked up around them perfectly mirrored the gentleness of the moment and carried with it the smell of new life coming into bloom. As nice as this moment was, Ariana found she did worry for Luis and she wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to help him. Nearly every time she spoke to him, she found herself confused and it seemed he managed to find so much trouble. “He is,” she said softly, “I’m not really sure how to help him. All of this is so new to him and White Crest is so well… White Crest. It’s good he at least believes what he is now, I just think acceptance and becoming one with the wolf side himself will take time.” She was able to gather that Luis didn’t really want to hurt anyone. Maybe showing him how she went through life could help. “What do you normally do to help new wolves get a good grip on all of this,” she asked, genuinely curious. Alcher probably knew better than anyone how to help new wolves. After all, travelling and helping packs was her life’s work. If she could pick up on some of what Alcher had to offer, she could help, too. And they’d be closer to that nice barbecue day together on the farm. “I thought you would,” she responded with a small smile before her face settled into a relaxed yet thoughtful glance out at the field. She nodded slowly, “I will. I think-- Well, we both know how easy the people we love can slip out of reach forever. But I’ll hold on to what’s important to me, always. And that includes you, Ulf, Luis, and even Damien.” 

The breeze was nice. Alcher closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the feeling for a moment, as she listened to Ariana’s words, and thought on them. The truth was that she had not encountered anyone as lost as Luis. There had been many, lost to rage, or sorrow, or pain-- but never to the point of this. She was still deciding what was best. She wanted to take him in and hold him until he understood, and another part of her wanted to force him to face himself, his wolf, and embrace it, just like her father had made her and her brothers do. But that sentiment was....cold. An echo in her chest. “I’ve found the best way is to just...show them what you can. Show them that their wolf is not a monster. We are simply-- part of the ecosystem and we are at the top of the food chain. Our rage and our power does not have to be used to maim, and it can be controlled. But I think most of us are just...searching for peace, and it is a hard thing to achieve when a beast crawls in your chest.” She looked over at Ariana. “Perhaps he just needs someone who understands him more. We were both born as we are, but he lived a very human life up until his bite. I just do not...know who might be able to give him that.” Alcher reached up to rub her head, a sudden throb working its way across her temples. Sleepless nights had turned into painful afternoons. “Good things are never really gone, if we keep them in our hearts,” she mumbled. Her heart was cold and empty now, the good of her family taken by a creature who made empty promises.

Even when it was apparent things were not completely okay, Ariana found there to be something peaceful about sitting on the porch of the farm with Alcher. This space really felt like it could be a safe haven for the wolves. As the breeze swayed blades of grass, she could picture all of them running free out here. She could see them working with newer wolves to help them learn control. On summer days, she could see them out here barbecuing far too much meat and laughing away. She held on hope that they’d all see those good times together sooner rather than later. Her focus shifted back to Alcher as she took in every word. From the moment she’d met him, Ariana felt protective of Luis. He’d been so lost as to what he was and so sure he was sick. “That makes sense. I can definitely try to show him more and work with him on learning to embrace being a wolf. I think maybe acceptance plays into that, both the control and the peace. The way he talked about it was like it’s a disease,” she said slowly as she tried to wrap her head around some ideas. Maybe sparring out in the forest or meditation or something could help. Focusing in on her breathing had always helped her, but her wolflike nature was ingrained in her personality, she was never fighting herself or her instincts. And she also knew Alcher was right, they’d never really be able to understand his struggle. They were born this way and didn’t hate what they were because they’d never known anything else. “I try to understand, but I know I can’t. Maybe we’ll meet another new wolf who could relate to him better. I think Damien was bitten, but he’s not exactly the friendliest guy around.” Ariana could understand that, wanting to be understood. She let out a soft sigh and leaned back her seat. A lot of good things lived on in her heart, but they sure as hell felt gone. It was a nice sentiment though so she nodded, “As long as we carry them with us.” 

The breeze brought the scent of the forest around them to Alcher’s head and she felt a relief she hadn’t in a long time. It was a relief to know she had Ariana by her side, and it was a relief to know she had this place. It was her sanctuary, just like her home in Germany had been. She’d been searching for one for so long now. Had she even realized that, until this moment? She couldn’t be sure. “I think he might feel more at peace with someone closer to his age. I fear I might...intimidate him,” she admitted quietly, “but at least he knows, now, what he truly is. He poisons himself with our bane, though, and I wish there was a way to stop him from that. Perhaps with time, with demonstration.” She looked back over to Ariana. “I am sorry to place this burden on you, Ariana, but I believe you can be a great leader, one day.” She reached out to gently tuck some of her hair behind her ear. “A pack would be lucky to have you at its head.”

It was funny how something Ariana had always wanted could leave her feeling so uncertain. While the smells and sounds of the forest that surrounded the farm brought her a sense of ease, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was really the one to help or lead. All she knew was trying felt worlds better than leaving people she cared for hanging. “I think you may be right. I think age-wise we can relate well and I enjoy his music. I don’t love that he uses the wolfsbane, but I think it gives him a sense of control. Maybe not real control, but I believe he can get there,” she said thoughtfully. The next part was a little more tricky. Befriending hunters and even loving a select few of them either made her the best fit for leading or the worst. She was sure plenty of wolves would challenge her ideals just as she was sure many hunters would too. They all deserved some peace though. “Hm,” she sighed as she thought it over, “Thank you… and it’s not a burden. I think leading means being there for people you care about and that’s never something I’d consider a burden.” The gesture from Alcher left her feeling a bit warmer and less wary of everything they all faced. “No matter who is leading, I’ll always try to help other wolves in need,” she said more confidently this time and hoped that it ensured Alcher the wolves in White Crest would be well looked after even if she hoped that didn’t mean Alcher would make her way to another town soon. 

Ariana’s words nearly matched the same ones Alcher had said to her mother over three decades ago. Her mind tried to latch onto the memory, trying to remember why it had mattered so much. But it left nothing, only the burning ache that had replaced all of it. She closed her eyes and breathed in again, washing the memory away. She had new ones to create. “You’ll make a great leader,” she reiterated, patting her hand gently. She looked back out across the farm again and turned to Ariana. “How about we go for a run? We haven’t done that for a while. I can show you how far the property stretches and we can decide the best place to have our future barbeque.” 

[ichigo-kamome]

Hold It In - Jukebox The Ghost - a Kagehina one shot

This one shot is heavily inspired by oq_keiji on ao3 called “afraid of what i’ll find”. The timeline is structured the same way as her fanfic, and we highly recommend you check it out! https://archiveofourown.org/works/30808232?view_adult=true This one shot is meant to be around the time that Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio are in their third year of high school. The title of this one shot is the song that inspired the storyline! Here is a link to the playlist we have created for this one shot and upcoming one shots! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2B4DwHhh7yQN63SsYRAmU0?si=d35ca62dda4641d7

Also I wasn’t able to proof read this before I went to work, so my apologies for any errors!!

WE HOPE YOU ENJOY! - ichigo-kamome <3

“I’m terribly sorry, but… Well, I’m not all that interested!” Shoyo said politely, as Kageyama stared blankly. He was completely taken aback by this, though he shouldn’t have been.

“I’m sorry! I appreciate the gesture! Have a great day!” Hinata finished, running back to the commotion of the gymnasium. His classmate remained dumbfounded.

That’s the fifth time this week, and it’s only Tuesday! Kageyama thought as he received the ball his underclassman bumped to him. How many confessions is Shoyo going to get this year..? His mind began swirling with thoughts of countless girls coming to steal Hinata’s attention… Maybe even a few guys, too.

“Welcome back, heartbreaker,” Tsukishima teased as Hinata bounded over to his friends anxiously. Yamaguchi snickered, but tried not to laugh so hard as to be insensitive. Tsukki didn’t care about this, and rather laughed louder than Hinata would have liked.

“Tsukki!” Hinata hushed as heads turned towards them. “Now you’ve done it…” Yachi was making her way over to the four, her ponytail swaying as she rushed over.

“Shoyo!” she exclaimed in a whisper, grasping the cuff of his shirt and pulling him over. “Don’t tell me you just declined ANOTHER girl…?” She looked somewhat upset, confused, and nervous. A mix of emotions that Tobio was afraid to get in the way of, frankly.

“SHHH!” Shoyo said, placing a finger to his lips and whipping his head around frantically. “Don’t have to tell the whole team!” The shade of red on his face was becoming deeper by the second, revealing his utter embarrassment. Yachi let go of him and sighed, shaking her head and giggling slightly.

“I swear, you need to learn a better way of turning those poor girls down. How about I help you some time? Because whatever you keep doing, it’s not working. Those poor girls always run off crying,” Yachi said, a sad tone behind her words. Hinata nodded, beginning to discuss a time the two could work on their studies together while also learning the proper way to let someone down.

“Hey, why do you even reject these girls? Isn’t there one you find pretty or something?” Tsukki interrupted the chatter bluntly, causing Hinata to turn red once again. There was an awkward silence that hung in the air, which only one person understood the reasoning for. It felt thick, filled with confusion and suppressed emotions. The team’s captain sucked in a deep breath before speaking, as if to gain the courage to break the void before them.

“Okay, let’s get back to volleyball,” Yamaguchi interjected, breaking the deafening silence. “We can talk about it after practice, if necessary!” His soft smile made the situation feel less tense, causing Hinata to take a mental sigh of relief.

Kageyama sensed the tension, but couldn’t pinpoint the reason for it. There wasn’t anything that stuck out in his mind as abnormal when it came to Hinata rejecting other girls. He was very focused on volleyball, of course. So it’s not as if he actually had time to go on dates and such with anyone else. It made sense in his brain. Regardless of the reason, Kageyama was somewhat relieved that Shoyo had never accepted anyone’s confession. That was all he allowed himself to expand on that subject.

Yamaguchi was practically Hinata’s guardian angel that day, and he was somewhat aware of this. The awkward pause that Hinata had displayed was enough to confirm his already present suspicion. It was so obvious - the two liked each other. Tadashi was always very observant of his fellow teammates, paying a careful eye to how they interacted with one another. It was his current job as captain of the volleyball team to ensure that everything was running smoothly. This involved picking up on unsaid words within conversations and acting in accordance to what he could understand. And from what he just saw… Well, at least Hinata wasn’t comfortable with making statements in regards to romantic feelings.

The rest of the practice ran smoothly from what Tadashi could see. His teammates were all improving significantly, which caused a grin to appear on his face. He was improving, as well. It was nice to witness growth, especially when he was partaking in it. Half way through practice, though, Yachi had waved him over during a water break. Tadashi jogged lightly to his friend, who had a concerned expression on her face. “Everything okay, Yachi..?”

“Tadashi, what was the whole… situation earlier… about? Is Sho okay?” Another silence filled the space between them, causing the captain to suck in a large breath as he debated what to say next.

“Yeah, no, I think it’s okay right now!” His smile was stiff. Yachi noticed, raising an eyebrow. “He just doesn’t seem to enjoy discussing romantic interests, you know? Or at least… that’s what I could see!”

Yachi nodded happily, but wasn’t quite convinced that everything was okay with Hinata. So, she decided to bring it up with him herself the next time she saw him, which was during their study session.

“Hey Sho, do you like anyone?”

It took a moment for Hinata to fully register what was just asked of him. He started blankly at his homework, then whipped his head up to Yachi. She had her eyes locked onto her pencil that was scribbling away on her paper. It was as if she had never asked in the first place. Hinata felt the temperature of his face skyrocket. He figured he could just ignore it and pretend he didn’t hear her, so he looked back down at his assignment and pretended to write nonsense.

“Sho, are you okay..?”

“YES!”

“That wasn’t convincing.”

“YES!”

A staring competition had spontaneously begun between the two. The silence was, once again, deafening. Hinata’s brows were furrowed, his gaze fixed on his friend’s eyebrows. He figured if he looked into her eyes, he would be done for. The thick, deafening silence returned once again. Yachi simply exhaled, turning her focus back to her studies. Hinata’s face softened, and the expression of irritation changed to that of confusion.

“Sorry,” broke the silence in a soft tone. Hinata didn’t move, holding still as if to not explode. “I don’t quite know why I’m pushing so much… It’s not like me.” A slight laugh escaped her lips as she looked at her notes.

The silence, the silence, the silence. This wasn’t like Hinata, to be so quiet. So, he mustered up the courage, - or rather, exploded of emotion, - and blurted into the impenetrable void, “I like someone.”

“What?”

“I like someone.”

“Oh. So that’s why you reject the girls..? But if you can get any girl you like by this point, why not just talk to her?”

“It’s not like that-”

“It’s not like what?”

“It’s not like he’s a girl.”

Yachi’s jaw dropped, her hand flying to her mouth. She tried to close it, but to no success. Eyes wide, she stared at Shoyo who had finally made eye contact with her. Of course, how did I not see this before?! She thought, memories of the past flying through her head at light speed. Suddenly, his being quiet made so much more sense than before.

“You cannot tell anyone. I don’t even want to feel this way, I just… do? I can’t really describe it, I’m not good with this stuff,” he spoke, moving his hand to the back of his head and crossing his legs. Yachi shook her head rapidly.

“I won’t tell anyone, promise!”

“And it’s not like it’s even been a long time.”

“Really?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“SURE?”

“WELL-” Yachi wanted to elaborate, but the two couldn’t even begin to speak coherent thoughts anymore as the room filled with their laughter. The joyful interaction caused the tension to break, allowing Hinata to relax and again and Yachi to take a breath. She was still concerned for her friend, but at least she had a way to help him now. “I won’t pry anymore, my apologies! And your secret is safe with me, I swear!”

“Thanks, Yachi,” the boy sighed, resting his head in his notebook to try and hide his still burning face.

“Now, about how to politely decline girls…”

---

“Hey, Hinata, pass me my water bottle?” Kageyama asked during break one practice. Shoyo grabbed his water bottle and jogged over to him, beginning a light conversation which escalated into friendly banter. Yachi stood on the side of the gym, studying the writing on her clipboard. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the writings and her friend’s interactions, trying to examine facial expressions and body language.

“So, how was studying with Shoyo?” Yachi felt her feet practically leave the ground upon hearing Tadashi’s voice. Though she was much more confident in herself, she did still get spooked by the slightest of things sometimes.

“Studying..? Stu… OH, it went well!” Her head nodded up and down rapidly, which led to an eyebrow raise from the captain.

“Did you figure out why Shoyo had been acting weird the other day..?” The feeling of conversation suddenly changed as Yachi felt a pit appear in her stomach. Her heart sank slightly. I promised Hinata I wouldn’t be telling anyone anything, but I don’t want to lie to another friend… Wow wow wow, this is a tough one…

“Oh, that! Well, yeah, sort of, and everything is a-ok!” Yachi nodded once again. Yamaguchi’s eyebrow raised once again.

“Oh, well I won’t pry too much if he’s doing well!” He grinned, turning to face his two friends still caught up in conversation on the court. The mannerisms. Body language. Unsaid words. “They totally like each other.”

“Yep.” Tsukishima interjected from the other side of Yachi. She jumped again, but just slightly this time. Her gaze swiftly returned to the pair. The three of them observed, and noticed that the two were almost in their own little world. It was as if it was just them in the gym, talking back and forth like a game. Kei glanced over at Tadashi. Unspoken words. Don’t disrupt them. They just aren’t ready to tell each other. Kei nodded, setting down his water bottle and retying his shoelaces.

“Alright, let’s work on passing drills!” Yamaguchi spoke above the chatter. As the team walked over he looked back at Yachi, who looked still somewhat nervous.

“He told you, yeah?” He said in a hushed tone. All he received was a simple nod.

“Don’t worry, there’s no telling here.” He smiled softly at her, keeping his gaze fixed just on her for a moment. He then turned away, and jogged over to his teammates.

---

“Hey, mind if I tag along?” Tobio questioned his friend as they left the club room that day. Hinata stopped walking and felt this little… dance? in his heart. He sucked in a breath, but not one deep enough that could be heard by his friend.

“Oh, wanna come hang out? Ya lonely at home?” Hinata teased, causing Kageyama to pout. The pair walked next to each other, Hinata wheeling his bike to his opposite Kageyama. Their eyes were dead set ahead, because both individuals knew if they looked at the other, they wouldn’t be able to keep their cool.

“Pff, not lonely, dumbass. Just want to… I guess, make the most of the year? It’s our last one,” Kageyama said matter of factly. Hinata’s smile faded ever so slightly, just enough that one wouldn’t notice unless they paid close attention to him.

“Yeah, good point. Okay, then yes. In fact, you’re basically obligated to! And, maybe we ask the other t-”

“Or we just hang out, us two.” Hinata attempted to suppress a reaction and gripped firmly to his bicycle’s handles, but what he didn’t realize was that in and of itself was a reaction. I think I said that out loud- Wait- “Well, just like, this time, because the other’s are already on their way home.”

“Well, I know that, dummy-yama! I meant later, like, over the course of this year kind of thing. Tonight we’ll hang out just us, because we are both lonely!” A triumphant mood was in the words he spoke, though the last part of what he just said was not particularly lending to ‘triumphant.’

“HEY, WE AREN’T LONELY!” Tobio exclaimed, to which Shoyo just laughed. The taller tried to keep his composure, but soon lost it as laughter rang through the air.

He has this way of making situations feel less tense. His smile could make anyone feel warm inside, to the point where they forget the absence of that heat exists. Tobio looked over to his friend, trying his best not to give away his true feelings. He sure is somethin’.

It wasn’t long before the house was in sight. “Race ya!”, of course, were the first words said when the two could see it. Tobio darted ahead, much further in the lead because he didn’t have to wheel a bike beside him. However, he was soon overtaken by Hinata, who had the bright idea of riding the bike.

“HINATA, YOU DUMBASS!” rang through the air as the dark haired boy did his very best to speed up, but to no success.

“I WIN, TAKE THAT!”

“ONLY BECAUSE YOU CHEATED!”

“Hey now, I was only using my resources wisely,” Shoyo huffed, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows. He dropped his bike and ran inside, alerting his sister and mother that he arrived safely. Tobio smiled, shaking his head. He followed his friend inside, trying to wipe the smitten expression off of his face.

“Hi, Tobio,” said a sleepy Natsu, who had a blanket wrapped around herself. Tobio waved, trying to hide his face still. Her eyes widened, and she stared blankly up at him. Her eyebrows furrowed. She crossed her arms. “Why are you always so angry?”

“Wh- I AM NOT ANGRY, I-”

“Oh, that’s just his face. I thought I told you that last time, Natsu?” Hinata said, slipping off his shoes and walking into the kitchen. Kageyama stood there, dumbfounded by the interaction that just happened, trying not to burst with emotion. Whether that emotion was annoyance or joy, he couldn’t tell… but it sure was emotion.

“Yeah, it’s… just my face,” he stated coolly, repeating Hinata’s actions. He followed his friend, still feeling a little stiff in the environment. It wasn’t as if he had never been to Hinata’s house, in fact he came here to study every now and then. However, he felt a burning in his chest of anxiety, likely due to the fact that it wasn’t just Hinata’s house that he was in anymore. Well, it was, but was also the house of his crush. One that by now, he had hoped would fade. He wanted to be satisfied with a friendship. But, naturally, the more he tried to push it down the stronger it grew.

“Ya want some food?” Shoyo’s voice pierced through Tobio’s racing thoughts. He stared at him for a second, then realized he had been staring for more than just a second. Trying not to seem too obviously nervous he nodded his head. Shoyo smiled and started to find some food to eat.

The bubbly boy bounced around the kitchen, but didn’t exactly know how to cook a proper meal. Well, he did, but he wanted to make sure it was just right for his friend.

Friend. He tried not to linger too long on that word, because it only caused his heart to clench slightly. Why it felt this way, he couldn’t explain properly. Regardless, he knew he felt something for Tobio that was more than just a friendship. Not like that would ever but spoke about publicly, but it was there.

Shoyo’s mom came into the kitchen and began to prepare a meal for the boys, talking about how school was going, how volleyball was going, what Tobio had been up to lately, et cetera, et cetera. Small talk helped both of the boys' hearts to still a bit, focusing on something besides each other.

Thank you, mom. Hinata thought to himself. Little did he know, Kageyama was thinking the same thing.

The meal went over well, the boys talking with the family about the antics they had been getting up to in volleyball, school, the usual. Natsu seemed very sleepy the entire time, and it looked like she might pass out onto the plate in front of her.

“Natsu, how has volleyball been for you?” Tobio asked her. She looked up at him as if he had just set off a firework on New Year’s day in the shape of a puppy. Natsu no longer looked like she was tired, but rather began rambling endlessly about how much fun she was having and how wonderfully it was going. Tobio listened with obvious interest, and Shoyo watched from his seat.

Kageyama’s a much cooler guy than I used to think he was, Hinata thought to himself, watching the two chatter back and forth about the sport they both adored.

Before they knew it, bed time had arrived. It felt like two seconds had passed since they had arrived, truthfully. Kageyama was a little upset that the night had to come to an end, but he didn’t let it show.

The friends brushed their teeth and changed into pajamas - “You can borrow some of mine! My aunt got these flannel pants for me as a gift but they are way too long, they should fit you!” - and then stared at the floor before them. Hinata’s bed was a roll out which was just big enough for ‘one person�� which meant someone would have to sleep on the floor.

“I don’t mind,” said Tobio.

“No, no, you’re my guest!” Shoyo insisted, finding some spare blankets and pillows and settling himself on the floor near his friend.

Friend. That word echoed through each boy's mind as they tried to sleep.

Tobio had been aware of these feelings for a longer period of time than Shoyo. He was pretty sure he had recognized them first when he told Sho, “As long as I’m here, you’re invincible.” That’s when his heart first clenched, when he first noticed something out of the ordinary, when Shoyo’s sunshiney personality became more beautiful.

For Hinata, it had taken a little longer. Entering their third year, he realized that there was this burning feeling in his chest when he looked at Kageyama. When he set up the volleyball for him to spike, Hinata felt that burning again. It had entirely thrown him off at first, causing him to have to resync and try again to hit the ball a few times. Even still, he felt the burning. He was just… more comfortable with it now.

He still tried to deny his feelings. Kageyama was his friend, his rival. He shouldn’t have feelings for a friend. The burning was just anxiety about this year, about the pressure, about… anything else. However, he knew that wasn’t true. He was still coming to terms with this.

Shoyo, nearly asleep, rolled over out of habit and suddenly was right next to Tobio. Tobio felt a pang of anxiety rush through him. Do I say something? He’s probably already asleep. We’re just friends, it’s not a big deal. This is very normal. Don’t make it awkward. He tried to calm himself down. He smells nice. I can feel his warmth. I wish I could move a little closer, but I shouldn’t Don’t make it awkward.

Tobio’s thoughts raced wildly through his head. There was no way he was sleeping tonight.

He laid there for an hour or so, still trying to calm himself and still his rapidly beating heart. He had been slightly successful, but nonetheless, still nervous. Then, his friend moved closer. Hinata had his arms around him. He was asleep, there was no doubt in Kageyama’s mind. There was no way he could move now. Though, he placed his arms gently around his friend and allowed himself to relax. Soon, he drifted off as well.

Waking up was the hard part. Hinata woke up first, somewhat surprised by the entanglement he found himself in. His face turned red, and the heart clenching and burning had returned. He didn’t move, though. He didn’t want to. That and he couldn’t because he was slightly paralyzed by the fact that he was laying with his crush.

It’s just Tobio, don’t label him that. Hinata thought, then sitting up and walking to the door. He turned, looking at his friend. He smiled, seeing a sleepy Tobio lying peacefully. He smiled softly, feeling a different kind of warmth in his chest than before. This one felt like tea and honey, as if things would work out between the two of them.

Then he furrowed his eyebrows at the setter, frowned, and the warmth was gone. Now, there was heat. An anger for the boy.

Why do I have these feelings for you?

Kageyama thought the same thing that day in their first year. He didn’t allow himself to feel them while they were on the court, but afterwards, that was the only thought running through his head.

Why?

The same one Hinata was forced to be faced with now, on a random morning in his third year. Next year, he will be off to Brazil and Kageyama will be playing on some amazing team here in Japan. Miles, and miles, and miles away from each other with time differences and emotions they both were struggling to suppress.

Why?

Neither figured they would find the answer to that. But, maybe it wasn’t a matter of why they felt this way, but rather, what next?

What next?

That wasn’t for them to decide right now. And so, they continued on just like they always had been. And, for now, that was enough.

It would have to be.

[kingreywrites]

Some Kind Of Change

@riverxdoctorforever​ sorry, this ended up focusing on new dream wedding fluff a lot more than anticipated fgshjdsk Cassandra does come though, and I hope you’ll like it!!

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 1922

Summary: A lot of people would be appalled at this image, Eugene thinks distantly - appalled at them, taking a break from the biggest event the kingdom had known in decades, which is also coincidentally their own wedding; at Rapunzel, the Princess, sitting on the grass shoeless with a priceless white dress which could easily be stained. But what Eugene sees, instead, is the love of his life -his wife now!-, radiant precisely because she's not what people expect of her. What he sees is Rapunzel being free, and happy, and in love, and he's struck all over again by the fact that it's him she's looking at with so much fondness.

Read on ao3

"We've got approximately five minutes before the entire kingdom collapses because of our absence," Eugene announces jokingly after closing the door to the gardens behind them.

"Five minutes?" Rapunzel laughs, already skipping over one of the trees as the moon shines bright over them. "When did you become an optimist?"

As she says that, she reaches the tree and sits under it, her beautiful wedding dress scrunching up with the movement. A lot of people would be appalled at this image, Eugene thinks distantly - appalled at them, taking a break from the biggest event the kingdom had known in decades, which is also coincidentally their own wedding; at Rapunzel, the Princess, sitting on the grass shoeless with a priceless white dress which could easily be stained. But what Eugene sees, instead, is the love of his life -his wife now!-, radiant precisely because she's not what people expect of her. What he sees is Rapunzel being free, and happy, and in love, and he's struck all over again by the fact that it's him she's looking at with so much fondness.

When did he become an optimist, she asks?

"Probably when you first hit me with your frying pan," he says, and he can hear the overwhelming affection in his own voice. Rapunzel smiles, lighting up his life with her happiness, and he can't go sit next to her quickly enough, not caring about the state of his clothes either. She takes his hand in hers, putting her head against his shoulder, and he thinks life can't be more perfect than now.

"We're married," Rapunzel tells him breathlessly, fiddling with his ring carefully.

"We are." He looks down at her face, and sees the way her eyes are shining as she plays with his hand gently. His own eyes feel a little wet at this, because the days when he could control his emotions are long gone, and he still can't believe how terrifyingly wonderful it is to love and be loved by Rapunzel. He's her husband.

Time seems to be passing too quickly and soon, he knows they'll have to go back to the party - but for now, it feels like it's only the two of them, sitting outside with the fresh evening air, revelling in each other's company, like they will do for the rest of their lives. Yup, his eyes are definitely wet now.

"This is the best day of my life," he repeats, because he had already whispered it in her ear when they had their first dance together, and the sentiment holds true.

She snuggles closer to him, smiling, and whispers "It's mine too", only for him to hear. But he also sees the frown she lets appear for barely a second; he feels her shoulders slump fractionally against him, before she stops herself. And Eugene didn't wait to get married to understand Rapunzel more than anyone - he knows exactly what's bothering her, what she's trying to hide even now.

"Cassandra's going to be here tomorrow, Sunshine."

"Am I that obvious?" she laughs, before shifting to lay her head on his legs, gazing up to him from this new position. Gently, he fixes the crease of her dress near the collar, and takes that chance to move one rebellious strand of hair out of her face.

"I know you," he laughs, "and, don't repeat it, but I wish she had been here too."

Going by the emotion in Rapunzel's eyes, he knows she may not repeat it, but she's definitely going to paint it somewhere. To be truly honest, he can't even pretend to be annoyed - he is sad that Cass wasn't here today. They had planned everything months ago, and she had assured them she would come back a few days before the celebration. But, a week ago, a storm prevented her from taking the boat she had planned to use, and though she could still make her way to Corona thanks to Fidella, it delayed her enough that she knew she wouldn't be there on time.

Her letters -because yes, she writes to Eugene too, even if it's less often than to Rapunzel- were deeply apologetic, and Eugene has no doubt that Cassandra wishes she could be here too, that all three of them regret the circumstances. While Rapunzel doesn't want to complain, he had seen all day through these little hesitations and quickly hidden frowns how much she was missing her best friend.

"Do you think she would have enjoyed running after the cake?" he wonders aloud, trying to lighten the subject, and he manages it when Rapunzel can't contain her giggles at the idea. That was certainly a moment they won't ever forget, and that no one had anticipated.

"I'm hesitating between her catching the cake, and her standing around and laughing at you," Rapunzel finally answers, brushing out the tears at the corners of her eyes.

"You're definitely underestimating her ability to do both."

Rapunzel laughs again, and they spend the next minutes debating this scenario, before recounting the events from not even a few hours ago. They lived through practically everything together today, but hearing Rapunzel describes the day still feels inherently different from what he has experienced. He loves to see her face liven up as she talks, loves to see a blush grow on her cheeks with the cold and the excitement she can't contain.

He loves her. The word doesn't feel like enough to describe his feelings, and yet says everything essential.

Soon, they realise that they have to go back to the party. They already took so long, and Eugene is sure that his in-laws are the only reason no one has come to bother them yet, but the peace won't last and, anyway, they want to have fun and dance again - they just needed a little break. Eugene already feels more energised than before, and he's about to joke something about it, when a movement on his right distracts him. When he looks, an easily recognisable silhouette makes him smile even more than he was already.

"Looks like your last wedding gift is here, Sunshine," he says, amusement shining through his eyes and turning into a real chuckle when Rapunzel scrambles to her knees, and gets a glimpse of Cassandra - who looks just as surprised to see them here. If Eugene had to guess, he'd say she probably wanted to sneak in and change before coming to the party, and hadn't expected to find anyone in the gardens, least of all the bride and the groom themselves.

"Cass?" Rapunzel whispers, incredulity and happiness plain to see on her face.

The scene seems to be frozen for an instant, as Cassandra looks at her with as much wonder as she does, eyes softening visibly even from a distance. She lets the bag she was carrying fall to the ground, and opens her arms herself, inviting Rapunzel for a hug before she can try to ask if Cass wants one.

"Hey, Raps," is all she manages to say before Rapunzel literally pounces on her - and despite her preparation, Cassandra falls to the ground with her in her arms, both of them laughing.

Eugene gets up too, cheeks hurting from how hard he's smiling. Rapunzel's joy makes his heart flutter like nothing else ever does, and he's so glad that she's going to have exactly the wedding she wanted, with her best friend at her side too.

"A hand?" he jokes, when the hug ends and Cassandra and Rapunzel are still sitting on the ground. Cassandra raises an eyebrow, but even she can't maintain their usual game of pretend, and grabs his hand as Rapunzel jumps up by herself.

"Did you finally learn manners, Fitzherbert?" she asks without any heat, and he gasps dramatically, putting one of his hands over his heart while Rapunzel grabs the free one.

"I'm sorry, but I'm Eugene Der Sonne now." Saying it out loud always makes his heart skip a beat, and going by the way Rapunzel squeezes his hand, hers too. He didn't have to change his name, they could have found a way around the tradition, but there's something truly special in the way Rapunzel will forever be a part of his identity now - and though he spent a lot of these last years trying to reclaim Fitzherbert, he can't wait to explore this new path with Rapunzel, as her husband.

"My god are you two sappy tonight," Cassandra groans, and it's so unexpected that they all laugh.

"It's our wedding Cass, what did you expect?" Rapunzel retorts, and they begin to make their way back inside.

As they talk, Eugene takes in Cassandra's appearance - she looks tired, probably from riding all day to be there before midnight. Except for that, though, she looks… Good. Happy, in a way she hadn't been when she left. He notices a new scar near her ear, but her adventures are probably a subject for another day. Anyhow, it's a relief he didn't know he needed - he was hoping Cassandra was okay out there, but having it be a certainty feels like a weight off of his shoulders.

"Oh!" Rapunzel exclaims. "I have an outfit ready for you Cass!"

"Uh," Cassandra cringes, and Eugene knows she's looking for excuses, her hatred of dresses only inferior to her hatred of fancy ceremony dresses.

"Don't worry, it's a suit!" Rapunzel says. "If that's okay? It has little swords on the cuffs."

Of course that convinces her, and before Eugene can even realise what's happening, Rapunzel is off to find the suit, and he's alone in the hallways with Cassandra, who looks as stunned as he currently feels.

"She didn't change, did she?" Cass sighs, the gleam in her eyes betraying her true sentiments on the matter.

The thing is, Rapunzel did change, they all did. They grew, and learned, and became better people because of what they went through. But once all was said and done, once Rapunzel saw how cruel and dangerous the world could get, she still chose to see it for its beauty, letting her optimism guide and inspire others too. So she did change; and she didn't, in a way. Eugene thinks Cassandra knows that.

"I'm glad you're here," he says, giving her a light push with his shoulder, for which she glares at him as if he just killed someone.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she snorts, pushing him back two times harder, drawing a yelp and half-hearted protestations from Eugene. "I'm only here for Rapunzel. And the cake."

"Ah! Do we have a story about that!" Eugene exclaims, and like that, they start talking about what she missed, the jokes flowing between them natural and oddly comforting. Soon, Rapunzel will be back with the outfit, and they'll have to go back to the party and explain why they disappeared for so long, but for now it feels like nothing has changed, while everything has. Perhaps that was how Eugene would describe his wedding - nothing had changed, because they had loved each other way before any ceremony tried to make it official, but everything had, from his name to the ring now adorning his finger. This is the best day of his life because he knows it's the beginning of many others that he can't wait to discover at Rapunzel's side.

His smile must have been a little too sappy again, because Cassandra makes a fake gagging noise and he has to chase her down the hall to make her regret it.

[moviewarfare]

A Review of “Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021)”

The movie that hardcore dedicated Zack fans fought for has finally been released. I'm not a huge Zack fan and I honestly didn't like Batman v Superman (BvS), although I did like Man of Steel, I also supported the movie because I believe the movie released should've been Zack's true vision. I watched Justice League (2017) in theatres when it came out and thought it was a very bland movie that had very obvious reshoots from another director in it. If I had to give that movie a rating then I would give it a 1.5/5. The premise is still the same "Fueled by his restored faith in humanity and inspired by Superman's (Henry Cavill) selfless act, Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck) enlists newfound ally Diana Prince (Gal Gadot) to face an even greater threat. Together, Batman and Wonder Woman work quickly to recruit a team to stand against this newly awakened enemy. Despite the formation of an unprecedented league of heroes-Batman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman (Jason Momoa), Cyborg (Ray Fisher) and The Flash (Ezra Miller) -- it may be too late to save the planet from an assault of catastrophic proportions". So does this live up to the hype or is it overrated?

Let's get this out of the way first, this version is infinitely better than the 2017 version. The best scenes in the 2017 version were all Snyder from watching this version. I did wonder how different this version was going to be from 2017 one but it feels completely different. I would say 70% of the 2017 version is in this movie but the editing, removal of Whedon scenes and addition of new scenes changes this into one with tonal consistency and coherent storytelling. Since this version is longer, it also feels like there are more build-up and tension throughout. Due to this every scene that was also in the 2017 one now feel a lot better and earned. The screenplay is still written by Chris Terrio but unlike BvS it feels a lot more engaging and not unironically silly. Some powerful and emotional lines here resonated with me which is quite surprising.

Additionally, the action scenes are more enjoyable in this one due to its R rating and how it's longer now. The biggest change is to the action in the climax where instead of in 2017 where Superman does everything, the team all contribute so it feels like everyone was relevant to the team. Junkie XL returns to score this version from BvS and it is amazing. His score adds a lot of impacts compared to Danny Elfman's 2017 version. It's a lot more memorable and makes scenes feel more exhilarating. There is also an Aquaman and Flash theme of the sort that sounds great albeit not as iconic sounding as say the Wonder Woman, Lex Luthor or Superman theme from BvS. The cinematography by Fabian Wagner is pretty good for the most part and there are still those gorgeous shots that we expect from Snyder. The humour from the 2017 version is now toned down substantially so no more "wHaT iS BRunCh? or Flash landing on Wonder Woman boobs, thank god. Surprisingly, there is still a fair amount of humour here compared to BvS which some say was lacking in a lot of fun. The humour in this version land a lot better and is the right amount as well which add some levity to a mostly serious natured story.

The biggest improvement this version has is the characterization. Cyborg has a proper fleshed out arc in this version. You have a greater understanding of his dislike for his dad and his feelings about his current situation but still having a believable development where he grows to accept who he is now. He is the heart and soul of this movie in thanks to Ray Fisher's wonderful performance.  They turned a character I barely cared about even before the 2017 version, into one of the most interesting and memorable characters. His relationship with his dad played by Joe Morton is some of the best aspects of the Justice League. They also conveyed his power very well and made it seem incredibly powerful. Flash is also improved a lot as he now has more to do. Despite still being the comic relief of the team, he is no longer unbearably annoying or treated as trash compared to Superman and is now actually doing super cool things that make him way more interesting. Ezra Miller is quite lovable in those comedic moments which are genuinely funny but when the serious moments come, he delivers a great performance.

Aquaman has some slight improvements as well. More scenes are explaining his reluctance to become King of Atlantis and also some more scenes showing his stone-cold outwards personality but hidden kindness compared to the others. I also love his interactions with the Flash including a small scene where Flash is asking Aquaman which looks better which is just a nice interaction. He also does a bit more aqua looking powers in the neat climax. Wonder Woman has more action scenes that make her more badass which is nice. Her animosity and rivalry against Steppenwolf is a lot clearer as well. She also has some nice interactions with nearly every member of the league including Superman and Alfred. Batman has a naturally continuing story from BvS where he is the one who is trying to assemble the team. His interaction with Alfred are some of the best with Alfred questioning him not doing things with a reason but from guilt instead. Unfortunately, his action scenes don't live up to that of BvS and he doesn't change at all from beginning to end. Superman appears near the end, so there isn't much to his character arc or story since it was just beginning. He wears a black suit in this version but it doesn't have much significance in terms of story or reason behind it apart from it looks cool I guess? Batman and Superman the most iconic characters are the weakest characters in the story surprisingly. Steppenwolf (Ciarán Hinds) has clearer motives this time around as he now wants to collect these Motherboxes to get back into his master, Darkseid, good graces again. His new design makes him look more alien and his action scenes make him more fearsome. He is a better villain compared to the 2017 version but is still just someone for the league to fight rather than an interesting villain.

However, some characters don't improve in this version including Lois Lane (Amy Adams) who in every scene is just mourning Superman. She is described as a key character but doesn't do anything else apart from hogging screen time. Commissioner Gordon (JK Simmons) has fewer scenes in this version compared to 2017 and both just involve him talking. Makes me wonder why JK Simmons bulked up for the role just for talking scenes.

The 4-hour length of this movie is honestly fine since it is releasing on streaming and since fans have been fighting for ages, they might as well see everything that Zack shot. However, in terms of the story, the movie could still convey important aspects without having to be 4 hours. There are a lot of scenes that drag on for too long or pointless scenes that don't add much which could easily be cut. The pacing of the first half is incredibly slow as well and it takes a fair amount of time for things to start picking up. There are also some scenes with slo-mo and some vocal song in the background that are kind of cringy and go on for way too long as well. The team don't even assemble until over 2 hours. The ending also goes on for too long which is weird as there is a very satisfying ending but then it keeps going. This new additional shot ending from Zack is cool but it feels slapped on. There are also some scenes concerning a certain character that occurs over halfway through the movie but is just really distracting from the main plot. They then appear at the ending but it feels kind of unnecessary for the story. I don't particularly mind the 4:3/square ratio that this movie has but it does take a while to get used to and I still find 16:9 would look better on my TV. Finally, some of the CGI looks bad and unpolished which is slightly distracting because they are very noticeable.

Overall, I was incredibly surprised at how much I enjoyed this version of the movie. I'm not a big fan of Zack Snyder but this might be his best work so far. I am glad he got to release his vision of Justice League and hope that this isn't a complete one-off thing. This was a great win for fans and was worth the long, gruelling fight.

[nosleepuntilvacation]

Hi! I've got another Mettaton×reader request for you, if you don't mind. The setting is that Mettaton gets badly damaged, and of course his crush is worried sick. They insist on helping Alphys with the repairs, even if it's small things like handing her the right tool or something. The repairs take a week or two, and the crush just camps over at Alphys' lab the whole time. But anyway! The scenario I want you to actually write is when Mettaton is finally rebooted and wakes up. (cont.)

(cont.) So when Mettaton comes to, his crush is sitting next to whatever table/bed/thing he’s laying on. They go “Thank god!” and probably tear up a bit, smiling like a fool. Mettaton is like, touched that they’ve waited for him like that. When he asks about it, the crush gets all flustered. Mettaton ofc teases them, and as the conversation/banter goes on they accidentally mention at some point that they helped Alphys with the repairs… Que more flustering and eventually (cont. IM SORRY)

(cont.) eventually they end up telling him how much he means to them. In their nervousness, they get a bit rambly and end up confessing their romantic feelings to him. Then they hang their head and don’t look up again until Mettaton tells that he feels the same. Then they’re both awkward and happy and they smooch and stuff. // Sorry if this long, 3-ask explanation is unclear and sorry this is so dramatic. Thank you for considering this.             

…this has been sitting in my inbox for over a year hasn’t it

dishonor on me, dishonor on my miltank, etc. etc. etc.

But I guess it’s better late than never…?

Below the cut: A Storm Leads to a Rainbow

(TW: Discussions and descriptions of a car accident, and the emotional and physical injuries resulting from it; brief mention of alcohol)

Two synthetic eyes open, and their owner groans, clutching his forehead. “Ugh… what happened?”

He looks in his immediate line of sight. The space-printed sheets on the bed he currently occupies, the posters displaying different franchises he likes (his own included), the star-shaped stickers on the ceiling… yep, this is definitely his guest room in Alphys’ place.

“But why–?” He reaches down and touches his hip. Just as he suspected, his charging cable is plugged securely into there. He barely has enough time to register this before he hears a familiar voice.

“Mettaton? Thank god!”

He sits up and looks over towards the source of the voice…

…and he promptly sees you sitting in one of his pink beanbag chairs, smiling like a weight had just been lifted away. And was he seeing things, or were those tears in your eyes?

“[Y/N]? I wasn’t expecting to see you here, sweetheart.” He smirks a bit. “Have you appointed yourself the president of my fan club? I’ll have you know that you’re competing with me for that position.”

“Heh…” To you, the sound of his voice is exactly what you need right now. You pull out your phone and open your text message program. “Just gonna let Alphys know you’re awake. She’s off jogging with Papyrus.”

After a few chuckles at his own joke, his smile soon becomes more genuine. “Thank you for thinking of me, though.”

“Of course.” You put your phone away after sending a message, and your smile becomes a little more sad as you try to ward off the rock forming in your throat. “When I heard about what had happened to you, I was so worried, and I couldn’t just…” You take a few deep breaths to keep the dam from bursting.

At this point, he can’t help but frown. “If you don’t mind me asking… what did happen to me, anyway? The last thing I remember was Bryan and I driving home, and before I knew it, our car tipped sideways. My whole body was in pain, I heard Bryan calling Alphys… and then I blacked out.” His hand clenches the mattress. “Is Bryan okay, by the way?”

“Yes. He had to visit the ER, but he wasn’t hurt too badly, and they let him go home after a few days. Anyway…”

After swallowing your nerves, you begin to explain the full story.

A little over a week ago, you had been visiting Alphys and Undyne and watching a movie with them. At one point in the movie, Alphys received a panicked phone call from Bryan, an orange mammal monster who seemed to be Mettaton’s frenemy of sorts. The two had been driving together to their respective homes after a production at the local theater when a drunk driver veered into their lane and crashed into Bryan’s car. When Alphys headed out to help, the scene indeed looked grisly, with roadside assistance having to help put the car upright again - and it was clear that at least half of the car would need repairs. Paramedics were helping Bryan into an ambulance…

“…and when she brought you back, I almost couldn’t look.” You shudder. “You looked like something chewed you up and spit you back out again!”

With a sneer, Mettaton folds his arms. “Oh, come on. I don’t taste that bad! Ask anyone who’s ever had one of my world-famous face steaks!” He taps his chin in thought. “Although, maybe I shouldn’t have made them so expensive at first…”

You chuckle nervously; at the time, you definitely wouldn’t have laughed if someone had made that joke, but now that Mettaton’s awake, the whole thing feels a little easier to put in the past.

“Honestly, though…” His expression softens into concern. “…my body looked that bad when Alphys brought me in?” He holds his hands in front of his face and wiggles his fingers, before peeking under the blankets and presumably checking his feet in a similar way. Next, he grabs a handheld mirror from the nightstand and studies his face, brushing his hair out of one of his eyes.

“Yeah…” You wipe away a few tears forming near your eyes. “If Alphys and I hadn’t fixed you up right away…” A shudder takes over your spine; you’re still not entirely sure how all the intricacies of his body work, and this was one situation where experimenting was not an option.

For a moment, Mettaton is silent…

…only to give you an odd look.

“Wait a minute… you helped Alphys with the repairs?”

“Uh–! Well!” Oh god, does he already know what you think of him? “She did most of the big work! I was just there to help hold you still, or to get her the right tools, or to keep an eye on you to make sure you were still stable while she was out getting more supplies and stuff. Undyne helped, too, when she wasn’t at work. Alphys and I took turns watching over you the first couple of nights, while you were still in somewhat critical condition…”

Mettaton blinks. “You even stayed over?”

“Y-yeah… I haven’t actually been home since I heard about the crash.”

By now, you can feel the floodgates open, tears rolling down your face as you explain yourself.

“I wanted to help Alphys as much as I could… I was so scared. You could have died if we hadn’t done enough in time, and if I hadn’t helped and you ended up dying… I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself if that happened. Especially because you’re my friend, and, well…”

Despite the more reasonable side of your mind not feeling ready to say it, your emotions are in full force right now, and you just blurt it out before you can stop yourself.

“I don’t know when it started, but I really wanted to tell you I love you.”

And with that, you lower your head and finally allow yourself to let out some quiet sobs as the many emotions of the past several days swamp over you: relief from knowing that Mettaton is most likely okay now, fear and sadness from the fact that he probably wouldn’t have made it if Alphys hadn’t gotten there in time, and that hard-to-describe sensation of knowing that, in the heat of the moment, you just confessed your romantic feelings towards your longtime crush. Your body and mind are just frozen like a slow computer as you try to quell this maelstrom of emotions.

It gets to the point where you can barely register it as Mettaton whispers your name and gently takes hold of your hand.

“Shh… everything’s going to be okay, darling. It was horrifying, and I was scared, too… but I feel so much better now.” A smooth thumb strokes the top of your hand as he continues. “In fact… as of late, I’ve realized that I’m in love with you, too.”

“R-really…?” You finally look up; despite your likely looking like an emotional wreck right now, Mettaton doesn’t seem to judge you for it, instead smiling.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to tell you for a little while; you’ve been such a wonderful friend to me. And knowing that you would go this far to help save my life… honestly, I’d do the same for you.”

A cheerful laugh escapes your throat; you’re not sure what to say, but you still manage a “Thank you…”

“And thank you, beautiful.”

For a few moments, neither of you are sure of what else to say amidst the glow of relief and new love, but eventually, Mettaton has a thought.

“Darling, when all of this has blown over a little more… would you, perhaps, like to go on a date with me? I can show you a few of my favorite places in town, and you can show me your favorites, if you’d like.”

“Sure.” There are still a few tears, but they come from a much happier place now. It’ll probably take a little while for everyone’s fears to disappear completely, but what’s important is that everyone is safe right now, and a potential tragedy has been averted.

Before you know it, you wrap your arms around Mettaton in a big hug, which he soon returns in kind before leaning in close to your face. He stops himself and looks into your eyes as if asking for permission, and when you smile and nod, he presses his lips to yours. It’s not the smoothest of kisses, but most first kisses typically aren’t.

Either way, you’re definitely not complaining.

You’re so lost in the kiss that you don’t hear the sound of the front door opening and closing in the other room, nor do you hear the sound of footsteps. Shortly afterwards, though, a small eep does get your attention.

The two of you break off the kiss and look towards the doorway, where Alphys is standing, still in her jogging outfit, with wide eyes.

“Oh! Uh… am I interrupting something?”

As you wave hello to Alphys, Mettaton gently smiles. “Alphys, darling, I’m so glad to see you. And don’t worry; I think everything’s going to be just fine.”

Alphys returns the smile. “Yeah… I’m so glad you’re awake. I’ll probably want to keep an eye on you for the next day or two, though. Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“That’s all right. As long as I have everyone cheering for me, I can absolutely manage this!”

You gently squeeze his hand, and he smiles at you.

After a second or two, Alphys pulls out her phone. “So, uh, want to order some pizza or something? I can shower while we wait for it to get here.”

Mettaton rests a hand on his soul casing. “Darling, I haven’t eaten in days, so that sounds absolutely perfect right now.”

“That sounds good to me too,” you say with a nod.

“Great! Let me open the app…”

As you all begin to figure out what you want, you can already picture the delicious taste of the food in your mind. Not only that, you can also picture some of the exciting, lovely things in your and Mettaton’s future… a future that you helped to secure for him.

Sometimes, even a harsh rainstorm can leave behind a beautiful rainbow.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Stuck

Legolas x Reader

Lady luck is a bitch.

You’d never been a clumsy elf, nor has anyone ever considered you to be accident prone or anything of the sort, but damn were you unlucky sometimes.

For example, there was this one time when you had been out and about scouting back when you’d still lived in Mirkwood. Nothing could sneak up on you, and you had very fast reflexes, yet Lady Luck simply wasn’t smiling down on you. Instead of making a quick end for the filthy arachnid trespassing on your borders, you managed to get your foot caught in a root. Naturally you toppled over in a very ungraceful heap on the ground, bow laying a good meter away beneath some of the twisting roots of the great Mirkwood trees.

The spider had attacked you in your moment of weakness, and had it not been for the other members of your scouting team, you’d probably be injured if not dead. It was quite a large bugger after all.

Another time you were on your way to practice shooting with Legolas (a friend since the two of you were mere Elflings), when someone passing by with a platter of assorted juices and foods (probably a servant of some noble family) managed to run straight into you and drench you in those vibrant colored beverages. Suffice to say, you were quite interestingly colored when you did finally arrive on the training grounds.

There have been other examples of your extreme lack of luck, not all of them life endangering or silly, and both fortunately and unfortunately, this one was an instance of more embarrassment and slight helplessness than anything else.

You’d been trekking around the designated campsite for the night, searching for any unseen threats or to-be issues, when the ground suddenly gave out from beneath you. You only then realized that you somehow missed the drop of ground in front of you, and ended up rolling down the hillside and bumping your head harshly against a fallen log.

Everything around you momentarily spun and blurred, and you could only hope that you didn’t manage to get yourself a concussion in such a menial part of your day. This here is supposed to be one of the easiest and most safe of tasks, and here you were, finding a way to do something dumb once again.

Slowly as to not further your daze, you rise to your feet. You steady yourself with a hand against a nearby tree, simply taking a moment to breathe and will the haze away. Once you’re sure the disorientation is over with, you run a hand through your hair and check for any blood possibly staining your long elven locks. Lucky you see none, and then you begin your climb back up to the main level of land.

When you reach the top, you give yourself a mental pat on the back. Despite all the obstacles life likes to throw at you, you always find a way to prevail. Only this time, the unknown forces at work decide to give you an even harder time.

You had climbed up a tree to finish your surveillance and were making your way down. You gripped the last branch with your hands and swung down before a telling tug at your hair alerts you to a new, more annoying problem.

Instinctively one of your hands fly up to your hair which has somehow entangled into the low-hanging branch of the tree. Knowing that it isn’t too bad yet, you swing back a bit and try to coax it to release on it’s own, gently smoothing your hand along the branches that encapture your hair.

Only, this seems to make the problem worse, so you try twisting to the left a bit to see if that does the trick, but suddenly the simple tangles become full on knots clinging onto the branches like a tightened rope used for climbing. A noise of annoyance leaves you as you begin to tug at it, hoping that maybe force will do the trick, but the branch is much to thick. Very quickly your clinging arm begins to tire, and you reach up and grasp the branch again, your toes barely reaching the ground as you try to stabilize yourself in order to fix the issue.

None of your daggers are serrated in any way, and there is no way you’re going to cut your hair off, so you simply stand there on your toes and wait. Eventually the others will begin to worry for your sudden disappearance, and you can only pray that it is Aragorn who comes across you. Otherwise, this will most definitely be quite embarrassing because Gimli will certainly tease you and is much to short to help, and Legolas… you don’t even want to consider the mortification you will feel if he is the one to find you. Aragorn might tease a bit or maybe laugh, but you have no emotional bond with him (at least not like that) and he is more business than some of the others.

Of course, like stated before Lady Luck doesn’t quite like you, so when someone does eventually stumble across you it’s the exact Ellon that you’d been praying it not to be. You’d heard his voice first, calling out your name with tell tale worry ringing in his calls, and for a split second you considered not saying anything. Though, your conscience won out, for you simply cannot put him through such panic when you have means to stop it.

Eventually you call back, yelling his name and saying “Over here!” To alert him to your whereabouts. It works, and mere moments later you hear the sound of feet running towards your location.

“Y/N!” The relief in his voice is clear, and it only makes you feel more ashamed for considering silence.

When he finally comes into viewing distance his eyes take in your state quickly, scanning for any wounds or dishevelment, and then his eyes land on your poor hair.

The embarrassment is instant and obvious, with warm embarrassment climbing up your neck and spreading to your now warm face. Your fingers grip more tightly at the branch which threatens to spring upward and take your hair with it at any second, and you shift on your toes as it raises ever so slightly. You’re barely holding on at this point.

“H-Help!” You manage to squeak out despite your humiliation.

Legolas’ reaction is instant as he carefully makes his way over, grasping the branch and pulling it down more to relieve the pressure pulling on your head. His other hand flies to his side and he pulls out some sort of blade, and he immediately cuts the branch from it’s tree.

You aren’t quite sure how long you’d been standing there, but the relief is instant and you sink down to your knees with the branch still entangled in your, normally, graceful and beautiful elven locks.

A moment of complete silence goes by, it seems like the two of you are simply trying to process what just happened, before you release a puff of short laughter. “Well this is extremely embarrassing.”

You reach both your hands up and try to start working the debris from your hair, but your efforts provide no relief.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly, kneeling down besides you. He grasps your hands in his delicately and pulls them down to rest in your lap.

“I’m fine, Legolas. I’ve wounded nothing other than my dignity… and maybe my head.”

Legolas nods once, squeezing your hands in his own before releasing them in favor of grasping your chin to tilt your head down, left, right, and back up. “I see no signs of blood or breaks of the skin, only a head full of bark and tangles.” Humor laces in his tone as he lets go of your chin, reaching up to begin working on the mess that is your hair.

You don’t say anything in reply. Instead you tilt your head downwards and slouch your shoulders to give him better access to the trouble area.

He hums his approval at the change in position but halts nonetheless. “This is going to be rather time consuming, and with your current posture you will tire and become sore quickly…” His observations are quite sharp, as per usual, because you can already feel your back protesting against the slouching.

A few moments of nothing pass by before he changes from sitting on his knees to having his legs out in front of him, spread apart, and he leans back against the tree that had previously held you captive. He then looks at you expectantly.

It takes a second for you to catch up with his intentions, and you, albeit hesitantly, slowly lower yourself in between his legs in a seated position when you do. You can feel your cheeks warm with color at the more intimate nature of everything. It’s enough to make your heart race.

Without delay he sets to work with skilled and deft fingers, unweaving and loosening tangles while pulling out twigs, leaves, and other things from your hair as he goes. Very soon you begin to feel the pressure and weight of unwelcome object disappearing from your hair, and the relief of it all is almost instant. Your left hand comes up to rest on his knee as you shift slightly to move a rock poking into your thigh, and once you’re comfortable again you leave your hand there and allow your eyes to close.

The feeling of his fingers running through your hair and massaging your scalp is an experience that can only be described as ethereal and absolutely wonderful. A soft sigh of appreciation unconsciously escapes you, and a chill runs down your spine when his finger tips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck. His fingers begin to run through your debris free hair to smooth out the tangles, and though they occasionally get caught in a particularly stubborn grove of knotted hair, you still never feel an ounce of pain. He’s more than careful of damaging and tugging on your hair.

You then feel him gathering some sections of your hair to braid up into your usual hair style and, once again, you hum your appreciation and gently squeeze his knee. When you do this his ministrations on your hair subside and it seems that everything around you goes completely still.

You can hear his quiet breathing behind you and feel the way his fingers stray from your hair to glide up and down along the smooth skin of your neck. Afraid to break whatever spell has come over him, you remain as still as a statue and let your eyes fall shut once more as you simply enjoy the feeling of his feather light touches.

Ever so slowly do his fingers begin to move down further until they skim along your sides, thank heavens you aren’t all that ticklish, and trace patterns along your waist down to your hips. There’s a rustle from behind you and you can suddenly feel his breath fanning out across your neck. It’s like time has slowed in that moment as you anticipate his next moves. His lips graze the skin of your neck once, as if testing the waters, before he presses a full on kiss there.

Your senses are practically on fire, his mouth leaving a trail of burning flesh in it’s wake as he peppers small kisses along the expanse of your nape. His hands grasp your sides and he pulls you back so you’re pressed flush against his chest.

It feels as if your whole body is tingling, your nerves alight and instincts screaming at you to turn and kiss the daylights out of him. But still you remain in place and relax against him, relishing in the feeling of the hard planes of his chest and sculpted arms hugged around your waist.

“Legolas…?” You finally whisper after a minute or two passes.

He doesn’t say anything right away, but you feel his arms around your midsection tighten slightly. “I hope I haven’t scared you away…” He replies just as quietly after tightening his hold on you. “I suppose I’ve let my self-control slip.”

Instead of replying, you instead opt to turn in his arms. His hold loosens and he lets his hands rest on your hips while you kneel between his legs and look up at him with a blush on your cheeks.

“I suppose you have.”

He doesn’t reply, but your next actions require no verbal confirmation.

Your right hand comes up to rest on his cheek, your thumb smoothing out across his soft skin while you search his eyes with your own. His lovely blue eyes that somehow always manage to capture your attention, deep enough to get lost in yet light enough to find solace with.

And then your eyes slide shut, as do his, and you lean forward until your lips finally meet. It’s a feeling like no other. A feeling that wraps you up and warms you from the inside out, filling you with love and excitement while also taming your negative emotions like doubt and uncertainty.

Your left hand, the one not caressing his face, moves up to entangle in his hair as you press him further against the tree, and you press your chest against his more firmly.

Eventually though, the need to breathe breaks you apart, and, not wanting to look at him with such an ashamed face, you press your forehead against his shoulder and let your hands drop to press against this chest. You can feel his heart hammering against his chest when you do, and it brings a small smile to your face.

“It seems I’ve been worried over nothing.” A new voice registers from somewhere behind you. Immediately you tense up, recognizing the voice of Aragorn, and the blush from before returns tenfold.

Legolas is no better, you presume, since you can feel his skin warming and back straightening up.

“Aragorn, my friend, I didn’t realize you were there.” He states rather awkwardly after clearing his throat.

“Clearly.” Comes his dry reply.

You say nothing, hoping that perhaps the ground will open up and swallow you hole, but of course that doesn’t happen.

“Do I offer any comfort in saying that this area is all clear?” You ask quietly, not removing your forehead from Legolas’ shoulder.

Aragorn laughs, and you relax at the sound right away.

“If that’s so, then I’ll leave you be. Dinner will be soon, though, and the hobbits don’t much like waiting.”

Legolas nods above you, and with that you hear the distinct crunching of leaves signifying Aragorn’s swift exit.

“Well that was positively mortifying.” You say once you’re sure he’s out of earshot, lifting your head to look up at the Ellon whom you’re still pressed up against.

“More so than being attacked by a tree?” He inquires with a humored quirk in his brow.

You nod your head once. “I presume no one will be looking for us anymore.” You state offhandedly, reaching up to play with his hair bashfully as you look off to the side.

“No, I suppose they will not.”

Your gaze flickers back to his face which now adorns a fond smile.

“Then…” You trail off, tugging gently at the ends of his hair.

His hands press against your cheeks hurriedly as he pulls you forward and presses his lips against yours once more

[misc-headcanons]

heyyy I (hopefully) finally got a chance to make a request! uuhh I don't wanna be greedy and ask for a full on scenario, but could I maybe get a short little thing about Basil Hawkins flirting with a lady-reader through a fortune telling session? ://0 thank you v much! (if it's a completely uninspiring request you're more than free to pass on this since I haven't seen you write anything else for him, and maybe you'll have more fun with something else filling my request slot)

(Commissioned by @supernova-hcs-art ! Tysm, this is my first-ever commission and I'm very excited about it 😚)

Hawkins/F!Reader: Expression

Word Count: 1426

Basil Hawkins was a hard man to read, even to those closest to him. Whether he was happy, upset, scheming, or simply looking off absent-mindedly in the distance, he naturally kept his thoughts and emotions behind a stone-faced mask. Normally, he didn't view this as a problem; the less emotion he showed, the more he was recognized as a cold and calculated man that was not to be trifled with. When it came to a certain matter though, he hated just how difficult it was to broadcast what he was feeling: ____.

She was captivating in every way, always managing to make his mouth a bit dry and his pale skin the subtlest bit of pink just by speaking to him. He hoped that telling her how he felt would put him at ease, but he'd never confessed before; hell, he hadn't ever felt attracted to someone like this outside of a platonic appreciation of beauty or personality. Not only that, but he didn't want to overwhelm her by confessing out of the blue when she had no idea of what he was really feeling, thanks to that stoic expression of his. No, he needed to be subtle about this. And when ____ had asked him if he would give her a tarot reading, it seemed that fate had given him a golden opportunity.

Hawkins silently opened the door to his private cabin and let ____ inside to sit at a large circular table in one corner of the room. She marveled at the intricately painted art on the wooden table's face, which was a beautiful dark blue that was speckled with gold and silver stars, a brilliant sun, and a crescent moon across from it. It blended in perfectly with the rest of Hawkins's room, with its iridescent crystal statuettes and shards, indigo curtains, and the heavy-yet-soothing smell of incense smoke and lavender. "So," she remarked, turning to face Hawkins with a smirk. "This is where the magic happens?"

Hawkins shut the door, ignoring how white his knuckles were when he gripped the handle; how did she make his heart race like this with just one glimpse of her face? "It's...not exactly magic," he replied, walking to the chair opposite hers and taking his deck of cards out of his coat pocket. The familiar tingling of his fingertips as he held the cards eased some of the giddy anxiety in his chest after he'd heard her laugh at his response. 

"Fair enough," ____ replied, settling into her chair and running her fingers over the image of the sun in front of her. "This is where the 'interpretations based off of probability and dozens of varying factors' happens." She watched Hawkins expertly shuffle his cards, admiring how graceful his movements were as the cards flipped through his slender, gloved fingers. "Is there anything I need to do? Just so you can get a better reading from me?"

Hawkins pursed his lips slightly as he had the idea to try flirting with her for the first time, just to subtly let her know how he felt about her. "Performing a tarot reading for someone I'm already familiar with doesn't require much," he replied. "And...we are very familiar with one another, are we not?"

____ shrugged and nodded. "I'd say so," she replied casually. "When you're fighting and traveling the seas together in close quarters on a ship, it'd be hard for us not to become close with each other." 

Hawkins's face remained unchanged, but internally he felt a twinge of disappointment; apparently he'd been too subtle and indirect with that approach. He'd have to think of something a bit more bold. His attention turned to the cards, and he set down the shuffled stack in the center of the table. "Cut the cards with your dominant hand, please," he instructed. ____ complied and when she reached out to pick up the cards, her fingers brushed against his. Hawkins felt much warmer under his ruffled shirt collar, and he gently pulled down his neckline to try and get some relief. 

____ noticed this and raised an eyebrow. "You're warm, too? It is kind of muggy in here," she remarked, setting the cut neck down to pull down her shirt a bit as well. "Might be the incense, though."

Hawkins was externally cool, but internally screaming. He wasn't the kind of man to luridly gaze at a woman at the first sign of showing extra skin, but...she was right across the table from him, pulling her neckline down; it was in his direct line of sight, dammit! His eyes quickly snapped to the cut deck and he picked up the card on top to begin arranging a tarot spread. "This will be a simple Celtic Cross arrangement of the cards," he began, laying the first card down. 

____ peered down at, leaning forward a bit with her elbows on the table "This card describes your overall personality," Hawkins said. "The Queen of Wands: Passionate, creative, courageous…" He glanced up to see her reaction as he trailed off. "Beautiful…"

Hawkins saw ____'s eyebrows raise ever so slightly, and the corners of her lips turned up a bit. Their eyes met for a moment, and Hawkins quickly shifted his gaze to draw the next card. "What is crossing you, or simply what you're dealing with at the moment," he continued, clearing his throat a bit. "The Page of Cups usually indicates a message, one of love or happiness, or good news."

____ bit the inside of her cheek. "Hmm. Would wanting to confess something count? Or maybe…" She glanced sideways for a moment. "Maybe wanting someone else to say something to you?"

"Depending on the message, that could be what the card is referring to," Hawkins replied, wondering what--or who--she could be referring to. Hopefully as he continued the reading, he could get more answers. "What crowns you…" 

He set down the third card, and ____ let out a small laugh at the image of the Lovers in front of her; she covered her mouth as she grinned at the image of a young couple embracing each other. "Oh my god, you've got to be kidding me," she sighed, looking across the table at Hawkins with a playful smile on her face. "I knew it, I knew you knew."

Hawkins tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brows; the knowing look in her eyes and mischievous smile confused him, and he felt as if he were hearing an inside joke that he didn't actually understand. "I...don't follow," he replied, not used to feeling completely lost like this. 

____ pointed down at the cards. "The cards," she replied. "You didn't 'shuffle' them, you set all of these down to get me to say it first. I mean...really? 'A message of love', 'passionate', and the LOVERS card?" She held up the card between her fingers and waved it back and forth.

Say "it"? Say...what? 

____ shook her head with a smile and rolled her eyes. "And you've still got that handsome poker face of yours, even after you got caught," she sighed. "I was always so nervous about admitting it, just because I wouldn't know how you'd take it. I mean, I didn't know if you'd feel the same way; I know that expressing yourself like that isn't your strong suit." 

She set the card down in front of Hawkins and purposefully brushed her fingers against his before resting her hand over his own. When he saw the warm color in her cheeks, the way her eyes shined as she looked at him, and felt her fingers touch his…the realization of what she was saying slowly dawned on him. The only changes in his stoic expression were the more noticeable spots of pink on his cheeks, and how his normally heavy-lidded eyes widened to the size of saucers. 

____ gently laughed again, surprised to see that for such a cold-and-collected pirate, Hawkins seemed to be floored by the smallest of touches. She already thought he was handsome, but now he was comically adorable. The color in his cheeks intensified, and she gently squeezed his hand. Hawkins regained his composure and was hesitant for only a moment before awkwardly squeezing her hand in reply. When he saw how her smile widened a bit, he felt the lovesick tightness in his chest from before fade into a warm and pleasant feeling. She definitely wasn't the only one whose fate was currently crowned by the Lovers...