#riddle’s was another easy one. He feels like his worth is decided by how well he does in school and with magic and with. well. everything??

[cimonim-toasty]

Assigning Songs to TWST Characters

Part one: Heartslabyul (thoughts in the tags)

Ace Trappola

RuLe - Ado

Deuce Spade

Try To Change - Mother Mother

Trey Clover

Welcome to Wonderland - Anson Seabra

Cater Diamond

Are You Satisfied? - MARINA

Riddle Rosehearts

Top Of My School - Katherine Lynn-Rose

[viciouslyyearning]

Oh to be a handsome little merfolk living happily under the waves of the sea.

Watching how the other merfolk disperse or silence themselves at the mention of the sea witch who lives far away in a hidden cavern. Only whispers of a broken riddle as the map of how to find him.

They say those who are brave, can. And those who are lucky, leave with their greatest wish granted to them. At what cost however? As the unlucky never return.

You are of some luck, both good and bad to have been swimming amidst the kelp beds when you see him for the first time.

And he was something to behold, black tentacles sprouting from his waist where your tail was. Stout figure covered in intricate golden markings along skin, and long white hair flowing around his form. He looked nothing like your fellow merfolk, who's agility and speed gave way to lean and lithe form, no. This was a massive man who's greatest assets looked to be strength, with the form to match.

Your curiosity grew as you watched the creature, noting how he muttered to himself over the different ingredients he must have been looking for, and as you saw his dark eyes you realized that your prior thought had been wrong. He was strong, that was certain. But this creature's greatest asset? Was intelligence.

Hiding within the vegetation along the sea floor, you simply watched the cecaelia with wide, intrigued eyes. Waiting till after he was gone to finally swim up and away yourself.

After that you kept an ear out for the cecaelia. Hearing every time one would seem desperate enough to search for him, watching as some returned proud and gleeful, others with some reluctance, and most, didn't.

The common theme between all of them that you could understand was there was a greater price to pay than expected.

The proud didn't realize what they might have lost, the wary knew all too well, and the others you had no clue.

You could almost taste fear in the salty water whenever he was mentioned, never by name, however.

One day, by your unknown state of luck, you saw him again. Along the reef where many merfolk will sell their wares and creations he was there, perusing a keeper's hand grown clams, ignoring the keeper who was hiding behind his own tailfin.

He was quiet in his search, selecting three with great care before leaving a generous portion of coin on the keepers counter as the merman wouldn't dare look the cecaelia in the eye.

The cecaelia seemed unbothered by such treatment, leaving you feeling a certain sort of empathy. You remember the days that most merfolk would almost ignore you for being different in personality and appearance.

This creature was such a mystery! Generous, and reserved, and intelligent, and capable, and possibly dangerous, gah! Why did he have to make it so hard on you?? Couldn't he be good or bad acting to easily let you know if you should squash those feelings you had begun to notice in your chest?? The nerve.

It takes another few days for you to make up your mind to satiate your curiosities and feelings. If you can find him by the riddle those who have been whisper, then you can speak with the creature and decide if it's worth anything at all.

After all, even he must be lonely, yes?

It was no easy venture, finding someone smart enough yet stupid enough to remember the words and to be willing to share them took effort, as did following the directions within those hidden words.

After a length of time would pass, you would be swimming along the bottom of a hidden trench in the sea floor, only accompanied by the occasional eel or slug.

And yet, you saw it. A deep crack in the stoney walls of the trench that widens into what would be a doorway for something over twice your size... Which the sea witch was. With any hesitation having long left you, you swam carefully towards and through the makeshift doorway. Eyes adjusting to see a cavern with makeshift shelves, lined with various oddities and ingredients, few set along the shelves, apart enough that their faint glow lit up the walls, hard rocks lining the ground and ceiling.

You swam slowly and carefully as to avoid any possible injury, wondering if the massive cecaelia could wander through with ease or as much difficulty as you were maneuvering with.

"I would be a poor host should I not greet you at the door." Spoke a strong voice from the shadows, you flicked your tail down, stilling your motion as you looked around. "However-" the voice called once more as the giant cecaelia moved into the dim light, tentacles carrying him easily as he moved to tower over you in the cavern entrance way. "-Had I been aware of your coming, I could have prepared, so I can't quite say I've been a poor host if I wasn't aware I was one. Wouldn't you say?" The words held no malice though there was something guarded in the way he watched you.

Your tail flicked nervously as you found your words, "My intention was not to cast you in such light, nor to enter unwelcomed. I... Wasn't quite aware that this was your home," you smiled sheepishly, hand resting upon the gills of your neck for a moment to stop yourself from continuing.

The sea witch watched with a more relaxed demeanor, granting a small grin as he gestured further into his home. "I suppose when put like that I can't mind. Come, you deliberately sought me out, did you not? Come further in and tell me what it is you seek."

You stalled for a moment, realizing he was waiting for you to move as he would not turn his back to you. Curious indeed. With no outward malice, you felt comfortable enough to flick your tail and move forward once more, swimming past the cecaelia and further into the cavern, you noted that the rocks smoothed and disappeared, leading to soft sand along the floor.

The sea witch followed you closely, stopping as you did in front of his makeshift table.

You turned with a slight startle, noticing how close he was, or at least it felt like it, with how his tentacles splayed out along the floor, they could easily reach out and wrap thrice around you at minimum. Though they remained as relaxed as he appeared. "I must confess, I am here for my own curiosities, not for something of a physicality."

He paused, settling down at the table and resting his arms against it, leaning towards you. "And what curiosities are you to indulge in here?"

Following his lead, you relaxed against the tabletop, trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks and neck as well as your ear fins nervous twitching. "Curiosities of you..."

"I'm sorry?"

You watched the incredulous look upon his face with confusion. Surely you weren't the first to take an interest in the man. Tilting your head, you watched carefully as you chose your next words one by one. "I am curious of you, I've seen you multiple times before. I've felt certain ways at the simple mention of you and with you only coming around every so often I decided to find you myself to learn more about you and decide what to do with these feelings of mine."

The sight of such a powerful looking creature covering his mouth with a dark purple flush covering his round cheeks was quite a sight. Especially once you realized that his tentacles had curled up, making him look smaller than before.

You smiled easily and patiently as you waited for a reply.

"I...-" he cut himself off. Shaking his head and finally looking away from you, to the ground. Eyes going from something warm to cold, almost cruel. "Have you come to humiliate me on behalf of some sorry fool who thinks me to blame for their misfortune?" His quiet voice turning into a snarl as he bared a row of fangs you hadn't noticed before.

You jolted back, confused and concerned now. "What could you possibly mean by that?"

The creature shifted to height once more, no longer settled but looking between a mix of agitated and hurt. "Just what makes you think I'd believe for a moment that such a handsome little merfolk like yourself would express such interest in this monstrosity?! There are plenty of other mers of your own size and almost of your own beauty to settle with, not some-" he raised a hand, attempting to accentuate his point before letting out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and lowering once more.

You stared for a moment, caught between flustered over the manner in which he referred to you, and feeling sorry that he didn't believe you. Slowly, you swam upward, to be at eye level with him, as soon as the water current from your movements reached him you saw him almost flinch back.

That wouldn't do.

Slowly, gently, you took his far larger hand in your own, raising it up to hold as you waited for him to open his eyes.

Slowly, he did, turning to look at you with such an open expression you couldn't help just how soft your own voice had grown. "I am here of my own volition because there is something about you that I wish to know more of." You watch as the flushed look returns to his face, feeling the warmth emanating off of his form. "I have seen your intelligence, I have seen your quiet, I have seen your generosity and gentle hand, even when ignored so blatantly." You lean closer, less than a tail away and able to feel the water shift where his tentacles have risen and circled around you, almost close enough to hold. "This, is why I am here. To learn from you what I could only learn by spending time with you, if you'll let me?" You question softly.

The cecaelia stared intently, eyes never leaving your form, he can smell a lie, and there isn't a single one. A cautious voice rises from his chest. "If this is what you truly wish, I would happily welcome your company for as long as you care to return. However, such a deal even if this nature, requires something in return."

"I'm ... Afraid I don't have much," your voice wanders off

The water tenses as his voice grows stronger, more certain in his words, "I find that this will be easily granted by you, should you wish strongly enough to do as you've said." You feel his hand in yours finally grip yours with a gentle strength, almost refusing to release as he slowly pulls you closer, massive form almost encompassing you as his confidence returns in full force. "A kiss." His breathing deepens as he watches your response.

You can practically feel the intensity of this creature in just his gaze alone. You've already learned something new. He is very intense. That intensity might manifest in whatever deals he creates but in this moment it is focused entirely on you.

With that thought in mind, you move suddenly and without warning, allowing you to catch him off guard. With a strong push of your tail you've made yourself close enough to grab his face with your free hand and press your lips to his, closing your eyes and feeling his entire body jolt before melting into your far smaller form, happily.

It only last a moment before you pull away with a small grin, hand still resting on his cheek. The expression of surprises and genuine warmth catches you off guard.

"Akos."

You tilt your head at his response.

"I give you my name, Akos. You wanted to learn more of me, the first thing I can tell you that no one else knows is just that." He speaks easily, arms moving to keep you close.

"Akos," you mutter quietly, delighting in how you can see him shiver despite trying to hide it. You lean closer once more, watching his eyes close as your nose bumps against his, lips slowly finding their way back together as you speak. "What else will you give to me?"

A quick breath catches in his throat as he feels your lips move over his with your words. Trying and failing to at least keep his tentacles from holding onto your tail as well.

"Anything," he breaths, finally pulling you close enough to be pressed against his form. "Everything."

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

If it’s not to much trouble, could I ask for some scenarios about how the dork squad (general or Arkham) would react to not seeing a particular Arkham employee (who they may have grown fond of / caught feelings for) suddenly not showing up to work for a good week or so? No explanation given and either the rest of the staff won’t answer about their whereabouts or they refuse to ask in the first place since such personal information could be used against them in therapy sessions. Maybe they would start to worry about the reader getting hurt during a security breach, fired, or even killed (there’s really no telling in Gotham)? Eventually the reader returns and explains that they were just sick.

I’ve been feeling a little under the weather (prob another sinus infection tbh) so this idea just stood out to me. Take your time since it’s three characters and if you want to tweak this to be less characters than I’m cool with that. I just had to share this idea and fell in love with your writing recently

"Sick Day" Riddler, Scarecrow and Mad Hatter

You're so sweet of course this isn't too much trouble! I hope by the time you read this, you're feeling a lot better, okay? I'm actually going to go with general for this one since I haven't really gotten to yet for these characters.

Tw: surveillance, fear toxin, isolation, sedation

Riddler

- Meets his favorite employee when he's in an isolation room for causing problems with the other patients (again). Between having his locks switched constantly because he figures them out and the amount of chaos he can cause in the general population, higher ups love putting him to far corners away from others when he's bad.

- His cell is bare. They won't even give him crayons after his newest little stunt. Not only is he isolated, he's BORED. A horrible combination of things.

- So when the nurse assigned to his check-ins and medicine actually chats with him, he's taking it for all it's worth.

- "Hello, Nurse! A riddle for you. What is it that given one, you’ll have either two or none?"

- The nurse pauses. Thinks on it. "A choice?"

- "Correct! That was an easy one-" "Uh-uh, medicine first. That's not a choice." He does the most pathetic sigh, "Fine! You drive a hard bargain."

- This continues even when he's (reluctantly) let back into general population and... shockingly, he's behaving. Lots of flirting, smug grins with thinly veiled threats of all the horrible things he could do to the city.

- When the nurse disappears and no one will tell him anything... he decides it's time for blackmail. It's amazing the things you learn when you hear bits and pieces of things and have the brain to put it all together. Not to mention the camera access he has when he's not in Arkham.

- A guard here, a guard there... he has markers, blueprints and a burner laptop stashed away in a cove on the island. He manages to hack a couple cameras on the mainland... that and he stole employee files and knows their address. The creep.

- He actually figures out they're sick as he watches. If he's feeling particularly cheeky or wanting them to be convinced of how clever he is, he'll have cold medicine sent to their door with a vague riddle.

- When they come back he'll play aloof. Oh? You were sick? Well. He wasn't worried, of course. It's not like he went through a bunch of information he was saving just to ensure you were okay.

- "Cold medicine with a riddle? You must have caught the eye of some other dashing Riddler in Gotham. Not as intelligent as I am, of course."

- The next time he escapes from Arkham, he'll make sure they get locked in a cell safely away from others/the distraction he's going to cause. Then the games can begin :)

Scarecrow

- He'd come to enjoy the almost daily tit-for-tat conversations with his favorite Arkham employee. A rather lowly psych orderly, they were stuck with the most demeaning or mundane of jobs in the facility.

- This also meant a lot of interaction with the patients. Feeding them, check ins, and the occasional distraction when nurses or guards needed to catch a patient.

- He met the orderly when they were put on observation duty as he was carted to his appointment in restraints and bite/spit protection mask. They looked so fresh.

- "They're sending the new technicians to look after me now?" Then, he notices their keys sticking out of their pocket, "I'd get a locking carabiner for those, if you must have them on you. So easy to steal."

- They thank him for the advice. While waiting for the doctor, he gives them more advice. He figures they're young, not a threat to him at all. Perhaps put in their head the many ways they could get hurt or die working here.

- Yet they just smile at him, "Thank you, Dr. Crane. I'll keep that in mind." Turns out, they know exactly who he is. A psychology student that has read his papers and seen recorded lectures. Morbid and macabre interests, themselves.

- He casually takes them under their wing, as long as they continue to be courteous and show interest. He finds he has less than mentor like feelings after a time, but he tries to ignore them.

- When they disappear and no one will tell him what's happened... he doesn't get scared, but he certainly gets cantankerous. What if something happened to his young protégé? Do none of you truly care about someone who works with you daily?

- Then he gets quiet. Too quiet. Too well behaved. He's not even as combative in therapy as he normally would be, trying to turn the tables on anyone picking at his brain.

- Staff suspects something is up, but not what. They do sweeps of his cell and areas of the island to see if there's any fear toxin to be found. Nothing.

- In truth, he's been creating it in small doses and hiding it in recreational areas in plain sight. He's planning on putting it into the air systems of the asylum when-

- Oh. You're back. He was worried something happened. Sick? Well. You better take care of yourself, how can he teach you anything or have decent conversation if you're not here? Do keep up.

- He still ends up using the fear toxin to escape the asylum weeks later, but not before creating an antidote. He'll watch his orderly panic for a time, observe their fears- by the time they wake up, they're outside the facility buildings of Arkham. Mysteriously cured of fear toxin effects.

- They are completely safe and covered in a blanket. Need to make sure they don't get sick again, after all.

Mad Hatter

- Surprisingly, his favorite employee is a psychologist at Arkham. Only so many psychiatrists to go around prescribing medication, leading to a team up between the two. For more frequent weekly meetings, it's a psychologist who may refer if more psychiatric meetings are needed more often than twice a week to once a month. Only few patients such as the Joker get psychiatrists for every session.

- This particular psychologist got him in for their first session... with Jervis sedated past any point of being able to answer questions. Got "well he wasn't cooperating, he wouldn't leave his tea set!" In response. Frustrating, to say the least.

- This resulted in psychologist strutting right up to the "hidden" somewhat private alcove where Jervis set himself up, shoo anyone else away and literally... sit down on the ground with Jervis and introduce themselves.

- This, along with being polite, immediately endeared them to Jervis. Asking what his current drawing is. Him saying "the path to Wonderland, my dear." Recognizing that it is in fact a complex diagram of brain synapses and the shortfall effects of certain chemicals and hypnosis.

- The thing about Jervis Tetch is he's unfortunately a brilliant neuroscientist. Knowledgeable in not only chemical effects, but how to use hypnotic suggestion to manipulate the consciousness. There's times it's difficult to tell where the clarity of Jervis Tetch ends and the delusions of the Mad Hatter begins.

- While there might be tense moments, Jervis ends up developing a rapport of mutual respect and fondness for his doctor. So much so he gets snippy when others try to approach hum.

- This results in a complete breakdown of communication when "his" doctor is out and no one will tell him where they are. He will insist, no, DEMAND where they are.

- this is just further indication to staff that he should not be told anything due to potentially establishing an unhealthy attachment which could result in disastrous consequences if fed into.

- Shoutings about the Red Queen and compulsive rhyming begin on day three or four. A combination of poor handling of the situation and him working himself up.

- "The Red Queen traps me in hell, awaits in the shadows of this padded cell! Haroo! You made them say farewell as I dwell upon how you made them unwell! Murder! Murder, says I! Murmurs within the walls the Jabberwocky has-" (This goes on for quite some time)

- Ultimately when the employee returns, they find Jervis has been isolated to his cell on high levels of sedation to control him. Out of his mind with glassy eyes murmuring to himself when he's awake.

- There will be outright sobbing when he realizes they're back. He wants to touch them so badly. To hold them, to be comforted! He's asking how they are and what they've been doing to get better.

- Once the sedation really wears off he's going to start planning...

- He needs to get his dearest companion out of here before the darkness swallows them both.

[telehxhtrash]

A masterpost on Togashi’s gay subtext and why it’s intentional.

Hi ! After seeing so many posts about Togashi dropping subtext about Killua's possible romantic feelings for Gon, I thought it'd be a good idea to make a sort of "masterpost" with all the subtext that Togashi has included into his work.

I usually see a lot of people trying to say that HxH isn't about romance and that Togashi isn't interested in writing romance into the manga, but when you analyze all the subtext that's been going on the further Gon and Killua's relationship progresses, I think it's incorrect to say that Togashi has never hinted at the possibility of romance in HxH.

This is going to be a long post, enjoy your read!

Also, please note that I will only base this analysis on the manga, so there can be no mistake that "maybe this is just something the anime made gayer" : i want to prove that the subtext is 100% intentional on Togashi's part.

I'd also like to mention, although I will analyze it further after listing the subtext, that Togashi is a VERY smart man. There are always little details in the story and/or foreshadowing that are easily missed at first but when you notice them, it truly makes you understand how much attention and care Togashi puts into his work. There are countless details and symbolism that are analyzed daily through wonderful meta posts, from the main 4′s birthdays and their link to their character or the religious symbolism in Kurapika’s story arc.... Togashi loves to foreshadow and plant little details into his work, so when Togashi plants subtext, I'm sure he 100% knows that he's writing it, and it can't be seen as unintentional.

I'll also link all my references for this post at the end of it, so feel free to read all the additional textposts and content if you want to know more.

Well, let's get into it!

EDIT : i can’t believe this post is still being used as a reference it makes me so happy... thank you so much !!! i edited this to tweak it a bit because i wrote this a while ago and the phrasing seemed off to me, so if you’re reading or re-reading this post, hi, welcome to masterpost on gay subtext 2.0 !

GREED ISLAND ARC

Greed Island is to me the arc that lays down the nature of Killua and Gon's relationship. It's during this arc that we get to see a bit more of what Killua thinks, how he's lucky to have met Gon and that he feels really grateful. Gon’s behavior in this arc is also very affectionate, with him always reassuring Killua about his place next to him. While the scene where Killua thinks "You've got it backwards, Gon, I'm the one that's glad I met you." can't be considered as subtext, I think it's something that lets the reader know a bit more about how Killua feels towards Gon. 

But other than this scene, which can clearly be dismissed as platonic, there are 2 more moments in the Greed Island arc that are layered in subtext.

• The Rainbow Diamond (chapter 151)

During their time in Dorias, Killua uses Risky Dice to gain cards from the slot machines. The first card that Killua gains is called "Rainbow Diamond", the description of the card being "A diamond that shines in a rainbow of colors. Propose with this diamond and she is guaranteed to say "yes"". 

There are 3 different things we can take from this panel. First, the card is a marriage proposal card, so it's obviously romantic in nature. Second, the object is a RAINBOW diamond. And third, Killua, wanting to keep the card safe, gifts it to Gon.

In short, Togashi sat down at his desk, decided to draw Killua winning a MARRIAGE PROPOSAL CARD (it could've been any card, but Togashi CHOSE to make Killua win a marriage proposal card) that has a RAINBOW diamond on it and made Killua gift it to Gon. 

While I personally don't think that subtext can be used to 100% ascert that Killua has romantic feelings for Gon, I think it's a funny little touch from Togashi, and I'm even gonna say a sort of hint towards how Killua's feelings for Gon are going to evolve in this arc and the next.

• “It has to be Killua” (chapter 166)

Now this is a scene that I've never seen anyone talk about, at least on Tumblr, but when I read a bit of analysis on it I was 100% convinced this was intentional subtext. I'm basically quoting here what this article explains, so if you want more detail, I recommend reading it.

As you probably recall, during their deadly dodgeball game against Razor, Killua decides to sacrifice his hands to ensure that Gon could use all his strength. When confronted about it, Killua insists that it's nothing, and Gon shocks him by saying that he knew all along that he was hurting himself for his sake. 

Gon then says that it can only be Killua holding the ball, and that it has to be Killua, resulting in Killua being absolutely awestruck and embarassed. I'm also going to talk about the anime adaptation for this one, because it's perfectly executed and translates extremely well the nuance that the second sentence bears. If you want to rewatch it, this scene happens in episode 70. It's worth noting that in the anime, we see Killua not reacting to Gon's first sentence, but losing his composure entirely when Gon says the second sentence. But why ?

The reason was lost in translation. His exact words are "Booru wa Killua ga motte-kurenai to. Killua ja nakya dame nan da.". Both sentences basically say the same thing : It has to be Killua holding the ball. That second sentence can be translated literally as "If it's not Killua, that won't do." However, the second sentence, in a different context, can also be used to say a totally different thing. 

While it's certain that Gon used this sentence in the context of the dodgeball match, the sentence "~ja nakya dame nan da" also serves as a confession of one's feelings in japanese. It's basically the equivalent to "you're the one for me". When you google the sentence, it turns up romantic songs, forum posts asking what it would translate to in English and posts on how to confess to someone. 

The sentence basically drowns in romantic subtext. As mentioned before, Killua has no reaction to the first sentence "Booru wa Killua ga motte-kurenai to.", but loses his composure at the second one, and I think that was a very deliberate thing Togashi wanted to convey : this sentence has an additional layer, and clearly Killua is taking it to heart.

I will come back to this specific subtext in a bit, because we can parallel it with another subtext-y situation, so please keep it in mind for now.

CHIMERA ANT ARC

Now onto the sad gay arc! This arc is so RIDDLED in subtext and parallels that it's making me lose my mind.

• Gon, you are light. (chapter 199)

This scene is just... So romantic in nature. I’m not too objective on this, but I really do believe that this moment is the exact moment Killua fell in love with Gon and started to realize he felt a bit more than friendship towards him. It’s Killua respecting Gon for who he is, realizing that he’s light and he’s always been, he’s the one who saved him and who’s always been so bright and optimistic and always makes the best out of any situation. In this scene, Killua lets himself drown in Gon’s light, allows himself to feel this “wow” moment of pure admiration and love, and it’s absolutely beautiful.

It's extremely important to take the context of this scene into account. What happened is that Killua, who has been struggling mentally for the entire series with the fact that he's always running away, ran away once more, leaving Kite to die with Pitou. This ENTIRE chapter is literally adults absolutely DESTROYING Killua, first Kite's troupe bashing him for leaving Kite behind, and then Netero, Morel and Knov coming in like icing on the cake telling Killua that "After all, he's just a kid", and that he should hurry up to his mommy. 

Killua is beating himself up for running away again, got destroyed by Kite's team and 3 extremely strong pro hunters. His morale is down in the drains right now. He expects Gon to be mad at him for betraying Kite, for running away once again, for leaving Kite to die alone and ripping Gon away from Kite : he expects that he'll lose Gon for his cowardice.

HOWEVER, the first thing that Gon says to Killua after having been passed out for god knows how many hours is "Thank you". 

Gon woke up and instantly eased up all of Killua's fears : he wasn't a loser for running away, and Gon was actually thankful for him. Gon, at this moment, was the only one that showed kindness, understanding and gratefulness towards Killua. Gon even goes so far as saying that he knows that Kite isn't dead, and that they have to help him. At this instant, Gon is truly Killua's saving grace. He's the one that trusts him with his entire heart, and believes in his choices when even he can't believe in himself. Gon is truly Killua's light at this precise moment, because he was the only one who supported him, trusted him and reassured him in this awful situation.

How can someone shine so bright in such a terrible situation ? How can someone be so positive that nothing bad will happen ? 

Gon asserting all of this makes Killua respect him a lot. Keep this word in mind, because it’s going to be important in the next piece of subtext I’m analyzing, because those two scenes canonically follow each other and are basically Togashi highlighting that something special happened when Killua called Gon his light, and that his feelings deepened.

• Introduction to Palm's character (chapter 200)

This piece of subtext is very very easy to miss but it's one of the most important subtext-y scene, because coupled with the “Gon, you are light” scene, it’s very clear that this dialogue is deliberately highlighting Killua’s feelings.

This chapter introduces Palm's character (which, imo, is a character introduced for the sole intent of being a catalyst to Killua's feelings towards Gon, but I'll talk about it in my post talking about the CAA parallels) - edit: i talked about this briefly here.

So, Killua having looked into Gon's eyes for like 10min straight and concluded that Gon was the light of his life a chapter ago, is now chilling with Gon as they meet Palm. 

Palm takes them to a café and STRAIGHT OFF THE BAT harasses them about how much she's in love with Knov. Like when I say harassing, it's literally a whole page of her explaining her feelings towards Knov. 

There are two interesting things that can be drawn from this interaction.

First, it's extremely easy to draw parallels between Palm's situation towards Knov and Killua's situation towards Gon. Palm starts by saying how amazing her master is, that she probably has special feelings for him but the most important thing is to respect the other person. Remember how I talked about how this last scene was Killua having a surge of deep, deep respect for Gon ? Palm makes sure to highlight that special word, that it’s important to respect someone when it comes to love.

She then goes on to say that she hasn't said anything to Knov, and never will. All of this adds nothing to the story, it's empty dialogue, Togashi could've introduced Palm in virtually any other way possible, but he chose to drag her and the gay duo to a café and make her have a monologue about love RIGHT after the extremely emotional panel of Killua declaring that Gon is his light just a chapter ago.

But there's more. Not only does Palm monologue for a while about love, but after finishing her monologue, this happens :

This panel features ONLY Palm and Killua, her looking at him like the psycho she is, and straight up telling him that "love can suddenly spark out of nowhere, don't you think so?". 

What's so interesting about this is the fact that Togashi made the deliberate choice to have Palm say this to Killua and Killua ONLY, which after the gay existential crisis he had last chapter, can very much be applied to his situation. Love DID spark out of nowhere, and Togashi wants you to notice. Togashi could've made Palm say this to herself, with no distinct listener like the last panel, but he made the conscious choice to draw this panel with Palm adressing herself to Killua SPECIFICALLY. 

Those two pieces of subtext, that fit perfectly together, make me believe 100% that Togashi knows what he's doing and he's not unintentionally planting gay subtext in his work. The fact that Togashi sat at his desk, drew Killua calling Gon his light, and then followed this scene with the introduction to a character who picks Killua apart to tell him that "love is something that just happens, don't you think?" is 100% proof that Togashi knows what he's doing.

• Date with Palm (chapters 217 and 218)

I think this situation has many layers, but many people still dismiss it as bro behavior so I'm gonna try my best to counter argue. First of all, and although that's not proof of anything, Killua looks EXTREMELY distressed by the prospect of Gon going on a date with Palm, but that can be counter-argued by saying that Killua is just worried because Palm is completely crazy. 

What I want to talk about is the scene that happens right after, when Gon and Killua go to the gym (because theyre DUDES YEAH WE WORK OUT NO HOMO), and the conversation casually drifts to Killua asking Gon if he's ever been on a date before, valid question considering what just happened previously. There are multiple things here :

1) Killua seems distressed that Gon has been on dates before. While it can be argued that it's a normal reaction because Gon has and he hasn't, I believe that Killua - who is in no way a normal person who would get flustered about "not having been on dates before a certain age" - would not feel uncomfortable that his friend is more experienced than him - especially when literal seconds later, he monologues about how he doesn’t care about dates and just wants to stick with Gon.

2) Gon then proceeds to ask Killua if he's ever been on a date, to which Killua responds :

What I want to highlight is the panel where Killua says "And the truth is, I want to stay by your side... Always...". Basically, what Killua is saying, is that he doesn't care about dates, all he wants to do is be with Gon.

I don't think this can be counter-argued as bro behavior, but with all the subtext I've explained before, this right here is pretty gay. Togashi put this panel deliberately to show that Killua doesn't give a crap about dates when he can stay with Gon, and with the "gon you are light" scene and everything in mind, this is another intentional subtext.

There's also the fact that Killua stalks the date like a jealous girlfriend - but I'm not gonna count that as subtext because it can be argued that he's just worried about Gon because Palm is insane.

• Gon is my best friend ! (chapter 219)

Remember how I told you to keep the "It has to be Killua" subtext in mind because I was gonna come back to it later ? Well.

During Palm's date with Gon, Killua runs into Rammot, who would definitely have ran into Palm and nenless Gon. Killua is forced to confront his worst fear : this is the moment where he knows that if he runs away again, Gon WILL die. Killua is literally overcoming his "programming", the physical representation of years of abuse out of love and care for Gon. He's ripping out the needle from his forehead out of pure, genuine care for Gon, because if he doesn't, then he'll lose him forever. 

Now, what I actually wanna talk about is this panel :

What we see is Killua thinking happy thoughts about all his adventures with Gon because he can't - won't - doesn't want to run away anymore, and all this for his sake. But what I wanna draw attention to is the dodgeball panel that's bigger than all the others, and the only one where you can actually clearly make out what's written : "Killua ja nakya dame nan da". 

Now, isn't that interesting that the panel that takes a bigger place in the whole panel is the one with this particular sentence? Remember what I talked about a bit earlier, about how "~ ja nakya dame nan da" is a sentence with a lot of romantic connotations (would pretty much equal to "you're the one for me" in English). Clearly this particular sentence stuck with Killua. 

I'm not completely objective on this matter since I firmly believe that at this point, Killua has romantic feelings for Gon, but I interpret this as another deliberate thing Togashi did : putting the panel bigger so we can see that it has a particularly significant importance to Killua, and Killua's state of mind right now (not wanting to lose Gon). 

In my opinion, two things happened here: One, Killua remembers this specific interaction because he knows how much Gon trusts him and he doesn't want to betray his trust. But I also firmly believe that Killua remembered this specific interaction because of the romantic connotation the sentence "Killua ja nakya dame nan da" has. Those words clearly shocked him, and I think he remembers them in this life-threatening situation, after the "gon you are light" scene, Palm talking about "love just happens", the "i want to stay with you, always" because he realizes that he wishes Gon would say that sentence in a romantic context, and not in the context of the dodgeball match, thus leading him to surpass himself to prove his love and perhaps live to see the day where Gon could say those words in that romantic context.

Now, of course, all of this is my interpretation, so it's really up to debate, but I really wanna highlight the fact that Togashi deliberately CHOSE to highlight this particular interaction between Gon and Killua, this sentence with romantic subtext, to lead Killua to finally break his chains and be able to be protect Gon fully. It’s also interesting to note that the 2011 anime adaptation also makes it a point to emphasize how deep these words stuck to Killua by making it the last flashback that makes Killua effectively rip out the needle out of his head. 

Also let's quickly mention the irony in the situation here : while Gon is on a romantic date, Killua fights to protect him, overcoming his weakness to prove his love. It’s not Palm who deserves that date, it’s Killua.

• A lovers’ suicide (chapter 286)

Now, onto the most important piece of subtext, that can not be counterargued as platonic in any way, shape or form. During the palace invasion, Killua leaves Gon's side, proceeds to go kick Youpi's butt only to have to fall back because he used up all his electricity nen. When Killua is charging up, he meets with Meleoron, and tells him that once he's done charging, he'll go back to Gon's side. 

They briefly exchange information about the battle, and then Meleoron proceeds to ask Killua what's the plan for him and Gon. That's when Killua explains that "Once Gon is like this, he won't budge an inch. Worst case scenario, it'll be a double suicide.". At worst they both die, cool. They “go down in flames together”. It’s actually much, much more meaningful than that.

The specific word that Killua uses for double suicide is "心中" (shinjuu), which is a heavily romantically connotated word in japanese. Shinjuu, also translated as "lovers’ suicide", is when two people die out of love, by the same method, because there's a belief that this'll allow those two people to spend eternity together. Shinjuu is a major theme of Japanese literature, and it is always used romantically. It's a very uncommon word to use to refer to two people dying together, because of its heavy romantic connotation, and because it always refers to double suicide committed by people bound by love. In literature, it always refers to two lovers, in love. If you want to read more on shinjuu, i suggest this and this, those articles explain its historic roots and the definition, also emphasizing the feeling of "oneness" that characterizes shinjuu. If you’re interested, I also suggest reading the japanese article that defines shinjuu, and hitting the google translate button, it has some pretty interesting sentences like “Shinjuu is traditionally committed by men and women out of mutual love, in the hope that they will be connected in the afterlife because they can't be together in this world.”

So basically, what Killua is saying is that he wants to go back to Gon's side to die with him, committing a "lovers’ suicide" because he doesn't want to leave Gon to die alone, and wants to die with him.

I also want to emphasize how special this word is to Killua, and that he and everyone around him know the special meaning of this word - In chapter 300, Ikalgo literally says "We were... No, KILLUA was ready to commit shinjuu with Gon". Ikalgo is really highlighting the fact that this word holds special meaning, especially to Killua, and that it was HIM who was willing to commit shinjuu by staying with Gon. Ikalgo and company dying with Gon wouldn't be shinjuu, but Killua dying with Gon would be, and Togashi emphasizes this through Ikalgo's thoughts.

This is pretty much the gist of it, but I suggest reading the wonderful post I linked in the references below if you want to know more about this specific subtext.

(edit : i actually wrote a post going a bit more into detail on Killua’s shinjuu wish if you want to read it here ! :3)

• “The one that Gon needs the most is you” (chapter 294)

I will go into this subtext more in details when I write the post about parallels in CAA, but I still want to talk about it briefly here.

Like I said before, to me, Palm was introduced as a catalyst for Killua's feelings towards Gon. Togashi purposefully wrote Palm as having romantic feelings for Gon to foil Killua's feelings for Gon and make him show jealousy towards Palm. 

To Killua, Palm is someone who stole Gon from him, he sees her as a threat because maybe she'll make Gon happier than he does ? (ofc we all know thats not true but Killua is baby) - Basically, Killua thinks Palm might be more important to Gon than Killua is, because he believes they are romantically involved. That's why when he sees her again later on, after Gon rejected his help, leaving Killua helpess as to how to save his dear friend, Killua sees Palm as a saving grace. 

He knows that if Gon sees Palm as a chimera ant, he will spiral down even more, so he tries to reason with her to get her to be gentle to Gon, because if not her, then who could? Palm would clearly be able to comfort Gon, with whom Killua believes is romantically involved with, better than him, right ? If Gon rejected Killua, then clearly Palm could help, since she seems closer to Gon (BECAUSE HE BELIEVES THEYRE DATING), right? 

This confrontation between Palm and Killua closely ressembles a situation like an ex confronting a new girlfriend - and I think this is exactly why Togashi wrote Palm this way. He wanted Killua to confront who he thought was a threat to their relationship, making him believe that this person who's """"dating"""” Gon is more important to him than himself, only to have her openly admit that she means nothing to Gon. The only one Gon needs is Killua.

And that, my friends, coming from someone you believe is romantically involved with your best friend (who you probably have a crush on), someone you're jealous of, the one you thought was the person most important to him, that's a pretty meaningful statement. 

Basically, what's happening, is that Palm reaffirms that Gon holds Killua closer than a potential romantic partner. And that's why Killua is so, so happy to hear that. He was questioning his entire relationship, questioning if Gon even cared about him, because he rejected him a few minutes before, but then his "rival" comes in and reaffirms that even she knows that no one comes close to Killua to Gon.

I also want to mention that this act of pure love (Killua only thinking of saving Gon when in a life threatening situation) is what made Palm come back to her human senses. d'awwwwww

• Illumi and Hisoka’s parallel on lovers who die of Alluka’s requests. (chapter 323)

Now onto the final significant subtext - while I don't particularly think of it as subtext-y, I know a lot of people have so I still want to include it here.

When Illumi explains Alluka's powers to Hisoka, he explains that there are two different types of linked deaths when a request is failed : 1) the person who failed + the person they love the most 2) the person who failed + the people they spent most of their time with. 

When applied to Killua, Hisoka naturally comes to the conclusion that no matter the outcome, Gon would always be the one dying with Killua, because he's spent so much time with him, and because he's the one that Killua loves the most. In the panel where Illumi explains this, we see a romantic, heterosexual couple  demonstrating the effects of not completing one of Alluka's requests, and thus the "most important person dying". 

While not making any true parallels, the fact that Hisoka, and the readers, are drawn to compare a heterosexual, romantic pairing to Killua dying with Gon because he's his "most important person" is an interesting piece of subtext.

_______

I want to finish by talking about Killua's birthday and how significant it is in my opinion. All the main 4 characters have birthdays that fall on specific dates, related to Japanese tradition, and often with events that can be associated to their character. Gon's is 5/5, which is Children's Day. Kurapika's is 4/4, the number 4 being considered an unlucky number, and this being an unlucky day to have a child. Leorio's is 3/3, Hinamatsuri (not really any main parallels here but still). But Killua's birthday is 7/7, and is the Japanese day to celebrate Tanabata. 

If you are not familiar with Tanabata, the story is as follows : Orihime is a princess who works for her father, working hard and well, but she laments the fact that because of her hard work she can't meet someone and fall in love. Her father arranges for her to meet Hikoboshi, allowing Orihime to leave because he expects her to come back to work for him, but the two immediately fall in love and get married, and she never returns. I won't get into the rest of the story as it's this part that interests me the most, but if you want to read more about Killua and Tanabata I suggest reading the post I referenced below.

Does the story of Orihime remind you of anyone ? Killua also works for his father, but laments the fact that he can't go outside and meet someone. His father then lets him go, saying, and i quote: "he will come back, because he's my son". Doesn't this remind you of the tale of Tanabata ? Killua's story references the tale of Orihime perfectly, and I believe this is intentional : Killua's birthday isn't of any importance to the plot, so why make it Tanabata, a day that celebrates a love story that closely ressembles Killua's story ? The answer is simple : subtext.

With all this in mind, I think it's pretty clear that Togashi is writing intentional subtext to hint at Killua's feelings being romantic in nature. Togashi is a master writer, he has years of experience, and I strongly believe he knows what he's doing and not planting unintentional subtext. He's a very smart man, and knows how all of this can be interpreted.

I will finish by saying that Togashi is NOT an author that would deliberately queerbait his readers. So many people dismiss the possibility of having gay subtext leading onto an actual canon gay relationship because "it's not like the author would ever have gay main characters". While this holds true for a lot of manga authors, especially shonen manga authors, it does NOT apply to Togashi. 

Togashi has always displayed interest in queer subjects and queer representation, putting trans characters in all of his major works (Miyuki in YYH, Mikihisa in Level E and Alluka in HxH). There were also canonically gay characters in his previous works : Itsuki in YYH, and a character named Kuramoto in Level E. 

Togashi also always had interest in mangas having BL elements, citing Maya Mineo's "Patalliro!" as a manga he was attracted to during High School. If you're unfamiliar with Patalliro, the story focuses on the main character's love life as a gay man.  He also admitted to basing Hiei's (YYH) design off a character from that manga. 

Last but not least, Togashi mentioned in a note included in volume 1 of YYH that he wanted to write a sports manga, called The Trouble Quartet, where basically all the characters are gay. Togashi said he based it off his own interests as a writer, and that while it was refused by Shonen Jump, he got deeply attached to the project and that he would love to explore this project in a different shape once he made a name for himself. I suggest reading this post because the parallels between The Trouble Quartet and HxH are HILARIOUSLY accurate.

In short, Togashi has always had interest in queer matters, and was always interested in putting queer representation in his work. After YYH, which was a terrible experience for Togashi as a writer, he managed to snatch a contract that basically allows him to do whatever he wants with HxH. Having always held dear BL matters but never being able to explore it to his full intent, I believe Togashi is exploring queer identity further with HxH, because Shonen Jump basically lets him do anything.

To conclude, with Togashi's past experience and skill, his interest in queer representation, and the amount of subtext surrounding Killua, I honestly believe that Togashi is trying to explore further queer representation, and I wouldn't be surprised if HxH ends with Gon and Killua becoming a canon pairing, whether it be delivered in an ambiguous manner or not. 

Edit : I actually wrote a post on why I believe it won’t be ambiguous, and that it’s truly never been ambiguous, just developing : here.

I hope you enjoyed the read, thank you for reading all of this, and feel free to show this to anyone who denies subtext in HxH !

REFERENCES

- "It has to be Killua" - Medium article, "Impossibilities in Translating Queerness : The Dodgeball Dilemma" 

- Palm's Date Scene - Reddit post, "Togashi's love of Ambiguity: Chapters 217 and 218" 

-A thematic analysis of Palm’s character : ”The Issue With Palm”

- Shinjuu - Tumblr post by hunterxhell, "A lovers' suicide, I guess." :  + the post that mentions Ikalgo talking about shinjuu 

- An analysis on different subtext-y situations

- Illumi and Hisoka’s parallel : here and here 

- Killua’s birthday : "Killua, July 7th, and the significance of his birthdate”

- Togashi's interview mentioning Mineo's Patalliro 

[heli0s-writes]

Clumsy

Summary: Serendipity, it’s the only way Steve can describe it. His ma was right: he’d always been slow.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

A/N: Fluff with a tiny sprinkle of Steve angst because I love one sad boi. Written for @wkemeup​​‘s 4K Challenge like an entire year ago!! I’m so sorry, Kas!! The prompt was Bright Eyes’ “First Day of My Life”. 2.8k words.

It was supposed to rain.

Thunderclaps rolled in the distance all morning. Moisture hung heavy in the air and the earth smelled like wet already--- salty, thick, sweet. The app on his phone blinked gray clouds straight across the screen. Seventy-three degrees and a nine-five percent chance of precipitation. Winds NE 20 miles per hour.

But at 2:30 in the afternoon when Steve slides into the car, it’s clear and blue.

So he figures it’s coincidence and poor meteorology when the engine quietly rumbles to life. He fixes the collar of his shirt, checks for hotels around the midway point, and sends an uneasy look to the empty passenger seat.

Then, he makes his way to where you are.

-

The two-lane country road stretches on. Winding and curving, pitch-black and howling with wind and wildlife. Bugs splatter on the windshield and he mechanically sprays a bit of fluid, wiping them off, the squeaks giving his radio a bit of rhythm in all this late-night talk. It’ll be another half hour before he gets to the hotel and he’s still wrestling with himself if he should even break.

No reason to now. He can drive all night. No reason to other than his pride.

“So what is it?”

There’s an imprint in the seat. An outline of a warm body folding soft creases in the leather. Late night talk radio fizzles out, and he’s tired, so he can’t get too upset at his brain for seeing the shape even though it’s been months since anyone’s sat there.

He chances a look over, then quickly back ahead because sure—the sedan is small, but this tiny strip of pavement feels even smaller. Too right and he’ll careen into the woods, too left and if another car’s coming around the bend Steve would roll out alive, but he’d be the only one.

He looks again.

Legs folded. Bare feet. Ankles crossed on the dash. Casually sitting with one hand on your phone and the other one behind your head, face lit incandescent by the screen. It was the first time he’d been alone with you after New York; he remembers this.

You hadn’t even given a glance sideways at him, still fixed on the screen, thumb sliding up and focused on mission details in a perfect picture of indifference.

“Your whole thing. Mister Red-White-and-Broody, most eligible bachelor in all of America—which, by the way, is so far up your ass all fifty states might as well be coming out of your mouth—”

“Stop it.”

“Okay, Rogers.” A smirk. His last name slipping between your lips like military title. “Fine, you’re all gilded in the front, suffering in the back. So—” You turned finally, pulled your feet back and tucked them under your body, “What is it?”

Steve pretended to think, left hand clenching a fraction tighter on the wheel, feeling its strength beneath his grip. His face remained impassive and dedicated forward, turning the seconds in his head, counting down the appropriate time for his reply.

It was a game, certainly. Your assertion, your poise, hand propping up your head—all of it. Your entire being was a foil to one Steven Grant Rogers and he was strapped with you for half a week. Already the car ride was beginning to foreshadow what was quickly seeming to be a long assignment.

“It’s my job—”

“So weak.”

“I’m busy—”

“Are you even trying to lie?”

You were known to do this: lay out a path of questions that only gave your company the pretense of a genuine conversation. You’d lead them like a wrangler leading horses to water, knowing they wouldn’t drink, but giving them just enough time to stare at their own reflection in the pool before you’d yank the harness elsewhere.

It was always a short path, but what you lacked in subtlety you made up for with honesty.

Agitated, Steve snapped before he could rein himself back in.

“What are you, my psychologist?” Horse.

“You don’t have one. You are the only Avengers Tower resident who has run off every psychologist on Stark’s payroll. So--” a twist of your torso, your back pressed up against the door handle as you stared at the outline of his side profile. Wrangler.

The question dangled in front of his gritted teeth. The answer he’d known long ago was behind two perfect calcium rows, pressed up, trying to find its way through the cracks.

What’s your thing? We fought together. We live together. We suffered a cataclysmic event in the form of aliens together---so why doesn’t anybody know you?

You leaned forward, body tilting until it almost touched your former footrest. Your head sloped to find his face and when he flicked his eyes sharply to yours, Steve knew it wasn’t sharp enough.

“You don’t want to be vulnerable.”

You’d led him through the brief route of your inquisition and had seen all you cared to see. Your voice bounced off the window when you closed your eyes and turned away.

“Steve,” you sighed, mouth going to the side in a smile. “Vulnerability is clumsy, but it’s the only thing worth anything.”

He had thought: No, it isn’t. He’d spent too long being vulnerable already, and he couldn’t afford it again. Twenty years of a miserable half-life and seventy years of sleep and suddenly the world was new and different and strange. Coming back into his body was new and different and strange but it was the body that afforded him invulnerability.

Mostly, anyway.

Steve decided, then, at least he could make up for that lump of mortality—that lump of weakness—with performance.

So, he became the blacksmith to his feeble Brooklyn boy heart. Forged carbon steel, gold-plated, immaculately polished like his own shield at press conferences. Smoothed himself into a monumental display of impeccable posturing and hid the boy away where no one could reach him. Let him go back to sleep, too. Frozen in a time long passed, long forgotten.

He wasn’t Steve Rogers anymore because no one knew Steve Rogers anymore; it was the only way he could carry on. Didn’t you know?

No, he supposed, you didn’t.

On the ride back you surrendered yourself to the backseat, laying down in the most comfortable position the sedan would allow, and chatted his ear off the entire ride home. Called him Steve and looked at him through the rearview mirror. Eyes met eyes, and yours crinkled at the edges with some secret knowledge.

By the end of it, all he could think about was how he didn’t mind the conversation and that his first name even sounded a little nice coming out of your mouth.

You shimmer in the passenger side until your hair hangs a little longer. His brown leather jacket is around your shoulders. A stretch of your arms. A stretch of your lips. Months passed and Rogers befell the man you knew during the Manhattan Crisis while he became Steve.

Steve on missions and in the field—On your six, Steve! Keep up, old boy. Steve at the tower and Steve in the gym— don’t touch my weights, Steve, you’ll throw your back out.

Steve getting the door and pouring the whiskey and letting you wear his jacket when you were cold. Finding you across rooms at parties because there was an easiness to your presence that calmed the crowd. Shooting pool and watching movies. Up late and out late and laughing until the early hours.

He was Steve, your friend, because he finally allowed himself to have a friend.

You change. Shimmer again until your hair is pulled back from your swollen face. A hospital gown crinkled around your shoulders. Asleep, cold. Too close to death, too close to him. He couldn’t even sit by your bedside, only standing by the door, shuffling from one wall to the other and watched the monitors with a too-loud and static-filled brain.

He was hesitantly Steve when you stepped too close to him on the balcony nights later, hand precariously hovering over that fragile boy heart, finally pressing down on it, feeling his delicate pulse thawing and crawling towards you. Tipsy smile and you tasted like whiskey and easy joy.

The kiss was clumsy, like you’d said. Vulnerability threw him back to the 40’s, all gangly limbed and ill, his lungs malfunctioning, his breath smothered in his mouth. He stumbled, but the banister held him up.

You didn’t mind that his knees felt boneless. You chalked it up to too much drink, but the touch of your still-bruised cheek abruptly burned down his throat—warm and smooth and cataclysmic until he caught sight of the way you winced as his hand cupped your tender face. Steve stepped back, then, and apologized for what he said should have never happened.

There was a small quiver from your shoulder before you quietly went back inside.

He cursed himself on the balcony. Cursed letting it all happen in the first place. Captain Rogers watched your retreating steps, burying the spark and the fire. And the boy must have cried in his ice-block coffin when he buried him again, too.

“Don’t look at me like that.” God, he’s going crazy. Poor night-vision and an addled brain causing him to scold an empty seat. “You stopped talking to me.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens the way it does when you’re too deep in his head and he can’t get you out. Days without hearing from you smeared together in careful steps of a cagey dance. Comments always presented as half-truths—riddles he struggled to deconstruct. Breadcrumbs never leaving enough of a trail to lead him anywhere. He wants the harness back. Wants back your confident hand.

“You could have said something.” Steve scoffs, because you always had something to say. “Anything. You could have said anything. We were—friends.”

And hell, doesn’t that sound stupid out loud? Maybe it’s best that he’s got nothing but infinity beyond the sedan’s glaring brights and a million thoughts of unsaid words. It’s all useless, anyway. Best that he can get it all out now, talking to your ghost. It keeps all his thoughts in his head and keeps him from yelling every time he sees you not-looking, not-smiling, not-talking to him.

Steve flicks the wipers on again. Shuts off the radio. Shuts off the navigation. Takes the car off cruise-control to give himself something to do. He’ll stop overnight, after all.

Suddenly then, in the distance, two glowing eyes greet him steadily. Measured paces, in a firm and crisp trajectory, growing closer and closer. Glaring and vivid, beating the monotonous grind of nighttime out of him. His pinky moves, and his high beams flip to low beams, white giving way to yellow and the glistening road signs and tree-shadows in the distance slowly diminish.

Bleached spectral glaring of leaves and road signs soften ochre and brown, indigo dark. For a fleeting moment, even Steve’s enhanced eyes feel half-blind again as he readjusts to the pitch-black night barely lit. The car coming toward him does the same, highs blinking low and they pass each other in quiet understanding. In blind trust on the dark road, dependent on each other’s good faith to see it through.

He thinks of Sarah Rogers in a tiny Brooklyn kitchen, floral wallpaper yellowed and peeling behind her. One hand on an apron-clad hip, cooking interrupted by her son stumbling in dripping blood down his shirt, her other hand clenched around a wet kitchen rag.

“Steven Grant Rogers! Oh—wretched! What else can I say,” she’d sigh as she pressed it to his nose, “You do whatever you please, anyhow. You just put this on your face—and don’t think it’ll get you out of doing the dishes, either.”

“But—” he’d attempt.

She’d put up her hand, “Lord have mercy on any young woman that’ll have you. May she have your poor mother’s patient heart.”

His ma always called him slow. A dolt through and through. Quick to temper, but laborious to do much else. Common sense always took its sweet time-- took the long path home to get to Steve Rogers. In seventy-odd years, he hasn’t changed.

Better than coincidence and better than poor meteorology. Serendipity. It’s the only way he can describe it.

Like finding a crumpled up twenty in his pocket—or in his case, a five—enough then for a week’s worth of meals. Like having that nightmare— the one right before the plane crashes and instead of going down with it, he wakes up. Like expecting to drive five hours through a storm and stopping overnight, but instead it’s clear and blue as far as he can see.

The rush, the relief, the deafening joy that shuts everything else up and out.

Sarah Rogers was right: he’d always been slow.

So he careens back onto the highway from the service road, steadying his foot on the pedal and flies about fifteen miles faster than the speed limit says he should. The car is vibrating to a thrilled beat inside his chest. Steve can’t help smiling.

-

It was supposed to rain. All the way to the next mid-morning but the sky parts a brilliant orange sunrise and he nearly sprints to the door. He doesn’t wait for it to open all the way before he barrels in. A sliver of parting wood is enough, and Steve throws it wide with his enormous shoulders, kicking it shut firmly with his boot.

The imprint of your body on the couch is still warm—you, halfway across the room in alarm—real and even warmer when Steve gathers you into his arms. He’s been awake for over 24 hours, talking to himself, talking to your hallucination, so he apologizes when his teeth click against yours in a frantic kiss.

“Rogers--!”

You pull away, dazed, a little bit pissed off, but you cow the swirl of emotions into professionalism. “What are you—you’re not supposed to be here until late—did you drive through--”

“Steve,” he interrupts, “Steve.”

He’s so tired of the long road. Can’t stand another second of maneuvering in the dark down winding paths or broken streetlight avenues you’re not at the end of so he keeps his next phrase short: “I really like you.”

You raise your brow and brush the back of your knuckles over your lips, the light from the balcony streaming over your face. His hand tenderly brushes your cheek, the same one he touched all those months ago and you blink in surprise. Quick, calculating movements even as you lean gently into his touch.

“Steve…” you say slowly before your mouth pinches together in a poor attempt to hide the smirk threatening to surface. “You drove all night to… ask me to call you Steve.”

“Well,” he shrugs, “And the mission.”

“Right, the mission. The debrief didn’t mention that it required a lot of… kissing.”

“It came up recently; I haven’t adjusted the file yet.” He grins at your rolling eyes, your swollen lips peeling back to reveal a joyful display of teeth at his stubborn defiance.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble.

You place your hand over his chest, over his heart.

You kiss him and Steve hears himself sighing into your mouth. His cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you’re not letting go, and he presses his lips to yours a little slower, a little firmer, learning the ways you like to feel him there.

“Steve,” you breathe, and it paints him in the most galvanized care. “Steve,” you say again, and his eyes slip shut, like he’s being laid to rest. And maybe he is. Finally weary of lugging around all his armor, all his pretense.  

The boy emerges, thawing toward his name held sweetly in your mouth.

He fumbles with his awkward limbs—a newly birthed foal trying to find its footing—but you’re patient and enduring. He takes in his trembling body—knobby knees and gangly elbows. Inept gait still learning how to be. He takes the sights—white casting over the balcony. You, even brighter.

It was supposed to rain, but you link your fingers through his, leading him toward the open doors, smiling against a backdrop of sherbet swirls. He stumbles, but you’ve got him. A few short steps, just a few more, and Steve kisses you again in the sunbathed daybreak, resurrected and anew.

[acciocriativity]

You and Me || Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin/Reader

Summary: It's always been you and Draco since you can remember, the invincible duo, the two of you against the world but some things have changed along the way and it's not news to any soul at Hogwarts but it's time your parents knew too. 

 Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: I took a bit to finish but here it is your story @x-dratie-x. I hope you all like it! Tom Riddle is not Voldemort in this oneshot, Voldemort didn’t exist at all but the events of the first war and its consequences still is valid, but with another wizard.

Warnings: A very very slightly sexual conversation and that's all

1987  

  I didn't want to be at that dinner, I didn't want to have to listen all day long to how well I should behave because the Malfoy's were such an important family or something. 

I had plans for the week, I would go with our elf to buy more art supplies and I was allowed to spend the day outside the house, just drawing the landscape. 

My parents never let me participate in events like this, because I might mess up, say something inappropriate for the moment, or whatever excuse they decided to make up. But out of the blue, I was told that I would have to be there. Why? I couldn't understand and I didn't even ask them, what good would it do? None. 

The day was only getting worse and worse by the hour for me, I just wanted to take off that dress and go play but I couldn't, obviously. So I did what was left to me, smile and eat politely without making any noise or comments, not that there were any comments I would like to make. I had no idea what they were talking about, it was absolutely boring. The only thing that made me feel slightly better were my own thoughts and the fact that their son was as bored as I was. 

We knew each other because of some casual encounters between our parents but never had the opportunity to talk to each other, because of course, only grown-ups talk.

But it seems that I drew the long straw after a horrible day, after dinner Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were invited to stay a little longer and I was excused along with Draco to play.  

I could hardly believe it, I wouldn't have to sit there and smile for another 45 minutes, my happiness couldn't be measured at that moment. Not even waiting for my mother to say it again, I stood up and said goodbye politely with a smile before walking up the stairs and I could hear footsteps following me somewhat hesitantly but I didn't care at the moment. 

"Come on, let's go play in my room", I exclaimed with a huge smile and threw the bow tie, which was pinning my hair, on the floor and quickly walked over to it uncaringly.

 I missed his shocked expression but as soon as we reached my door, he made sure to make it clear to me. 

"Do your parents let you do that?", the question made no sense in my head but stopping to think about it now, it makes sense, he should always be flawless. 

"They don't care as long as it's not in front of guests, you won't tell them, right?", his greyish blue eyes reflected mine and for a few seconds I thought that was a beautiful effect.

 He looked away from me and nodded slightly in agreement, his face covered in shyness and I just squealed with delight. I opened the door and pulled him inside, his hand was so cold that I thought about taking one of my jackets and handing it to him. 

"So what do you want to do? I have some toys in my closet, I'll get them", I walked happily to the door and proceeded to try to decide what I would want. Some was not the best word, there were a lot of them, far more than I would ever use. 

 I came back with a big mulberry box that I've only been able to carry within the last year and placed it on my bed but he didn't even notice, he was looking at my drawings. 

"Oh, you liked them. I wish I had done one more today, do you want to try?", I asked him and walked over to the table where my sheets were. 

"Yeah, they're not too bad", he stated nonchalantly and I didn't believe him for a moment but I chose to keep my mouth shut for once. 

 I picked up two white sheets, two quills and sat down quietly on the floor, since I didn't have two chairs for the two of us but it seems he wasn't used to that. 

"Come on, hurry up, your parents won't be here forever", I patted the seat next to me and soon he sat down as well, I noticed his posture still uncomfortable and my goal for the day turned to change that, if only for 5 minutes. 

 From that day on, we became closer and our parents obviously understood and liked that, because we were strengthening their relationship and at no point that crossed my mind. I was just happy to be supported by my parents to visit Draco. 

1991

 My Hogwarts letter had arrived some weeks ago and I hadn't let go at any point, going to Diagon Alley had become a completely different experience and I couldn't wait, but I had to because I pleaded with my and his parents so that we would go together.

But the day had finally arrived and I had to contain all my energy to not look like an out of control little girl, nothing out of the ordinary but today was more difficult because I was genuinely happy. I was always genuinely happy with my only real friend. 

"Y/N, you must hurry or we are going to be late", I could hear my mother's voice from downstairs just as I finished putting on my flats. 

 As it was a very important occasion I had chosen my favorite outfit, even my parents were a little excited too. They had told me that they had met at Hogwarts and that I would find someone from a good family at Slytherin as well. This part was completely ignored by me but they never found out about it. 

"I'm here mom, we won't be late", I said as soon as I came down the stairs and approached them without running. We were near the fireplace and I mentally thanked them for not having to apparate, because it was always a horrible experience for me.

"Okay, I'll go first and you two right after", my father made sure to announce although he always goes first when we go out like that.   

 After a few minutes, we arrived in front of Flourish & Blotts and there was the imposing Malfoy family. After a small talk in which I had no interest in paying attention to, we all went inside and we were finally able to talk while our parents were engaged in a conversation with the attendant. 

"I've already said it once and I'll say it again, I honestly don't understand how you're not that excited, it's Hogwarts", I whispered to him as we walked through the messy shelves full of books. 

"It doesn't seem like a great thing after hearing it so many times", I could clearly see that there was something more there, I had known him long enough to know that and also that he wouldn't tell me easily. 

"Okay, so you're telling me that you're not the least bit excited to leave Malfoy Manor to start your life?", his lips twitched trying to hold back a smile, his eyes shifted from mine, looking for something to distract himself. 

 But I could stop him, my cunning little hands went to his waist tickling that area before he could prevent me from doing so. That was enough to make him laugh, although he denied that he was ticklish every time I asked. 

This attack did not end well for me, because revenge existed in his vocabulary and was even overused. I had to run, as fast as I could, and it still didn't work. 

And why? Because I went to a dead end corridor upstairs, I had never even visited the second floor of that store, the day I went there I had to get unlucky. 

In short, I was attacked twice more without mercy, my glasses almost got broken and we were so noisy that the owner gave us a scolding and our parents did the same as soon as we left with our packages, but this was not enough to ruin the day and our good mood. 

1993

 It was already expected that we would both end up in Slytherin, which was great because we didn't have to be separated, on the opposite, we became closer than ever. It also didn't take long to form our group of friends, actually not more than a month but the thing that made us truly close started in the third year when I had a genius idea. 

We all had a reason to dislike Harry, mine was nowhere near Draco's, no one's was but we shared it anyway. It was always fun to pick fights with him, make pranks and get him into trouble on purpose, so why not make it a little game? It was so easy that the idiots, Crabbe and Goyle understood the first few times, you can't expect more than that from them, and this was certainly a record for both. 

The game had three main objectives: 

- Take the most materials from Harry or his friends: ink, quill, books, whatever they were carrying would be a prize and would get a point.

- See him or his friends more often, with the intention of spying on them just for fun, of course. It could be in class or in the corridors, each time would be an extra point. 

- Pick fights with him or his friends, each minute was worth one point and to be proven, had to have someone to confirm it. 

 Of course, there was no room for lies, and I made sure to put a spell on our board to prevent this. Yes, I had made a small board that stayed with me but each team wrote down their own score.

To make it more fun, we split up into pairs. Draco and I, Pansy and Blaise, Grabbe and Goyle, Astoria and Millicent and Tom and Theo.

And finally, the best part, whoever had the most points at the end of the year would win 5 galleons from each person, as well as having a celebration party financed by the losers.  

Needless to say, Draco and I always won since the day I created the game. Our friends always complained about us playing dirty but it was never necessary and deep down they knew it, it must be hard to lose every year so I don't judge them.  

1995

"Are they still complaining?", I remained with my eyes closed, it was comfortable to lie curled up against Draco on the couch in the common room. We had two free classes, which was being put to good use to get some rest after a year of N.O.M.S. and a devastating victory in our little game.

"They'll get over it when we come back in September, I guess.... You're missing the best part", his voice came out whispered directly into my ear and I couldn't help but smile.      

 I didn't need to see the scene to know what was going on, Tom and Theo blaming each other for the defeat, everyone standing back from them because no one wants to get involved in their ego battle and our other friends trying not to laugh because it was a funny scene, even if they didn't know it.

"They're taking longer than last time...", I commented slightly annoyed by the noise. I had no idea what had happened to me, because usually I spent the afternoon celebrating my victory but not today. 

"Let's get out of here, you seems so good", he hadn't even completed his sentence when I agreed and painfully got up to go to his room. 

 But before I could take two steps, I felt his arms go around my waist and legs, leading me up the stairs in a bridal style.

I smiled wider and snuggled into his arms, enjoying more of the warmth and good feeling it gave me until we reached the bed.

"Thanks honey, I don't know what happened today", I commented under my breath as soon as he had me lying on the bed, but I knew it was a lie.

"Are you sure? This isn't related to the fact that our parents will know about our relationship in a few days?", I hoped he would pretend he didn't know but that wasn't the case, I wasn't going to be able to run away from the subject.

"It's just that I don't like them meddling in our lives, of course I have nothing against your parents, I'll love to be introduced as your girlfriend but my parents will be twice as unbearable", I sighed and hugged the blond once more, if there was one thing that made me better it was this. 

"Like my mom isn't going to start a 3 year planning for our wedding after she finds out, but at least they'll be used to it by the end of the summer and we won't have to go through this again", he began to fiddle with my hair and curl the strands between his fingers, slowly my shoulders relaxed and a considerable chunk of my worry faded away.

"Yes, I think so but it's going to be a lot harder for us to be alone now. You definitely won't be stepping foot in my room like you did when we used to play together", the memories flooded back and I felt him smile too, it had been a while since this had escaped my thoughts. 

"I don't need to worry about that, we slept together for almost the entire year at Hogwarts and they can't do anything about it and we'll keep doing it", I couldn't see him since my face was buried in his neck, but the perfect image of his mischievous grin formed in my head. 

 "The question is, will you survive for two months without me? Because I don't see that happening", I teased with a huge smirk as I turned to look him in the eye. 

"It won't happen because your father won't be enough to stop me love and I'll make sure you don't have to resort to your hands, because we know it wouldn't be enough", smugness was all over his face and as much as I searched for an answer to that, I didn't have one. Not in the first few seconds. 

"Good love, that's good because I'm sure your hands wouldn't do a better job either. In fact, I'd be a little worried if they actually still work, in case we get separated", I had managed to wipe the smirk off his face but I also knew it wouldn't stay that way, revenge was still an overused word in his vocabulary. 

 A week later, there I was on one of the Hogwarts Express cars with Draco, since we couldn't fit all our friends there anyway, we decided to enjoy the last hours of freedom we had together. 

And how quickly it went by, one moment I was chatting with my boyfriend while my puppy slept peacefully in her travel bed and the next, we had arrived and a wave of students were trying to get through the doors at the same time. 

We stepped off the train holding hands, while I carried only my baby in the other, and this detail did not escape the trained eyes of our parents who were talking side by side but as soon as they noticed us they stopped.

"For Merlin's sake, you two finally decided to listen to me and are in a relationship now?", my mother's eyes sparkled with excitement and I could already hear her voice asking me all sorts of embarrassing questions. "Narcisa, our family is finally becoming one, this is the best news I could ever receive", she could jump for joy now but because of the good posture of a London high society woman, she did not do that.

"How about dinner at our house today? We have a good reason to celebrate," I had seen his mother smile at me several times but even Lucius Malfoy seemed satisfied enough to show a little bit of his teeth, which is indeed shocking.

 My parents agreed to the idea immediately and only one look was exchanged between Draco and me, it only took a single look to know that we both acknowledged it would be an insufferable night. 

Harry Potter Masterlist

[kodzumie-archived]

Can l request a yandere kokichi and nagito with a insecure possessive so? Thank you very much

❝HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT❞

Synopsis; What are the yanderes like with an insecure and possessive darling?

Featuring; Kokichi Oma and Nagito Komaeda x GN! Reader

Warning(s); Yandere themes, established relationship, manipulation, emotional abuse, possessiveness, insecure thoughts (reader), sacrilege, worship, implications of stockholm syndome, self-harm (Nagito), blood, slight gore, attempted suicide, and mentions of hospitaliation.

Kodzumie’s Note; Of course you can! Thank you for your request, this was a very interesting concept, and one that I enjoyed writing! Take care, love. Muah! <3

➤ KOKICHI OMA

⤷ He’s cunning; calculating all the ways he can use your weaknesses to his advantage. Truthfully, he’s the reason you have a desperate need to pledge your claim on him. He made you this way; riddled in insecurities, fearing that you’ll never be enough for him.

⤷ The constant malice laced with faux, brutal honesty in his words as he admits that if you get boring, he’ll leave you. In the way he drops such soul-shattering admissions without a care terrified you. Were you that easy to discard?

⤷ And thus spiraled your fogged mind of whether or not what you do is spontaneous enough. Is it enough to be deemed unpreditable? Will it keep him interested? Will he be entertained?

⤷ It’s a cruel, sadistic game that he’s forced your self-assurance to play. Constantly chasing after him as he turns his back to you, threatening you with the shackles of abandonment.

⤷ He’s caged you in a mindset where you cannot rely on trust any longer. Trusting a deceiver would bring you nothing but heartbreak; you’ve had to bear this lesson far too many times to relive it once more. Trust—in this corrupted love—was a vice.

⤷ So you took it into your cold, dead hands to carry the burden of ensuring that your lover remains. Wary glances of where he runs off to, heart worrying away over who he could possibly be with at that very moment. Who has he deemed worthy of his invaluable time now?

⤷ You fret over any and all possibilities. Perhaps he finds someone more deserving of his time, leaving you for them in the blink of an eye. Or perhaps he simply grows tired of you, your existence proving to be far too predictable and not suitable to his adrenaline-crazed tastes.

⤷ In every moment, you fixate on the where his eyes flicker when he’s with you. It’s taunting, the distraught of catching him looking at someone else. Someone other than you.

⤷ And he knows this. He’s more than aware of how worriedly you follow his gazes, hoping not to find another person they’re directed towards. It’s a realization he plans to use to the fullest, caving in whatever sense of self-esteem you had that maybe—just maybe—he only had eyes for you.

⤷ But having faith in such a deceitful individual was a mistake you’ve made far too many times. Even now as you follow Kokichi’s eyes to settle upon a figure.

⤷ Your heart dropped to the pits of your stomach, an unruly pang piercing your conviction with the tendrils of a distorted reality; he’s gazing upon someone else.

⤷ That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you—

⤷ “Kokichi, what are you looking at?” You cut the suffocating silence. Your breaths uneven as the functioning of your lungs felt labored. Throat contracting in anxiety, you swore you wouldn’t be able to hear his—inevitably deleterious—reply over the deafening pulsating of your heart.

⤷ “Just someone.” He mutters. But you see it, you notice what you prayed was merely an illusory of your culminated fears; he wouldn’t take his eyes off them. Not even as he replied to you. Not even as you tightened the grip on your intertwined hands. He wouldn’t stop looking at them.

⤷ In that moment, you could only describe it as the relentless tearing of your fragile heart. The desire to be his faithful partner in which such devotion is reciprocated is tattered with disdain.

⤷ You’re replacable. In what you believed were the earnest eyes of Kokichi Oma, you were to be repudiated.

⤷ As your eyes tear up and you begin to drag your boyfriend away, successfully garnering his attention away from that supposed stranger at long last, your blurred vision and hasty steps led you to miss the deviously depraved grin of his that was far too sinisterly crooked.

⤷ Your reactions, your blind fury and innermost apprehensions were so amusing; so comically enthralling. It’s no wonder he promises the two of you are sworn lovers; you never cease to stun him.

⤷ Once you two have reached a somewhat secluded area and far enough from the previous scene in which your heart ached to think about, you turned to Kokichi with such a catastrophic sheen of betrayal yet interlaced with the poison of envisage. You had expected this, hadn’t you?

⤷ “Why?” The words hang in the tense air as you peer down at the ground below, unable to meet his eyes in which—to your expectancy—darkened with the tainting of rejection; rejection of you.

⤷ This was a game that seemed far too easy for the cunning boy. It was as though you’d granted him the key to your mind, allowing him to feverishly jeopardize your self-reverence.

⤷ “What do you mean?” It’s a simple question; a plead of elaboration. But Kokichi knows all-too-well what plagued root pollute his intentions. He wants to see you break. And it seems like he’ll be getting exactly what he wants.

⤷ “What do I mean? Kokichi, what do I mean?!” You sharply inhale, your breathing sporadic as tears spill from your eyes.

⤷ “Stop playing dumb for once! Just tell me, just say it to my face, Kokichi! Are you tired of me?!” It’s a shout that tears your throat raw, emotion seeping into each word, woven with the most intricate of desperation.

⤷ He sees how you’re beginning to lose yourself; losing your self-respect as you claw at all that he’s formulated to define you. It’s as he’d planned, you need him.

⤷ And it should’ve ended the moment he’d realized how far gone your independence has been muddled upon his taxing gambling upon your mind. But he didn’t. It was far too amusing to stop now. Your desperation for his affections to be for you—solely for you—were addictive, and he wanted more of it.

⤷ So, as he cradled you, drawing you closer and inviting you to seek comfort within his bodily warmth, he suppresses a wicked cackle.

⤷ Whispering promises that you were still the one whom held his heart captive; you, you, you! And as pitifully naïve as you are, you decide to believe in him once more.

⤷ Perhaps you’d never believed him, and rather seeked out an excuse that brought the most comfort to you. Attempting to piece together your fragmented self-assurance, you depended on the contentment of his promises. Even if they were nothing more than the lies you’ve come to confide in.

➤ NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ A sworn worshipper; Nagito will go to the ends of the Earth to prove his devotion to his darling. His heart belongs solely to you, interlocked between the weaving of your hypnotic web as he hails you.

⤷ He believes with the entirety of his worthless being that you are a divinity; a detiy amongst purposeless nobodies that serve as nothing more than your stepping stone. But he believes you are merciful.

⤷ After all, if you had not been so graciously charitable, you’d have no associated with a low-life such as himself. Much less, willingly put yourself in a relationship with him.

⤷ It’s a blissful thought; to think that he could mean something to someone. To have some sort of negligible value.

⤷ But it’s one that he cannot take to heart. His worth lies on whether or not he can serve you—his darling deity—to the best of his lousy ability. He’ll happily dedicate his life to you.

⤷ Far-too-gone in the abyss of infatuation, Nagito finds himself unable to properly comprehend how someone so ethereal—someone so celestial—couldn’t see their blinding eminence.

⤷ He genuinely believed the notion of insecurity was foreign to you; a vulnerability that the emobodiment of all that is heavenly shouldn’t identify with. And yet he is forced to acknowledge that his lover—his one true hope—is unbearably familiar with such a plagued enigma.

⤷ Your sporadic hues narrowing at those who meet eyes with Nagito. The common practice of smiles directed towards strangers irked you; they were smiling at Nagito. Was he familiar with them? How was their smile comparable to yours? Could it rival yours, the one he claimed to encapsulate his heart?

⤷ An inkling of doubt resided within you whenever another was involved with your boyfriend. You understood full-well how much he loved you, but love is as empowering as it is contagious.

⤷ You know that these fears are nothing more than that; a drop of blood in which dirties the pure waters of reassurance. You’re aware your reactions are exaggerated, a carciture in comparison to the situation. But then why did he bother to smile back?

⤷ The thought resides within the back of your consciousness as you ponder over it. Certainly, it was no big deal. But why did it spur such an ache within your heart? Why do you feel the insuppressible urge to vacate the vicinity right within that moment?

⤷ It hurt to think. A torment so grand at the miniscule possibility that-that mutual exchange of smiles meant something more. Was it possible for Nagito—who pledges full allegiance with you as his faultless god—to fall through the clutches of your claim?

⤷ He devoted himself to you, that much you were sure of. Upon your first true meeting, he terrified you to your very core. You insisted that there was something wrong with him; something sickeningly distorted within his fogged mind of fixation.

⤷ But over time, after the relentless admissions that he wants nothing more than to serve you; worship you; love you; you’d eased into his proclomations. His depravity, albeit sinister and channeled with great fault, was out of his love for you; his pure loyalty and devotion.

⤷ So why had you continued to doubt him? He told you himself, didn’t he? He loves you more than anyone else could, more than anyone else could ever be capable of. And despite this, he still admits to viewing himself as mere scum, unworthy of your love but whose purpose is to worship and hail you.

⤷ Could it be that he’d ever seek out someone he’d believe himself to be worthy of association? Would he truly leave you for someone he deemed, too, as lowly as him?

⤷ Your thoughts have riddled themself until there’s a gaping hole within your heart—a cavity that’s sunk itself deep within the caverns of your gravitated love—and within his home that you two enter, hand-in-hand, you allow your visage to crack.

⤷ One sob after another, your knees give out from beneath you, harshly meeting with the wooden floorboards.

⤷ The sound startling Nagito as he turns to you with concern evident within the stitch of his brows. Instantaneously, he drops to where you were seated on the floor, weeping away as sobs scratched your throat raw.

⤷ “My love, what’s wrong?” He questions. His heart thumping within his ears as he cradles you, swaying your bodies ever-so-slowly in order to soothe you. Thus your crying turned erratic as you clutched against the fabric of his jacket.

⤷ He holds you so gently, he embraces you with such a warmth pooling from his heart. Did you really have any right to doubt him?

⤷ Yet it spurs such pain as the flashing of his reciprocated smile loops within your mind. Over and over, eating away at your self-restraint as you blubber; Did that smile mean anything?

⤷ He pauses, attempting to register your words. But they’re far too vague for him to properly process, and he pulls away from the embrace to face you with a perplexed countenance.

⤷ “Y-You smiled at that one person a-and—and...I just felt—“ Before you could continue, a sob escaped between your quivering lips. Your throat ripped dry as you began to question why you were crying so hard.

⤷ But before you could continue, Nagito pulled away from the embrace completely. Unfortunately, putting the worst possible conclusion within your mind as your break down was amplified.

⤷ Why did he move away? Why, why, why, why, why? Is this it? Have you finally wrung out your time with him? Is it finally over?

⤷ Though your momentary doubt was put to a halt as Nagito presses his hands against his chest, gesturing towards himself, frantically.

⤷ His eyes dilated with depravity interlaced by the seams of desperation. His lips curled into a crooked grin as his breathing came out in sporadic huffs.

⤷ “No, no, no, no, no! My beloved hope, this is just a misunderstanding.” He confesses. His hands visibly shaking as he seems to tremble from the possibility that his darling deity would ever be put under such pain from his incompetence to outwardly convey his true, unhindered love.

⤷ “I’m merely scum beneath the soles of your shoes, I’ve caused this minsinterpretation due to my ignorance. I shouldn’t even weild the right to say, my beloved, please forgive me.” He rambled. With each word, his breathing was becoming more prominent to you. It’s heavy; panicked; furious.

⤷ “I promise to you, I am solely yours. Your stepping stone towards renouncing the world of its despair. Your follower even through the flames of societial Hell. I am yours, and only yours.” His hand move to grab a hold of yours, but he quickly shrinks back in disgust at his audaciousness. How dare he grab at the hands of such divinity?

⤷ And thus, he reels his hands back and clutches his throat. His nails digging into the supple skin as he releases a breathy chuckle. His eyes blown open with a sheen of insanity, you find yourself thrust into the fear you’d experience upon first meeting him; when his luck had been particularly bad that day, and you caught him situation outside your bedroom window.

⤷ His erratic, turbulent temper terrified you. The way he dug his fingers further into his throat, clawing at the skin until the salmon-tinted lines began to trickle with deep, crimson. His pale skin stained with his own blood as he kept tearing at his throat.

⤷ “I deserve the worst of punishments for enforcing such despair upon you! Being killed within a millenial of lifetimes could never be enough to repent for the sins that the trash that I am has committed!” He shouts. You gasp, fearing for his wellbeing as he continuously attempts to pry the skin of his throat open; an inevitable suicide if he continued.

⤷ “Stop! Nagito, stop!” You scream, tears blurrying your vision considerably. Yet as his figure turned to abtract forms of color, you could still make out the sickeningly red blobs. He was bleeding, he was bleeding so much.

⤷ Prying his blood-stained hands from his throat that—if he’d continued—would’ve been torn to shreds. Your breathing loud and hiccuped, whilst his is mellow and nearly inaudible. It must hurt to breathe.

⤷ “Why? Why, why, why, why?!” You question, fear woven into your eyes as you tighten your grip on his wrists for reassurance; the assurance that he won’t proceed to try and kill himself.

⤷ He smiled, though as he attempted to speak, he coughed up remanence of what he’d inflicted; blood mixed with his saliva as he attempted to regulate his breathing.

⤷ He needed to go to a hospital and he needs to go now. But as you attempted to carry him to the front door, your phone in hand dialing an ambulance, Nagito presses his thumb against the end call button.

⤷ You face him with a panicked and agitataed expression. Is he truly hellbent on dying? All because of the conveyance of your insecurities?

⤷ “Don’t...Can’t.” He voices. Though it’s so hoarse and mangled that you could barely understand his words. But with a bit of thinking, you find yourself deducing a reason behind his rejection of professional aid.

⤷ Even if you got him to a hospital, you’d inevitably have to explain what’d occurred. And informing them of his attempted suicide would surely have him hospitalized for much longer or even transfered to a clinic. Nagito always told you that any moment spent without you is the eye of true despair.

⤷ Why had you doubted him? Why couldn’t you suppress yourself? His pain, his injury, it was all your fault. You know he devoted himself to you and through extremes such as this.

⤷ You flung his arm over your shoulder, carefully treading towards the living room as you set him down upon the couch, ready to fetch the first-aid kit.

⤷ You can fix this. You can make up for your mistakes, and help him. This is your fault, all your fault! But you can still fix it, right? You can still make it right, yeah? It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.

⤷ As you laid him down on the coach, his throat now barely trickling as he winces from the pain, he gazes up at you with such sincerity you find yourself in tears once again. “I love you, and I would happily die for you. I’m sorry for what my worthless self has caused you.”

⤷ His words force you into a state of fear. How could he speak of his death so easily? It unnerved you, yet you consistently reminded yourself that he wouldn’t die. The wounds are shallow, thankfully. He would live.

⤷ But that doesn’t alleviate the guilt as you choke back a sob, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips before pulling away. The tears from your eyes cascading and rolling onto his cheek, a now painful intimacy. Never agin would you allow yourself to succumb to the clutches of your insecurity. “I love you too. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Kentucky Calling

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: T Word Count: 1426

Summary: Beth calls Benny up, hoping to talk a few things through after Russia, and finds him just as eager to hear her voice as she is to hear his.

“What?”

Beth’s eyebrows rise at Benny’s fed-up tone.

“Well, this isn’t the greeting I was expecting.” She smiles against the receiver.

“Beth?”

“That’s right,” she says with a laugh in her voice. “Who am I supposed to be?”

He groans and her smile widens, sure his irritation is not for her.

“The fucking State Department.”

“Why are you angry at the State Department?”

“They wouldn’t give me any details about you, when you were expected back. I managed to keep one son of a bitch on the line half an hour, but he just squirmed the whole time, refusing to share your itinerary. Where are— You’re back,” he says with sudden realization.

She hears him calm and uses the change to judge how worried he was a moment ago. Fairly worried, Beth decides. Oh, Benny.

“Yep. In Lexington as we speak. Calling from my own kitchen.”

He sighs.

“You might’ve let me know.”

“You know, I asked on the plane, but the pilot just wouldn’t radio the control tower to call you up for me,” she jokes. She laughs.

“So, did you give them the slip?”

“More or less. The State Department’s itinerary didn’t align very well with mine at the end there. I stayed a couple extra days to actually experience a little of the city and then flew home by myself.”

“Huh.”

“Benny?”

“Yeah?”

Beth grips the phone.

“Are you going to forgive me for worrying you? Now that I’ve confirmed they didn’t lose me over the Atlantic?”

“You yes. Them? No. Those bastards deserve a little hassling after they didn’t fund your trip. They pay a guy to watch you every waking goddamn minute, plus his flight, his room—how much does that cost?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been sitting around harassing the government on my behalf,” Beth says wonderingly, partly to head off Benny’s building rant. The man loves to talk.

“Well, the others got sick of me, as you can imagine.”

“Harry? Matt? The others? They’re still with you?”

“Can’t get rid of ‘em. They’ve been celebrating since you won and sleeping that off until midafternoon. When they drag themselves out to have lunch somewhere, I… well, I sit around with the phone to my ear, on hold, looking for you.”

“I beat him,” she whispers, because she can finally break the news to him herself.

“You did.” She can feel Benny smiling in the long pause. She’s doing the same. “I saw the writeup of your moves; looked like the most expensive phone call I’ve ever made was worth something.”

“It meant a lot. If you hadn’t had a clue about what I should try next against Borgov, it would’ve meant the same.”

“Look. I’m… I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did before you left. I felt terrible about it right away.”

“Good. And I…” Beth takes a deep breath that she’s sure he can hear. She twists the phone cord around her finger and tilts her head back against the wall. “…I shouldn’t have pushed you away in the first place. I hurt you, I could hear it in your voice, and—”

“I don’t need excuses. It was shortsighted of me to get defensive. What you were trying to accomplish was bigger than me.”

She agrees with a hum and adds, “Yes. Beating communists in the name of Jesus is for the good of us all.”

She thrills at his burst of laughter.

“How the hell did you pay for Moscow without them?”

“Jolene. You’ll meet her sometime, I hope.”

“If that means I can see you again, I’d be glad to.”

Now, there’s a distinct lack of breath because they both seem to be holding it.

“You will,” she says. After grazing her gaze thoughtfully around the kitchen, Beth frowns and remembers something. “Did the papers say anything about how Borgov looked at the end of the match?”

“They said he took the defeat with dignity. That he hugged you—is that true?”

She rolls her eyes at Benny’s poorly disguised annoyance.

“Yes, but I mean his face. He seemed at peace. Like I had helped him, somehow. Other people I’ve played, and I’m sure people you’ve played too, have this franticness, this terrifying, transparently obvious floundering quality. They don’t know what they’re going to do with the next five minutes of their life after losing, never mind months or years. But Borgov knew. His wife and son were always with him. I think, at the end, he was ready to be with his family.” She waits a second or two, mentally checking and confirming her next move before she speaks. “That’s what I want too.”

“I— What is this, Beth? A proposal?”

She laughs and clutches the phone as she shakes her head.

“Of course not. I just want you to know that you’re important to me.” Her voice grows solemn and fond. “Thank you for calling. I’ll never forget it.”

“I guess I had enough to get to Moscow with you after all,” Benny says, speech softening similarly until he sounds impossibly intimate. Like he only really has that time he said he missed her. The fact that he’s more vulnerable like this than he is face-to-face is something Beth enjoys about them being far enough apart to need to call. He clears his throat. “So it’s good that you weren’t trying to propose, because we know my, uh, allocation of funds could use some improvement and you don’t need to saddle yourself with that.”

“I certainly don’t. I have three thousand dollars to pay back to Jolene and then… I don’t know. Keep paying for the house.”

Beth twirls her hand in the air to indicate it, though he’s not there to see. If she tries, she can picture his leather jacket folded over the back of a chair, his hat tossed carelessly onto the counter. It’s not a bad picture. Definitely not the worst domestic vignette this place has ever staged.

“Grand plans.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Make fun of the woman who just annihilated the World Champion? I wouldn’t dare. You’d drive straight out here and do to me what you did to Borgov. I can only be humbled like that so often.”

“Once every fifteen years?” she prompts.

“Hmm, ideally, but I won’t be able to resist playing you that long.”

“Well, I won’t go easy.”

“Going easy would only insult me,” Benny assures her.

“Got it. You prefer being beaten so thoroughly that I have to sweep the ashes of your ego off the board afterwards. Like dust.”

“I’m not rushing to play you again after that comment.”

“We could do something else. When I see you,” Beth elaborates, feeling herself perk up, her back straightening. “We don’t have to play chess.”

“The two of us, not playing chess.” He sounds like he’s genuinely contemplating it. “That’s original, but I don’t think it’d last very long. How much of the time we’ve shared has been spent not playing chess? I’ll tell you: very little.”

“But it’s possible. Whether or not you’ll stop talking about chess, on the other hand…”

“I—ha—I do remember a particular instance of you being ticked off at me about that.”

Whether or not Beth has consciously led them there, they’ve arrived. At least he can recall that going over strategy immediately after they had sex didn’t impress her, though he was befuddled by her brusqueness at the time.

“You wanna show me that you’ve learned from that?” she challenges.

She hears the groan he must be muffling behind his hand.

“If I told you in full how badly I want to show you that, we’d be running up another big telephone bill.”

Beth smiles coyly to herself and taps her fingernail against the back of the receiver.

“How big, Benny?”

“Beth, I— Hey, you’re back!” His voice is louder and she understands it’s for other people, the friends who have reentered his apartment. “No, idiot, she doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t have to tell me, I already know.”

“Tell them all I hope to see them soon,” she pipes up to reclaim Benny’s attention. They can’t carry on now.

She hears him deliver her message before his voice sinks low again for her, his audience of one.

“Can you come to New York?” he asks. It has the ring of a riddle with all the times he’s posed the question to her before.

“Fuck that,” Beth says, grinning. “I’ll see you in Kentucky the day after tomorrow.”

[noblecrumpet-dorkvision]

Gamifying D&D Encounters

Encounters in Dungeons and Dragons can be fun, but how do you make it so the battle isn’t just taking turns repeatedly taking the attack action? How can you encourage players to move around and make meaningful, tactical decisions? My solution is to think about how to gamify your encounters.

What exactly does it mean to make an encounter more “game-like?” D&D IS a game, so isn’t it game-like by default? Well, yes. But here, I’m talking about turning encounters into puzzles or riddles for the players to figure out, or making players think about when to use certain actions and where to best position themselves. If players “solve” the encounter and “play” their strategies effectively, they will be able to more easily tip the encounter in their favor.

The way a gamified encounter should go is thus:

Creatures in the encounter take actions

Players identify threats or weaknesses based on those actions

Players take steps to mitigate threats or take advantage of weaknesses they have identified on their turns.

Creatures continue to fight, but are now less effective.

Players feel accomplished for their cleverness.

(Optional) Enemies then change up their tactics, learning from the players and increasing the encounter’s complexity. Repeat.

There are several ways to go about gamifying your encounters. You don’t have to give your encounters every single one of these traits, but adding two or three will help push the encounter’s depth.

Several of these use examples from two boss battles I posted, which can be found here: Ilesstra and Kormak.

Creating Patterns

Give your creatures, particularly single-monster encounters, some sort of consistent pattern for players to recognize. This way, the players will get stymied the first time, but then the next round will be able to react appropriately. Keep in mind that Medium encounters typically last 3-4 rounds, which means the pattern needs to be pretty obvious that it will repeat. Players may not even realize it repeats until the second round, which means they only have a few rounds left to seize the advantage!

Samples:

Ilesstra: Ilesstra’s lanes in her lair’s battle map can fill with poison from obvious pipes on the map. Once players realize their significance and effect, they can work out a strategy to avoid them.

Kormak: Powering up his crystal takes a noticeable cause and effect by taking an action to charge (making it glow) by powering down once its charge is spent (so it’s no longer glowing). Players can visually see when Kormak is hard to hit and about to hit hard and conversely when his abilities and defenses are weak.

Synergizing Abilities

Your encounter can involve synergy. This can be between two creatures and their abilities, a creature and its environment, or between a creature’s own abilities. Players should be able to pick up on this synergy so they can attempt to disrupt it to their advantage. Often, synergy involves one part of the encounter being in a sometimes-state, then another part of the encounter gets more powerful when the other is in that state. 

In fact, the encounter could actually synergize to the players’ benefit.  Perhaps a creature could freeze players in ice while another creature’s thunder attack can shatter the ice thunder damage. Players could try to coerce the thunder creature into freeing their trapped companions.

Samples:

Ilesstra: Poisoned creatures take additional damage from her, and her actions can poison creatures in her lair. Her pet can drag away creatures attacking her.

Kormak: His crystal enhances his minor abilities when it’s charged. His minions jump in front of attacks with reactions.

Alternative Targets

If you have meaningful targets in the encounter other than the creatures, players will be tempted to use their actions to deal with those rather than the creatures, which can create a dilemma. Players only have so many actions, so using them on a different target has to be worth it for them; it should give them a meaningful advantage to do so.

Putting an innocent life in danger or having a target that is making a boss monster superpowered is a valid excuse to change focus. The idea is to split the players’ attention between at least two things so that they need to evaluate allocating their resources or action economy.

Samples

Ilesstra: If a pipe in her lair is destroyed or plugged, it will create a permanent safe zone for the players that won’t fill with poison gas. Her pet crocodile is actively trying to drag people into the water below, which can prove bothersome.

Kormak: If Kormak’s crystal is destroyed, he can no longer gain temporary HP or empower his attacks. If his allies are slain, he can no longer defer the damage he takes.

Alternative Victory Conditions

Adding a new way to “win” the encounter will make players need to decide between attacking the enemies or trying to achieve victory through the other means provided. Types of alternate victories might include:

Escaping the Lair

Grabbing the Macguffin

Disabling the Doomsday Device

Rescuing the Hostages

Stopping the Ritual

Completing the Ritual

Defending the Payload

Destroying the Villain’s Power Source

Racing to the Finish

Solving the Puzzle

The circumstances will always depend on your campaign, but you can always provide a miniature goal inside of an isolated encounter.

Ilesstra: Destroying the pipes that emit poison gas will put an end to her main form of attack, possibly forcing her to retreat.

Kormak: Destroying his crystal will severely weaken him, potentially causing him to retreat.

Hotspots and Safezones

Everyone knows adding environmental factors to a battle map will make it more interesting. It gives players ways to hide, cover for arrowfire, and hazards they must avoid and use to their advantage. When designing an encounter, particularly for boss battles, try adding some areas that are harmful for the players. Perhaps there are lava pits with trapdoor grates above them that the enemy can open, or maybe the enemy has an area attack that the players can work around. 

The goal is to give players areas that they are aware are dangerous and areas they know are safe so that they can take advantage of it or plan their actions around it. Bonus points if the areas move in a regular pattern.

Samples

Ilesstra: Her lair has three lanes that can be filled with poison gas using her action. Players can hide in the small space between the lanes or in the water below the grates. An alternative strategy for players is to spread out and limit the maximum number of targets since she can only affect one “lane” at a time.

Kormak: His crystal is trapped by the magic circle surrounding it, and his minions can attempt to push PCs into it.

Vary Enemies

An easy way to make an encounter require more thinking is to use different types of enemies with different abilities. Players will have to consider strategies for each different creature separately, which makes things different. Perhaps certain players will be better at facing one enemy, but not the others, forcing them to adjust their focus.

Samples

Ilesstra: She has a giant crocodile companion that is inoculated and immune to poisons. While Ilesstra is more of a glass cannon with low hit points and AC but high damage thanks to poison, the crocodile is a brute that can grapple creatures away from its master and hold them in a hotspot area.

Kormak: Kormak is a spellcaster and controller while his Barbed Devil minions are brutes.

Additional Phases

Give your encounters multiple, distinct phases that they enter once circumstances are met. These might be when a certain number of enemies are defeated, when the boss drops to half their hit point maximum, or when an alternative victory condition is met. Once this triggers, the encounter changes in a fundamental way to force players to change their tactics. Essentially, you’ve added a mechanical twist instead of a narrative. The best examples are from World of Warcraft raids where the bosses will have different phases.

Discoverable Vulnerability or Strength

The creatures have something obviously strong or weak about them that the players can easily identify in one round. Once players identify it, they can attempt to take advantage of a vulnerability or dampen/avoid the enemy’s strength. 

A vulnerability might be taking damage from a unique damage type, a character flaw that can be goaded into a bad decision, a macguffin that holds all their power, or perhaps they simply have certain targets on their body that can be hit at +5 AC but for double damage.

Meanwhile an enemy’s strengths should hopefully be visible right away. Players should have a good idea what a given creature is good at or what its abilities are as soon as a fight starts, whether this means it was foreshadowed earlier or is revealed in their appearance or attack methods. Players know what to do against a glass cannon rogue and a tanky bruiser warrior or a controlling mage. Likewise, if they find an unknown creature surrounded by petrified humanoid statues, they will know to keep their distance in case they befall the same fate. Their insights should be rewarded and should influence their thinking. Players should never feel totally unprepared.

Samples:

Ilesstra: Her strength is primarily using poison damage, but she is physically weak. Meanwhile, her companion giant crocodile is mentally weak but physically strong. These are both readily-apparent.

Kormak: His crystal visibly charges to empower his abilities and protect him; destroying it will hinder his powers. His strength lies in fire magic, which he and his minions are both immune to.

Moral Quandary

Adding a question of morality to an encounter is a good way to make it not only impactful but also create more decisions for players to make. Perhaps there are innocent lives in danger. Do players risk their lives and spend their valuable action economy to save them? Or do they let them perish to optimize their mechanics and defeat their foe?

Simply adding a hostage or bystanders can do the trick for the average encounter. For boss battles, though, you can increase the stakes even further. Perhaps killing the villain will somehow make things worse for the greater good, giving the players pause mid-combat. Maybe the villain is related to one of the players, or has charmed someone the players love into fighting them to the death. Maybe destroying the boss will take more time than it will to stop their cultists from finishing their spell to open a gate to Hell, so players will have to ignore them and stop their minions instead.

Morality can make fights much more interesting because it forces players not just to consider their strategy, but also their values.

Summary

Basically, the thesis of gamifying encounters is to force players to change their tactics each round, but in a way that makes players feel cunning and smart. Take all these tips into consideration and try and make your homebrew boss battles and encounters special:

Create Patterns

Synergize Abilities

Provide Alternative Targets

Provide Alternative Victory Conditions

Make Hotspots and Safezones

Vary the Enemies

Additional Phases

Discoverable Vulnerabilities or Strengths

Create a Moral Quandary

[yan-twst]

Hiii!!~~ Could you please do a HC about the yandere dorm leaders reacting when they rejected by S/O, because S/O already likes someone else and also intends to confess their feelings to their love interest, please?

warnings: general yandere themes, manipulation, death / violence mentions

riddle rosehearts

he goes red in shame and anger when he’s turned down- it takes all his restraint to at least act  properly and not immediately blow his lid

how- how can this be?! his darling, the one he’s been pining for this whole time- suddenly it turns out they have a crush on just, some random heartslabyul student?!

he knows his darling is going to confess- but first he’ll try his best to discourage them. the poor soul who happens to be his darling’s crush will have it rough

riddle will pile on near impossible tasks to said student, publicly humiliating him for his failures and going off with his head as the whole dorm watches; however, instead of making his darling dislike their crush, he just makes them feel pity for the poor soul, and also dislike riddle even more...

however, he won’t give up. he has no shame in pressuring the student his darling likes in such a tyrannical way they probably break down and drop out- if not... well, it might be off with their head in the actual sense of the word. nobody can have his darling, only him; and now that the pesky crush is out of his way, he’ll declare his love again

... and if they say no once again? well, then he’ll be forced to take the route of force to make them love him... so they better make the correct choice when he asks them to love him!

leona kingscholar

he’ll act unbothered and aloof when he’s rejected, despite being incredibly mad. and then- then his darling says something like “it’s not you, it’s just, there’s someone else i like!” and that makes his blood boil.

so they found someone better, hm? better than the useless, lazy second born prince, huh? well, he doesn’t care- he’s already decided he’ll have his darling, and if they don’t love him that’s their problem to deal with

but first... he’ll get rid of whoever it is that ruined his initial confession by taking away his darling’s heart

he isn’t one for subtleties or behind the scenes work; he’s a lion, a predator, and he has pride on his strength. so a whatever, no-name savanaclaw student thinks they can just take away his darling’s heart...? hah.

he kills them. plain and simple, no pomp and circumstance- they were in the way, so leona got rid of them. easy. it wasn’t even hard; he didn’t even use his unique magic.

when news break out of a mangled, bloody corpse being found, he’s right by his darling’s side as their eyes widen and tears form at the news. aw, did their little crush die? how tragic... 

he won’t say he did it, but the look and smile he gives his darling is more than enough of a confirmation and a threat- so, he’ll ask them again... now will they become his lover, or would they preffer to make him angry again?

azul ashengrotto

from the outside, it looks like he takes the rejection like a champ. a surprised “oh!”, and apology for wasting his darling’s time. when they mention they have a crush on another octavinelle student, he’ll even wish them luck on their confession!

... but that’s just on the outside. inside, he’s practically having a meltdown. how?! is he not good enough?! what the hell does that random octavinelle wimp have he doesn’t?!

he already ruins people’s lives for a living; it’s nothing to him to do so again. he easily fools the student who his darling likes into a contract; something easy, something dumb... the answers for trein’s upcoming quiz, and in exchange, they swear they won’t accept any love confession this month. the student accepts readily, as azul reminds them: break the contract and they’ll be working for him!

so of course, when his darling confesses... the panicked student turns them down. of course, he can’t say why- the clause in the contract forbids him, so he has to leave azul’s darling heartbroken and confused... and that’s when azul swoops in

oh, no! what a cruel bastard, to break their heart like that! he’ll come in and act as a comforting friend, a shoulder to cry on... meanwhile, the leech twins silently get rid of the student; after all, he’s no longer needed!

letting azul close is the first fatal mistake; now that he’s gotten his darling close, he’s not letting go... even if they want him to, they’ve sealed their fate

kalim al-asim

he’d be quite heartbroken when his darling rejects him, telling him that they’ve actually liked another scarabia student for a long time, and were planning on confessing... however, he’ll take it with a smile! it’s ok!

but... well, it really isn’t. he doesn’t want to be a spoiled little heir, but...! he’s so not used to not getting what he wants! he’ll feel terrible about doing it, but he’ll try to make the confession fail

the easiest way? well... he feels super scummy and bad, but he approaches the scarabia student and explains the situation; kalim just really likes this person, but they like them- so... and in the end, it’s a simple deal; some gold coins and jewelry, and the student is more than happy to turn kalim’s darling down

even though he feels quite bad about what he did, he tries to justify it. well, if the student took such a shallow brive, then they’re surely a materialistic and bad person...! his darling deserves better, right?

like promised, the student doesn’t even show up to the scheduled time when kalim’s darling was going to confess. kalim watches froma  distance as his darling waits and waits, eventually giving up and running to their room

he won’t act too fast. he already feels terrible about what he did, he can’t just try to force his darling to love him... right? he’ll be content to just be able to comfort them and be close to them at first, but... ah, it’s no good! he wants more! he’ll confess again and again, and eventually his darling will say yes... or he’ll have to do yet another thing he won’t like

vil schoenheit

he’s shaken to his core. how- what?! does his darling even know who they’re turning down?! clearly, his darling can sense his confusion and shock. they tell him that yes! he’s very beautiful- probably the most beautiful, but... their heart was already taken by another pomefiore student...

vil cannot believe this. he’s very much a mother hen over the pomefiore students, but to think his care and guidance would lead to another person being the one to take his darling’s heart...! he seethes thinking that the skincare tips he’d given to that student were now contributing to the skin of the person who was stealing away his beloved.

at first he just wants to ruin the other student’s appearance to maybe make his darling not want to confess- vil watches as the pomefiore student panics over his skincare routine suddenly not working, their shampoo not making their hair as nice as before... but deep down, he knows it’s not enough. his darling isn’t the sort of person to fall in love just for looks: if they were, then, they’d love him!

so he feigns worry when the student suddenly falls terribly ill. oh, no, boo hoo. everyone doubts the student will even make it, and it makes vil’s blood boil when he knows his darling is trying to cheer the student up until the day their crush tragically dies

does he feel bad? not much. if that student was truly a good pomefiore member, he should be well versed in poisons; if the idiot couldn’t realize he wasn’t ill, but rather poisoned, then he wasn’t worth vil’s worry

and now, he can monopolize his darling; they’re so heartbroken and busy grieving, they can’t even tell vil is isolating them slowly, keeping them under his control... and soon, he’ll tell them he loves them again, but it won’t be a confession: it’s a statement, and his darling better reply they love him too, unless they want him to break out the love potions

idia shroud

ugh- god! he worked all his courage to confess, and then- he gets turned down...? he wants to die, right now, on the spot. even while his darling panickedly tries to explain that they just happen to like another person from ignihyde, idia is too depressed to even care

another ignihyde student... ugh, of course. of course he can’t even have love! this sucks- he can’t sleep, he can’t concentrate on games... his darling and their rejection keep echoing in his head

despite him being one of the least athletic students, and usually stepping out of danger’s way, love has an amazing way to push people to do things they usually wouldn’t. for example, he’d never even dare to think of killing anyone, leave alone one of his dormmates, but... as he drags the corpse towards the forest, adrenaline on peak, that’s just what he’d done

god, videogames make this look so much easier. he feels queasy and disgusted, the blood is warm but running cold, the corpse is so heavy and rigor mortis is setting in- he feels like giving up, but... he has to return. he has to return to his darling; surely, after this grueling task, he’s earned their love, right?

when his darling worriedly tells him that an ignihyde student has gone missing, he tries to comfort them. well- ignihyde folk are secluded, odd people- perhaps he returned home without telling anyone...? the fact that he’s the dorm leader will calm his darling down; after all, why would he lie about this?

though he’d try to be patient, he doesn’t have much time before he snaps. he wouldn’t even confess again. he’s already sure his darling won’t love him, so... just kidnapping them is fine for him- maybe he could buy some love potions...?

malleus draconia

ah... he seems to have miscalculated. he’d spent so much time with his darling he was sure they’d share his feelings, but he was wrong, it seems... well, he’ll thank them for at least thinking of him as a friend- even though he’s very clearly mortified at the rejection

so they like another man...? someone from diasomnia? despite being dorm leader, malleus doesn’t know the diasomnia students too well; after all, he’s never invited to the sorting ceremony, and students keep their distance...

so he gets lilia to help him identify the student. the ancient fae is quite intrigued; oh, the infamous love triangle! lilia offhandedly mentions that in cases like these on videogames and novels, it always ends with someone eliminating the person who their darling loves; and that idea sticks with malleus

what good is it to be so powerful, if he cannot use his powers for what he wants...? he already knows his love is bordering on obsession- so he’ll allow himself to be as immoral as he wants. if he’s seen as a scary monster, then, well, nobody should be too surprised when he does commit an atrocity, right?

with the help of sebek, lilia, and silver, dissapearing a body and cleaning blood is not a hard job; it’s almost like nothing happened at all. he simply tells crowley the student went out one night and didn’t return- no evidence says malleus had anything to do with it

he won’t tell his darling what he did- not at first. however... if they keep rejecting him, he’ll finally say it: let go of the hope of their crush ever returning. he’s gone- dead. he made sure of it. and truly, knowing malleus hold such a dark side- who would be so stupid as to reject him again, really?

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only) | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten | chapter eleven | chapter twelve | chapter thirteen (ao3 only, smut) | chapter fourteen

chapter 14 - prince

SFW, around 4.7K words. Heisenberg is a man of absolutely no feelings I guarantee you

Heisenberg has never done this before, not in almost a hundred years of existence, this tangling of limbs and shirking of duties. He has never once given in to such base urges without careful thought and consideration, instead preferring his encounters planned, short and sweet, in and out before anyone could get attached. He racks his brains looking for things to say once she is awake, for ways to tell her that this means nothing and that they will go back to being flirty acquaintances who spoke to each other in riddles. He digs deep into his thoughts to bury his feelings, refuses to acknowledge their existence long before they can rear their ugly heads. He breathes in, eyes closed, to gather his confidence, to build his persona like he did with the dawn of each new day. Whoever Karl Heisenberg truly was, truly wanted to be, he died every morning and was replaced by a driven, heartless monster.

She was a smart woman, she would get the hint. He will unwrap her arms from his torso, put his clothes back on and make some stupid comment about how she had a pair of tits to die for, but he had already been far too generous by gracing her with his presence this long. Then he will smirk and exit stage left, hold the mask until he is out of sight and has entered the forest, and will finally be done with the theatrics. Perfect plan, until his breath catches in his throat when she first stirs, fingers sleepily caressing his chest like she did the night before. He curses her for never making things easy on him.

She seems confused as she pulls away from him, her lazy stretch reminding him of a cat after a long nap. Her face has softened some, the usual furrow of her brow relaxed, deviant smile replaced with one of pure serenity, like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. “Good morning, my lord,” she greets as she rubs sleep away from her eyes, and he is glad to notice her tone has changed, away from the throes of their passion and back to the casual nonchalance they had become used to treating each other with. “Did you sleep well?” He has no intentions of answering and she does not expect it, either, slides off the couch to gather their clothing scattered about. She hands him his without looking at him, dresses in silence as he does the same. The silence is tense but not awkward, like they were both content to ignore the existence of the other and of everything that had happened between them just hours prior. “Are you staying for breakfast?” The implication that she did not expect him to is crystal clear. If there was any hope of staying longer in his mind, she had quelled it quickly with that question, like she was done with him for the day, perhaps enough to last her a lifetime. It stings, but he is glad for it.

Heisenberg busies himself with putting his clothes back on - whoever’s clothes those were in the first place -, oblivious to her pacing around the house. He believes he is out of the woods and her reserves of kindness have run dry, only to lift his head and find her holding a basket with a loaf of bread in one hand and his trench coat in the other. From afar he can see it looks ten times better than it did when he walked in wearing it, cleaner, for one, holes stitched back together. He doesn’t stay and she sees him off with the same joy she has always shown him, watching him as he grabs the trench coat and food, then his hat from a hook next to the door, waving him away like she has done every time. They sign an unspoken contract that dictates they never speak of it again, though the fine print reads that it is not off the table and might once again come to pass if the opportunity ever presents itself. His journey back to the factory is quiet and uneventful in more ways than one, the forest sleeps away the early hours of the morning and his mind is void of thoughts and worries. He cannot help but notice that the world feels different, brighter, more vibrant even, the wind not hostile and instead a gentle breeze.

Heisenberg seems enveloped in a mist of cheer and placidness for the days that follow, all he has set in motion moving along like clockwork. Sturm awakens unbidden one night, for good this time, both a blessing and a curse upon him. He manages to study its performance and sketch improvements, however finds that he has forgotten to install an off switch on the damn creature. The freak hums and whirs night and day like it is singing him the song of its people, sometimes joyfully, sometimes in mourning, and that he is able to identify when the fucking thing is happy or sad is a clear indication that he has been listening to it for far too long. A stab of guilt hits him every time he yells down towards the bowels of the factory to tell the monster to shut it, he needs to work and the noise is maddening, but he is always reminded that he is the reason for it all, he has bestowed them all with a new lease of life and now has to deal with the consequences. This is all for a good cause, he reassures himself, and once the rebellion is over he will see to it personally that those who remain are given a humane dismantling and burial.

Every now and again he visits his little witch in the woods, when his days could have been better and he needs a pick-me-up. They never speak of the stormy night and the things they had done, not unlike he had planned, but speak of everything else, and they slowly climb the steps to an awkward friendship that is never truly allowed to blossom. It felt as if every time they would give each other a key, an intricately designed, golden key that would open the lock in their hearts. And every time one would try to open it, they would find yet another, stronger lock, closer to the end but not quite, mystery maintained. It was infuriating and addicting all at once, and he had grown quite fond of the back and forth that had become the most exciting part of his life.

Happiness is a drug that he should not indulge on, he decides. Amidst his work he plans something other than rebellion, other than murder. Sketches something other than machines, looks out the window on the top floor of the factory to daydream about the cabin that stood long abandoned at the edge of his land. It was large for a home in this ass-end of the world, two floors and an attic, a cellar that was used for coal storage and doubled as secret entrance to a tunnel connecting the house and the factory. A fenced garden in the backyard, a shed for tools and firewood. The outhouse was awkwardly placed, too close to the edge, but he had always thought it gave it some extra charm. Answer nature’s call while being dangerously close to it, as it were. The masonry oven outside had not been used for at least half a century, and the well had probably dried up by now. It had been his home for many years, before Miranda took away everything that was theirs and his life with it, before he began dedicating his life to rebellion and dreams of freedom. His room was the one at the end of the corridor upstairs, with a view of the river and the forest extending beyond the confines of the village. It was cramped and cold, a single floorboard always rattled during the night when the wind hit it, the window never fully closed and his father never bothered to fix it. Still, it was home, or it had been, and he sometimes found himself thinking of the good memories he’d had before it all went to shit.

Could it be home again, he wondered? It would be one hell of a spring project, between clearing the debris, dusting and fixing everything up. Nails and the corrugated metal roof would not be a problem, naturally, and the stonework of the first floor was still intact. But he hadn’t fixed a fence in many years, hadn’t sawed nor sanded a plank of wood in longer still. He had never been very good at cleaning anything except weapons and machines, and interior decorating was simply something that had never gone through his mind. It could be a home again, he mused as he brought the blowtorch close to his face to light his cigar, and maybe it would do him good to step away from the damp vapors of the factory every once in a while. But then again, would it be worth the effort and upkeep? He doubted the haulers would make good housekeepers, and he was content enough with his independent, bare, unkempt bachelor lifestyle. But those had never been his intentions, had they? A home but not for him, a home for her, right where he could see her, where he could walk a few minutes and knock on her door whenever.

All strictly professional, of course. She would be effectively isolated from the village and the outside world. Effectively isolated from everyone but him, and he could keep tabs on her and call upon her services when necessary. It was a proposal she would be dumb to refuse: a home easily three times bigger than the one she owned, a larger plot of land for her animals and garden, peace and quiet, access to the Duke for supplies, and even some fun every now and again if she played her cards right. There was also the matter that she would be… Safer, living so close to him, but that was of little importance. Naturally. It had only just occurred to him. He had not begun at that, no. He will give it some more thought over the next few weeks - neither of them would be going anywhere, now would they?

Mother calls him later that day to inform of a family meeting two weeks and a half away, to discuss usual business. They will gather at Donna’s this time around, and it should give them all an opportunity to parade themselves to the public. This is important, you see, she begins like she always does, for their worshipers grow restless with their absence. Heisenberg often feels like she has trained the villagers as one would a dog: starve them for long enough and give them a meager treat to keep them going, teach them that their devotion is rewarded with small miracles brought by hellfire and the tearing of flesh by lycans. He has spent far too long away from the public eye and it is always good practice to remind the villagers of his splendor, she continues. He agrees to strut down main street, bless every crafter that he comes across, and kiss the top of the head of every snotty child pushed in his direction by their parents. He even agrees to wear his Sunday best: the same thing he wore every single day, but with a shiny pin in the shape of his house’s crest.

He conceives his greatest idea yet in the meantime, a soldier that combines the combat capabilities of Eins and Zwei with the mobility of an aircraft. He has Sturm to thank for it, the incessant spinning of the blades having given him the spark to try and create a flying machine. No propeller blades, he decides as the very first thing when he begins drawing the schematics. He has had enough of the noise to last him a good couple of decades. Unsurprisingly, he is caught in a trance of working and passing out and waking up to work some more in the weeks that follow, entire days spent combing through the scrap heaps to find the right materials. He is reminded that the goddamn bed had done wonders for his back every time he deadlifts another engine to pick apart, but still refuses to say goodbye to his uncomfortable armchair and the wonderful massage of its loose springs.

He figures the name for it will strike him at the right moment, and for now focuses on adjusting the thrust speed, ensuring the soldier will land adequately and not simply crash while airborne, as funny as that would look. While Sturm required a sturdy specimen, this will need someone lighter, lankier, and he finds the perfect specimen in Miranda’s latest failed experiment, a young boy of some twenty years who had been orphaned long ago and had turned to the Black God for guidance. In truth, he was nothing more than an errand boy for Mother, bringing messages to and fro, collecting tithe and offerings for her. Heisenberg is curious to know what horrible sin has led him to where he is now, dead and open on his operating table, a wound bigger than his fist where the top of his spine should be. Cadou had begun to take hold when he passed, tendrils shooting out of the infection, and he saved the recently dead nematode for further study later.

Removing the organs is always the messiest part, and he drops armfuls of guts into a nearby bucket to discard later. The boy has broken ribs and is missing his heart, a sign that he had greatly felt Mother’s wrath. Heisenberg almost pities him, alone in the world with nothing but his faith to keep him going, but sooner or later he would have to learn that was the way of the world. It had worked just fine for him, painful but invaluable. He had played the cards he had been dealt and come out on top. Perhaps in another life he would have reached out to give the kid a hand, take him in and give him a job, so long as he stayed out of his way and kept his mouth shut. But then again, perhaps in another life circumstances would not have turned him to a ruthless bastard only out for himself.

Setting up the tubing always takes the longest, delicate work that requires his full attention and steady hands. It feels like fighting an octopus at the best of times, and it is a fight he does not always win. He blows away a hair strand that insists on obscuring his vision, but all he succeeds in is having more of it fall onto his face, beads of sweat also finding their way down his forehead to pool on his brow and slide onto his eyelashes. He wishes he had an assistant every time he does this, every time he pulls a corpse open and finds that his body seems to get in the way every time more than the dead one does. He wishes he had an assistant, remembers the offer he never made her, and regrets it an instant later.

Suddenly his mind has wandered away from his subject on the operating table and has wandered off into a fantasy world, where his little witch gently pulls his hair back to tie it securely away from his face, where she dabs away the sweat on his face with a cloth that smells of wildflowers. She stands patiently next to him, takes notes and follows orders, brings him refreshments and even gives his shoulders a good rub when she feels he has been working too hard. A world where she awaits him every night after a long day, where she greets him with the comfort of home and a hearty meal. His focus is lost from that moment onward, for he is taken with the need to see her, to spend time sitting quietly beside her near the fireplace. To hold her and watch her fall asleep in his arms, to hear her laughter and exchange glib lines with her after dinner.

Goddamn witch.

The poor boy suffers the brunt of his annoyance when Heisenberg punches the side of his ribs, the body resists but does not complain and helps none with doing away with his wishes. What was he thinking, losing sight of his goals because he wants his cock sucked? This is why it was always so much better to stay indoors, to kill such annoying roaches on sight. His carefully constructed mental balance has tumbled, his nirvana disturbed. He was doing just fine before she decided to kill some random lycan and forgot to hide the fucking body. Bored, but just fine. Lonely, but fine. Incredibly depressed, but f-i-n-e. He tries in vain to return to his work once, twice, and gives up on the third time, finally accepting that it would be impossible.

Perhaps it is best if he gets it over with, no? This was but a momentary stumble. He had all but forgotten about her for the better part of a fortnight, having instead turned inward towards his work and growing his intel network by skulking around and reading through papers Miranda had ‘lost’ in transport. Just as quickly as he had latched onto her, he had let her go, back to the hum-drum day to day of developing his metal army.

Or so he thought, faced now with a burning need to walk, almost run towards the forest to catch a glimpse of her again.

He looks down at himself, for the first time conscious of how presentable he was, and decides that it is probably best if he wears something that is not covered in rotting chunks of flesh. Somehow he does not think she will mind it; she strikes him as the kind of woman who would think it adds to his charm. He changes into cleaner clothes regardless, the same moss-colored shirt she had given him the day he showed up at her cabin. An idea shines upon him as he tightens his shoelaces, and he is soon giving orders over the comm system to all haulers: clean the damn place up. Throw the garbage up and over the railings onto the scrapheap, hide it under a carpet, it doesn’t matter. He wants the place presentable enough for him to bring his little witch over - he will tell her a little bit of what he intends, he will show her some of his plans, and he will ask her to work for him. The cabin would take a while but she could always drop by for a visit. All that he has decided in the span of less than a minute, and he hopes there will be enough time for everything to be set up when he makes his way back, holding her hand tightly as he shows her all of the wonders he has created. He also hopes he can keep up the momentum and not soil the plan by chickening out a while later, though something in his mind tells him that might be best.

Heisenberg stops in front of a mirror-like metal plate to check out his hair and wipe the blood of his face, at last satisfied with his appearance and ready to make his next move. He almost skips through the factory on his way up and out of the garage. He is getting laid tonight, goddamn it.

He is surprised to find the Duke’s carriage standing just outside. It must be a Tuesday, though he feels like he last saw the man yesterday; the merchant always completed his regular schedule around the village by making a last stop near - and in - his humble abode. He had much to discuss with the Duke, things of both professional and personal nature, but now was not the time, and he walked by briskly and greeted the man with a tip of his hat, intent on simply passing by.

He knows something has gone terribly wrong when the Duke cackles, and he spots the familiar tail wag of a furry hoofed animal beside the carriage. Heisenberg stops dead on his tracks then, a cold tingle running up his spine, his mouth dry. He stares at the man, mouth agape, trying to form his question but failing miserably. Had something happened? Had the Duke known about her all along? Had he done something to her? The Duke is the first to speak, his usual jolly self, oblivious or uncaring for the situation that has begun to unfold in front of him. “Ah, Lord Heisenberg! How’s the day find you?” There is a pregnant pause as Heisenberg looks at the merchant and back at the tiny goat that bleats at him incessantly, and the Duke roars in laughter, his massive frame shaking the entire carriage. “Oh, it seems the little one likes you! Two hundred lei and it is all yours, my lord. Should be quite the tasty dinner.”

Prince seems to understand its predicament, and cries ever louder, until it is all they both can hear and the sound almost drives him insane. “Where the fuck did you get it?” Is all he manages to say, his tone vicious, but the Duke does not seem to mind it. He looks around for any other signs of her, the dog, or the horse, a chicken, anything.

“My friend in the woods has sold it to me, of course. She no longer has any use for it where she is going, and thought it best to rehome it.” The merchant’s hand reaches out to pet the goat on the head and the whole carriage almost topples over with the weight.

“You know her.” It is not a question, and though there is much he needs to ask there is little he is able to process.

“Indeed. We have been friends for many years, her and I. Since she was a malnourished little girl living under Lady Heisenberg’s protection. Since long before you were born, my lord.” The man takes a long drag from his cigar as if to give Heisenberg enough time to go through his words, and he is glad for it, mind racing a thousand miles a minute. A hundred and something years, the mention of his grandmother’s name. “She has always been quite the ravaging beauty, however. Although I’m sure that has not escaped your notice.” He can hardly contain his exasperation, not at all used to the feeling that currently boils within him. If that man had ever touched her- “She is quite a talented healer, you see. For many years now she has supplied me with the most wonderful of concoctions.” As if to prove it, he lifts up a bottle of the antiseptic he has become so famous for, gives it a little shake and flashes Heisenberg a bright smile.

“She’s gone.” Again he doesn’t ask, simply repeats the information he has been given, and wishes he had his hammer close by to crush that smirk off the Duke’s face.

“Why yes, she has left, of course. It would not be the first time,” the merchant says with a shrug. “A free spirit she is, always has been. Off to find herself some excitement and adventure, I’m sure. I have told her many a time that the village life does not suit her,” he puts the bottle down and interlaces his fingers in front of him, resting on his enormous stomach. “Yet she has come back every time. Sweet, idealistic Morganna, always so kind for her own good.” In his confusion, Heisenberg realizes he has forgotten to breathe, and inhales sharply, blow after blow though he tries to recover, and the Duke is relentless. “Ah, that reminds me, she has left something for you.” He is no longer listening after the Duke’s mouth closes, far too stunned to process what is happening. The blond man hands him a small wooden box that smells like her, and Heisenberg does not care that he can see how much his hands are shaking as he pushes off the lid. He does his best to swallow the rage and the tears that well up in his eyes, the bittersweet thought that she had remembered him before she parted. The woolen slippers lay perfectly arranged inside the box. “If you wish to find her, I am sure she has not made it very far.” Heisenberg continues to stare down incredulously, and the Duke continues to yap like nothing has happened. He has tuned out completely by the time he closes the box again and raises his head to face the merchant. He might as well have been a shadow, disoriented as Heisenberg was, his face a misshaped blob in his eyes. There is no space for thoughts and he lets himself go instead, anger bubbling so close to the surface underneath his skin.

He grabs the goat before the Duke can protest, tucks it safely under his arm, box secured in the other as he marches back inside the barn and closes everything behind him. Gone? The way down is hazy and red, one foot after the other, instinct taking him through the halls and down elevators. Gone. He feels the haulers’ gazes upon him, and hopes they won’t dare showing vestiges of humanity now, or he will kill every last one and set fire to the corpses. The door to his quarters is kicked with entirely too much force and flies off its hinges, he places Prince gently on the floor in the last showing of kindness he would ever allow himself. Gone! The box is thrown across the room and shatters against the wall, tears in his eyes, a strangled cry coming out of him before he can stop himself.

“She’s gone.” He repeats and the words feel like sand in his mouth. He knows them to be true and it only serves to hurt him further. Behind his eyelids, she takes him by the hand and skips down the stairs ever onward towards the darkness, and he knows he is far too weak to stop it now. He has no tools to explain any of it, the crying and yelling and the way his body has slid against the wall and onto the floor like a puddle of muddy, gooey, revolting water. One last bit of control tells him that he should not care, that she is not important, that this is good, that he is free from her grasp. But its screeches are drowned in the uproar within him, and all he can think of is that she is gone and he misses her.

He is once again alone in the world and, for the first time, he knows what heartbreak feels like.

[twstarchives]

Sebek Zigvolt・Voice Lines

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “Get to class now! You’re wasting time.”

Groovy “Someday I ought to teach you how you’re supposed to behave towards your superiors.”

Home Setting “I take close care of my appearance.”

Home Transitions “I was miraculously able to enroll at the same school as the Young Master. I’d like to watch his growing success from as close-up as possible.”

“I’m hungry... The bread from the school store isn’t filling at all. I want more meat.”

“I joined the horse-riding club because I thought it’d be wise to pick up practical activities. All knights should be able to ride a horse.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “To make sure that you’re not a threat to the Young Master, I’ve decided to observe you all day today. Don’t run out of sight.”

Home Taps “Styling my hair every morning is a chore, but I never want the Young Master to see me looking sloppy.”

“Silver is the only person I know in the Valley of Thorns from the same generation as me. ‘My friend’...? As if I’d call him a friend!” 

“The Young Master is also taking classes here. It’s 1000 years too early for us to be skipping them!!”

“I have a loud voice? What are you saying? Your voice is just too quiet!!”

“Are you trying to play tag? I’ve long since outgrown childish games like that.”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “As if I’d lose any contest! The training all of you have done is nothing compared to mine!”

Groovy “Want me to tell you my training routine? Only if you can keep up.”

Home Setting “Let me take you on.”

Home Transitions “To improve yourself, you need to eat well, work well, sleep well, and play hard! ...That’s what Master Lilia taught me.”

“I train so that I can be the Young Master’s sword and shield whenever he needs me.”

“I heard we’re having a long-distance race for our next PE class. I’m better at short-distance, though... No. You aren’t a guard without good stamina.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Why is your back hunched over like that? You look sloppy! Stick out your chest and fix that posture!”

Home Taps “Whenever I go to practice for the horse-riding club, the horses always get scared of me. I’m not going to eat them or anything. They’re so skittish.”

“Being left-handed often comes in handy when I’m sparring. But no matter which hand I use, my victories will always be in the name of the Young Master.”

“There’s no point in training without a reason. It’s important to me that I gain power to protect the Young Master.”

“Don’t waste your breath. All that matters while you’re training is willpower, persistence, and a fighting spirit!! That’s it!”

“You want to play soccer together? ...Alright. I certainly have no plans of losing to a human.”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “Your appearance reflects who you are inside. I won’t let a single wrinkle to pass.”

Groovy “You want to study with me? Very well. Show me what you’ve got.”

Home Setting “I don’t have any blind spots in today’s class either.”

Home Transitions “I’ll get the highest score on our next test. And then the Young Master will praise me...!”

“The environment in the greenhouse is just amazing. It’s warm, humid, and so easy to relax in there.”

“I learned everything that was covered in our lesson last period when I was in middle school. Education in the Valley of Thorns was very intensive.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “The most I’ll do is give you a few hints for your assignment. I’d rather not be dragged down during our joint class.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “You look exhausted. I’ll share some tips with you on how to remain focused.”

Home Taps “I’m very good at solving both numerical and chemical equations. But there’s never a need to use cheap tricks like that when the Young Master is around. Heheh.”

“Do you have any Awakening Potions? I want to try making Silver drink an entire bucket full.”

“Master Lilia gave me this drink. He said it’s an excellent beverage that lets you take in your meat, fish, fruits, and vegetables all at once!”

“I’m not good at art, since it’s so subjective. Subjects where the solutions are very clear is more my speed.”

“Stop tugging at my clothes. I can’t appear in front of the Young Master looking indecent!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Could you recommend a book for me? I’ll try reading it tonight.”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “The Young Master would never get upset over something as minor as a school assembly.”

Groovy “Hmph. Even you look befitting today.”

Home Setting “I don’t want to see the Young Master look so dejected...”

Home Transitions “As if I’d ever feel nervous at a school event of all things! Festivals in the Valley of Thorns are so much grander than this.”

“Have you seen the Young Master anywhere? I haven’t been able to reach him in a while. ...Don’t tell me he— ...Again?”

“It’s not worth having a ceremony if the Young Master isn’t participating. They should just stop it midway through.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “YOUNG MAAAASTER!! Where did you go...? Oh, perfect timing. Come look for the Young Master with me.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Grim was causing a ruckus again. I swear, I can’t believe how much of a pig he is. ...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Home Taps “Before coming to this academy, I spent an entire year dedicating myself to my studies. I did it because I had faith I’d be able to get into this school too.”

“No matter how alert you think you are, Master Lilia will always find a way to sneak behind you. Oh, see? Turn around.”

“I feel like I’ve gotten taller again lately. These robes might even end up being too small for me.”

“Do I look okay? Nothing’s out of place? It’s fine if I appear in front of the Young Master like this, right..? ...Oi, are you even listening to me?”

“Stop with that mumbling. If you want to say something then say it loud and clear!!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “The Young Master’s ideas are so grand. Sometimes, I can’t even begin to understand them. That’s why I admire him so much.”

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

This card was only obtainable during Sebek’s birthday event (Mar 15 - Mar 21, 2021).

Login on Birthday “Human, have you come to give me a birthday present? I see... Thank you! I was just giving the Young Master my gratitude earlier as well. I am the luckiest man at this school!”

Unlock Card “No matter if it’s my birthday, I’m not going to abandon my duties as a guard or stop being vigilant!”

“I-I never thought I’d be able to receive a birthday blessing from the Young Master... How lucky am I!!”

Groovy “Despite being a human, you’re celebrating to make me happy... I’ve improved my opinion of you, just a little. J-Just a little!”

Home Setting “Alright! I think I can still perfectly carry out my guard duties in this outfit.”

Home Transitions “This cutlery and tableware is placed in the wrong order. Did you not know I’m left-handed? You didn’t do enough research beforehand!”

“Lilia told me that ‘a sound soul lives in a trained body.’ I must not forgo my training, even on my birthday.”

“My magic manifested at a late age. When I was little, I always wanted to be like my older brother and sister, who could magically light the candles on a cake.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’ve gone hungry all day to get ready for this party. I only had three servings for lunch!”

Home Transition (Groovy) “I-I lost again... This may be a party game, but I can’t stand to keep losing to the likes of a human! One more round!”

Home Taps “Azul told me ‘I heard you liked Magical Analysis’ and gave me a rare book on it... but I feel like he wants something big in return.”

“Riddle gave me a special horseback riding lesson. You don’t often get a chance like that. I’ll remember it as a fond birthday memory.”

“Silver, that bastard! He gave me dumbbells as a gift! That can’t mean anything but him thinking my training isn’t enough!”

“Epel gave me a fruit carving of the Young Master. It’s an incredible piece of work... but there’s no way I could bring myself to eat it!”

“I-I hear an explosion!? What’s happening!? ...Oh, you’re popping party poppers? It’s so loud! You know you’re bothering the people around you!!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Here, I went and got you ten plates of food. ...You’re good with just one? Heh! I know you’re a human, but you eat so little.”

Duo Magic Sebek: “Let me thank you for your blessings, Cater!!!” Cater: “HBD, Sebek-kins~!”

Tutorial “Follow me, human! Make sure you commit the grand sight of the Young Master to memory.”

Lv Up “Did you see that!? Look at the progress I made!”

“I’ll be able to take even more action now with this!”

“Mm. Not bad.”

Max Lv Up “Maybe now I’ve turned into a man who can gain just a little of the Young Master’s approval. ...No, I shouldn’t act conceited. I need to get rid of these thoughts and focus on keeping myself devoted. Let’s go!”

Episode Lv Up “I always viewed you as nothing but a meager human, and yet you’ve become someone I rely on so much... You’re just always surprising me.”

Magic Lv Up “This power...! Young Master! Did you see that just now!? Wait... He’s not here. Kgh. That must mean this still isn’t enough...!”

Limit Break “I need to get even bigger, smarter, and stronger to be a proper servant for the Young Master!”

Groovy “I’m feeling happy and energized! This really does feel nice. Make sure you never forget all this success I’ve made!”

Lesson Select “Human! I decided to take a class with you today. Which one do you want? Hurry up and pick.”

“What? You look so nervous. Isn’t the point of classes you’re weak in to be a challenge for you?”

“Master Lilia taught me that your classes are just another part of your training. I’m not going to slack off in any of my subjects.”

Lesson Start “Let’s give today our all!”

Lesson End “Knowledge enriches the body and soul! Let’s work hard next time too!”

Battle Start “I’ll swallow you whole!”

Battle End “This win is for our king!”

Other

Profile Quote “Don’t even think that you can come close to the great Lord Malleus Draconia, lowly human!”

January 2020 Trailer “Are you a new student too? Take utmost care not to be rude to the Young Master.”

Countdown Poster “Meager humans ought to bow down before the Young Master.”

Login Bonus “Hmph! You’re pretty capable for a human. But I don’t go a single day without training myself.”

Player Birthday Wish “What are you doing here? On your birthday, you’re supposed to eat your favorite food, sing, and celebrate. You didn’t even know that…? Very well, then. I’ll teach you how to spend your birthday the right way!”

Magic History

Good ★

“Come at me anytime!”

“I’m... not tired!”

“Humans are so shallow.”

“I learned a lot from this.”

“The Young Master is even more incredible.”

“Cat! Shut up!”

“Serve the king.”

“The Young Master will make history.”

“Silver’s asleep?”

Great ★★

“I want to get closer to the Young Master.”

“Fascinating...”

“Piece of cake!”

Perfect ★★★

“Easy.”

“I have no business with weaklings.”

“Don’t make light of me, human.”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“My answer is this!”

“How old is the Headmaster...?”

“I won’t let you disturb me!”

Flying

Good ★

“It’s a beautiful morning.”

“I’m not letting Silver win.”

“I’m not scared of getting hurt.”

“I can’t turn smoothly.”

“Trust me on my speed!”

“My stomach growled.”

“I respect our coach’s stamina.”

“Take control of your problems...”

“I’m going to master this.”

Great ★★

“Oh...! Young Master!”

“I feel like jumping for joy!”

“I’m never off my guard.”

Perfect ★★★

“No one can catch up to me!”

“All right!”

“You want to challenge me?”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“Headmaster, what do you need?”

“Don’t stand where I’m about to go!”

“Everyone’s so slow!”

Alchemy

Good ★

“You’ve looked miserable all morning.”

“I’m keeping an eye on Master Lilia.”

“I’m very adept.”

“Let’s do this!”

“Immortality, huh...?”

“Did I get ahead of Silver?”

“That’s a gross color...”

“I’m hungry...”

“I’m not a dog!”

“Did you read the footnotes?”

“I see.”

“Humans are so greedy.”

“Gold isn’t going to satisfy me.”

“This jewel would suit the Young Master.”

“Be quiet and take your lesson!”

Great ★★

“There’s nothing I can’t eat.”

“Please praise me!”

“You think I could fail at this level?”

“Hmph. Piece of cake.”

“Gape at the power of the Valley of Thorns!”

Perfect ★★★

“Young Master, please accept this.”

“No trouble at all.”

“This is probably how the Young Master would do it.”

“What do you think? Perfect, huh?”

“You still can’t do it?”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“Stay cool... and composed.”

“No one could outshine the Young Master.”

“Hm? He’s watching me.”

“I’ll get grades that won’t tarnish our dorm’s name!”

“A perfect brew.”

[antihero-writings]

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch9)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Hey! So sorry for the delay, once again!! 

I've learned I really can't make any promises based on how fast I'll get these out XD But I have actually already started on the next chapter--in fact it's one I've been excited about for a long time, so I started on it a while ago--so that's a good sign at least, haha.

I'm very VERY excited to share this one with you!! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do!! 

I hope you guys like it!! As always, it's your comments, and interest, that keep me writing!! <3

@toms-wife Okay if I tag you??

If anyone else wants to be tagged on future chapters don’t hesitate to let me know!!

Chapter 9: On the Topic of Souls, and Other Such Oddities 

Snape marched towards the Headmaster’s office, his cloak swishing about his heels. It was the next morning after everything had happed, and he couldn’t say the little sleep he got left him feeling refreshed. Numerous meetings, and even more numerous questions have a way of making one altogether restless.

And, in the end…an innocent girl was dead. It isn’t easy to sleep after such news, even barring the politics of it all.

When he entered he got the feeling that Dumbledore had just been speaking with the portraits, as words trailed off, and Dumbledore, standing in the middle of the room, turned to him like he had been about to make a very good point. The portraits too looked down at him in—if he wasn’t mistaken—an annoyed way.

“Ah, Severus. Welcome. We were merely discussing if lemon drops or chocolate frogs are better. Theodore moved that chocolate frogs are more pleasingly sweet, but I think the best sweets have a bit of tang to them. Would you like to weigh in?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. The glare the portrait gave showed there was more than a small chance the matter they were discussing was something weightier than that.

When Snape didn’t comment, Dumbledore moved on;

“Please, take a seat.” He gestured to the chair in front of the desk. Snape reluctantly swept around and sat in it.

Dumbledore walked over to a side table with a strange contraption on it, which quickly revealed itself to be a sort of odd teapot, as he proceeded to pour the steaming liquid within it into a teacup. He retained his calm, pleasant demeanor, but Snape could tell the previous day weighed on him too: there was a slight shake to his motions, and his eyes held a heaviness that his smile couldn’t mask.

“Sir…would it not be better to do this another time?”

Dumbledore gave a knowing smile. “You’re not suggesting that I am getting old, are you?”

“No, merely that such news takes a toll on all of us.”

“Many things take a toll, Severus.” He gestured to the tea to ask if he wanted a cup, Snape gave a small nod. “It is if we decide to let that toll keep us from crossing the bridge that matters.”

The headmaster brought the two cups over and he took his place on the opposite side of the desk.

Snape paused before speaking. “I assume you have brought me here to discuss the sentence of the boy with the unspeakable name.” He took a sip of tea.

“You know what they say about assuming, Severus.” He lowered his glasses. “But in this case you are correct. And it’s not so unspeakable, in fact, I encourage you to call him by it.”

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Before I endeavor to divulge my carefully-laid plans,” Dumbledore spoke, putting a handful of sugar into his tea. “I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter: what do you think we ought to do with the young Tom Riddle?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“It’s the only kind of speaking I endorse.”

“I think we should dispose of him as soon as possible. He’s too dangerous, too clever. It’s inevitable that he’ll get his memory back even if we attempt to do everything in our power to shield him from it—perhaps before we so much as try.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” One of the portraits burst out and a few others nodded in agreement.

“Keeping him alive is like keeping a ticking time bomb as a pet,” Snape continued, “thinking a little love is enough to keep it from exploding. He’s nothing more than a liability.”

Snape’s dark eyes flicked to Dumbledore, who had been listening pleasantly, with his hands folded on the desk.

“But…”—Snape drew the kind of long breath one takes when they know they’ve lost the fight before it starts, and exhaled—“something tells me you disagree.”

Dumbledore smiled. “It seems you know me too well.”

“Sir…need I remind you of your meeting with him as a child? You once told me you wished you’d been more careful, more cautious, more discerning when dealing with him in the past.”

“Thank you, but my memory has not proven faulty just yet.”

“If that’s true then I also don’t need to remind you of the things I’ve seen him do first hand. Actions that do not make me partial to the idea of keeping him alive.”

“Quite the contrary, it is for that exact reason that I am trusting with this situation.” He paused, looking at him over his half moon spectacles and saying meaningfully. “You and no one else.”

“‘Trusting me with this situation’?” He drummed his fingers on the armrest.

“Is that not what you would call telling you all this?”

Snape said nothing, taking another sip of tea. That was true too, he was sure, though this was one of those moments in which he could tell Dumbledore meant something more than just that.

Dumbledore stood, walking over to the window as if he had all the time in the world, and he wanted to enjoy some sunlight.

“That boy is not Voldemort,” he murmured, taking a sip of tea.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Respectfully, Sir, I beg to disagree.”

“That boy is merely a young Tom Riddle: a teenager who looks like who Voldemort once was when he was young, and who has some of the personality of Tom riddle, and who, if given the right parameters, could become Voldemort. But he is not Voldemort now.”

“All he needs to become the Dark Lord again is to get his memory back, something which I do not think will prove altogether difficult.”

“Perhaps. But there is something else. After giving it careful consideration I find that my theory is sound.”

“What theory would this be?”

He paused, gathering his words. “It is my understanding that a door, once opened, can be walked through in either direction.”

Snape remained silent, waiting for him to tie the statement to their situation.

“What if I told you that our dear Ginny Weasley may not be dead?”

“I would say that is something we’d all like to hear, but that it would be wiser not to put your faith into fairy tales.”

“As I expected.” He turned, smiling. “However,” he began taking careful steps towards Snape, looking at his feet, “it is my personal inclination that the method by which he returned to the land of the living had a fatal flaw.”

“Which is?”

He looked up at him and stopped, saying meaningfully, “It required a young girl’s life.

“You see,” Dumbledore continued, “he will have assumed, of course, that her soul was destroyed in the process of bringing him back to life—her life merely energy to use up. But what if, as it were, he assumed wrongly? In my experience, human souls are far more resilient than that. What if, much like she poured herself into the diary, her soul was simply”—He took an extra teacup off the table—“poured into a new vessel:”—he poured the tea from his cup into the empty one—“The form of Tom Riddle himself.”

Pondering this for a moment, Snape looked away. As he did, Dumbledore returned to his seat once more.

Snape wanted to dismiss the theory right away, and intended to. However, the more Dumbledore explained it, and the more he thought about it…it wasn’t baseless. However—

“You are assuming a rather large amount with little to go on. We can’t base our decisions on a theory, especially one so far-fetched as the idea that the simple method of revival was enough for the soul of a young girl to persist.”

Far-fetched, perhaps…but then he thought of what he saw when he read the boy’s mind yesterday. The wall in his head. How there seemed to be something trapped behind it. Something alive.

“No, but we can let theories inform our decisions. If there is that chance, do you not think it worth exploring?”

“Are you proposing we let the young Dark Lord live on the very small chance we can salvage her soul from the brink? Or else that her presence within his soul will cause him to …what? Grow a heart? Forgive me but that sounds like a hopeless endeavor. Lamentable as the situation may be, we can’t sacrifice all of wizardkind for the soul of one little girl.”

Dumbledore sighed, and there was a heaviness to it. “No. I am afraid that it is unlikely the poor Ginny would be able to return to her original state. I am unsure if her soul is even fully intact. Or, further still, she may not be entirely aware of her current predicament herself either. When speaking of souls, it’s difficult to discern where consciousness resides. It would be unwise, however, to dismiss any of these options entirely either. Rather I am proposing that the presence of her soul is a variable with unprecedented possible outcomes.”

“This is the Dark Lord we’re talking about. I don’t think one little girl’s presence—be it within his soul itself—is going to make much difference.”

Dumbledore smiled. “You of all people should know it is unwise underestimate the influence of one little girl.”

Snape’s eyes widened, unable to keep himself from reacting to that. He turned his head away.

“The Dark Lord is incapable of love, of human emotion,” Snape muttered softly.

“Perhaps. However, personally I like to refrain from making such bold statements about even the cruelest of men. But, even so, it is for precise reasons such as those why I believe the simple presence of someone who is capable of love, of human emotion, within his soul, could make all the difference. As long as there is more holy water than plain, the whole vat becomes holy.”

Snape sighed, looking away. “It is a gargantuan risk for something that is nothing more than an educated hypothesis. What if you’re wrong?”

“Then I will face the consequences.”

“Then we all will face the consequences. Those consequences could easily be the destruction of all of either wizard or muggle-kind—or both. What would you do then?”

Dumbledore sighed. “You seem to be rather caught up in that.”

“I’m more surprised to find that you’re not. Unless there is some way to guarantee he won’t repeat his past sins, then I cannot entertain the thought of keeping him alive.”

“I think we may be able to work something out.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t some misguided journey to erase your past sins, is it?”

“No.” Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. “It’s a misguided journey to try to erase his.”

“Think for a moment! If you are wrong, is there any reason you have to keep the Dark Lord alive, if not for the thought that perhaps Ginny Weasley yet lives within his soul? Any at all?”

“Oh yes, several in fact.”

Another eyebrow raise.

Dumbledore leaned forward on his desk. “I think you are underestimating the gravity of the opportunity we have been given. An opportunity which I do not believe will present itself again. We have been handed a young Tom Riddle—without memory, no less. Tom Riddle, who has yet to commit the crimes of his previous self.”

“Tom Riddle, who already exhibited little to no regard for others’ well-being! He felt no compassion upon seeing a corpse!” Anger reached his voice, he was very close to slamming his fist on the table.

“Yet he has hurt no one.”

“He’s only been around for a day.”

“A day which Voldemort could have easily spent hurting and killing as many people as he wished.”

Snape looked away. “One amnesic day does not determine the capacity of a life.”

“No, you are correct about that. But…try to imagine for a moment. Do you understand what kind of asset it would be if we were able to get a young Tom Riddle to come over to our side? If we could save him from becoming who he once was…it could save us all.”

“You’ve made this mistake before.”

“I’ve made this decision before. My mistake was in the fact that I did not realize just how much evil such a young boy was capable of. I know now what that boy could become—and already has once—and that it will take much more than a watchful eye to save him from the darkness lurking in his own heart.”

“Do you realize just how easy it would be for him to fall back into that darkness?”

“Which is why I want to keep him alive. To try to prevent him from making the mistakes of his past self. The key difference here, is that there is a chance he has light in him now, in the form of Ginny. If that’s true, we need only water that seed.”

“You don’t know that there’s light in him!” Snape stood abruptly sweeping around resting his hands the back of his chair.” At best that’s an informed hunch! Are you really willing to base such an important decision on that?! The only way to guarantee he won’t make the mistakes of his past self is to prevent him from making any decisions at all!

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Snape blinked. “Is that all this is to you? A bit of fun?” He spat.

“Of course not.” His smile dropped at last, along with his eyes to the desk. “A young girl’s life has been lost. I’d prefer not to lose another.”

“Even if that other life is the life of the Dark Lord?”

“It is not the life of the Dark Lord.” He traced his finger along the rim of his teacup. “It is the life of the young Tom Riddle, who is entirely unaware of the crimes of his previous self—or anything much at all. He has shown no immediate inclinations to harm others, even if he is a bit insensitive. Forgive me, but I do not think it right to simply dispose of him.

“There is another thought that gives me unease as well.” Dumbledore seemed unsure he wanted to say it aloud. He folded his hands and looked at down. “If it turns out that my theory is correct, and Ginny isn’t dead after all…if we decide to dispose of him now, we, and not he, will be the ones who killed her.” The words were altogether too soft.

Snape ran his hand through his hair. “So what do you propose we do with him? Keeping the young Dark Lord alive, and a secret, will be much more difficult than simply killing him.”

“Oh I’m not denying that. If all goes according to plan, there are a number of portraits and other such lingering spirits we will have to inform of the situation.” He eyed the portraits, which folded their arms, harrumphed and looked away.

“And you’re actually proposing that we teach him magic? To the point where, when he does remember who he is, he’ll have the means at his disposal to destroy us all?”

“If we don’t teach him magic, if and when he regains his memory, do you not think he would seek out those means on his own anyways? At least this way we’re teaching him in a controlled environment, where we know where he is, and how much he knows at any given time—not to mention we can decide how much caution to exercise in the smaller details of the situation.”

“Even so…we can’t place a sixteen-year old who knows nothing of magic in first year classes.”

“Nor am I proposing that we do so. I intend to have someone teach—or remind, rather; I think he will be quick to pick it back up—of the basics over the summer. It may not be an easy task to get permission from the ministry to allow a boy under seventeen to do magic over the summer, but I think I may be able to come up with something. Either that, or we may be able to hope they assume the one doing the magic is the wizard who already lives in the house.”

“You’ve told me he has a penchant for flattery that caused many teachers to let their guard down around him. I don’t think I have to tell you why I don’t think it wise to have just any wizard teach the young Dark Lord.”

“I fear you underestimate me, Severus. You really think I would choose just any wizard teach to him? In fact—if you’ll permit my saying—he’ll have a teacher who is rather stern, and won’t find himself so easily swayed by flattery.”

“And who is the lucky contestant?”

Dumbledore gave him a look strangely similar to the smirk of a mischievous schoolboy, running his fingers along his wand.

“I did tell you I was trusting you with the situation, did I not?”

Snape’s eyes widened. He took a step back as if he’d been physically hit.

“No.”

“You asked me if I was proposing that we teach him magic,” Dumbledore elaborated, “and, for the summer at least…Actually I’m proposing that you teach him magic.”

Snape rarely found himself struck dumb but in that moment he was at a loss for both words and actions. For a moment he wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t been placed under a powerful confundus charm.

“During the school year, of course, he’ll learn here.” Dumbledore continued. “That is, if aforementioned summer goes smoothly.”

Snape blinked, shook his head, as if trying to remove a wrackspurt. The only thing he could ask was:

“Why me?”

Dumbledore frowned. “I thought I’d made that rather obvious. Because—as you so well proved over the past few moments—no matter how kind, how flattering, how clever, he appears, you will always keep in mind who and what he is. And, if he shows any signs of becoming his past self—or future self, as it were—you will not hesitate to do what is necessary.”

“Is there a reason you can’t do this, Sir?”

“Oh, I’m an old sap, Severus. For all we know I might grow attached to the boy.”

“And you want me to…what?” He spat. “Invite him cordially to stay in my home,” He held out a hand and bowed, “feed him, coddle him, tell him what a good little boy he is,”—he clapped his hands—“all the while teaching him all sorts of dangerous spells?!”

“No. I will inform him of the situation. Then after that I am suggesting you take him to your house—you don’t have to be too terribly cheerful about it, merely as amicable as you are able—feed him, provide him a place to stay over the summer. I’m not suggesting you coddle him—though kindness is a virtue—rather give him both praise and criticism, and each in moderation. That you teach him the basics of magic, and the spells you think would be useful, but not terribly dangerous. I trust your judgment there wholeheartedly.”

Snape stared at a speck of dirt on the ground as if that could tether him to this moment, breath weighing heavy on his chest, his mind splintering into fractals of thoughts. How could Dumbledore possibly expect this of him?

“I feel like I’m forgetting something…” Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. “Oh!” He held up a finger. “Yes. Harry will be staying with you as well.”

Snape jerked his head to look at him, and this time couldn’t hold back:

“WHAT?!”

“I’ll admit, it’s a bit—the poor boy has been through a lot, he won’t be fond of the idea—but I think it’s important that he and the young Tom Riddle become…Well let’s put it this way, I don’t think Harry giving him hateful glares in the hallways at school will help the situation. Currently both he and you seem to have more than enough of those to spare.”

“Oh yes, and forcing us all to live together will certainly solve that problem!”

“While it’s true that living with someone can indeed increase one’s distaste…I do find that living with someone forces you to build a bond of some sort with them, and sympathize with them, in ways you would never have otherwise.”

“You’re asking the three people in this school who have the greatest distaste for each other to spend three months in a confined space!” He spat. “Not only do I think the boy would likely kill one of us before the summer is over, I’d be surprised if we don’t all end up killing each other halfway through June!”

“Or…perhaps the three of you will come to a new understanding about each other.” Dumbledore was as calm as ever. Snape wanted to wipe that smug look of his face.

“I don’t see than happening any time soon.”

“You might be surprised.”

Snape leaned against a pillar, running his hand over his face. He knew from the beginning that he wasn’t going to win this argument, but this was more than a loss, it felt like a slap in the face.

“Don’t you understand?” Dumbledore resumed his previous argument. “Tom Riddle never had a single friend—even at this age his ‘friends’ were all merely supporters and worshippers. If he and the boy destined to destroy him—who will most certainly neither blindly worship nor support him—were to become something even remotely close to friends it could make all the difference. And I think Harry is the only one who can truly change him.”

“The Dark Lord doesn’t make friends. Even without memory I don’t believe he’ll have any inclinations to form attachments—especially not to someone like Potter. He himself said he feels hatred at the sound of Potter’s name.”

“Need I remind you once more this is not the Dark Lord we’re speaking of? Memoryless, and with the presence of Ginny inside him—who already has an affinity for Harry—I think there is at least some chance his opinions on Harry, as well as concepts such as friendship itself may change. He did mention that he hates the sound of Harry’s name, as well as mine, yes. However, when I asked him if it made him sad that he had no friends, for a brief second he said yes.”

“He corrected himself immediately afterwards.”

“In all my years teaching the boy, I never saw a single moment’s hesitation, especially on a question like that.”

Snape let out a breath.

“Doesn’t Potter need to stay with his aunt and uncle?” Snape rubbed his temple, feeling defeated, voice breathy, “His mother’s protection—”

“Oh he will stay with his aunt and uncle at first, still. However, I was discussing it with the portraits, and considering the strange situation, I find the rules may be a little different, don’t you?”

“Oh yes, have him live with the Dark Lord! That will keep him very safe!” Snape sighed, slumping in his chair once again, holding his head in his hand.

“It is not one of my safest ideas, I’ll admit. But you’ll be there, of course. And you haven’t given me reason to doubt that you’re up to the task of protecting him, should the need arise.”

“You expect too much of me. There is only so much I can do.”

“It is true you can only be so many places at once. But if I did not think you were capable of accomplishing such a task, I would not ask in the first place.”

“This is lunacy,” he breathed into his hand.

“I hope I haven’t fallen prey to madness just yet. But I will not rule out the possibility.”

Dumbledore paused, standing back up and walking around the desk. “I understand if you need more time to mull it over. I often find after jarring news a walk and a good bottle of mead do wonders.”

“I only have one guest room, Sir,” Snape muttered.

“Harry can sleep on the couch.” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “He’s very small, I’m sure you’ll barely notice him.”

Snape glared at him through his fingers. “…I think I’ll notice him.”

“You haven’t answered my most pressing concern. What’s to say the boy won’t get up and kill us both in our sleep?”

“…That doesn’t sound much like Harry at all.”

“The other one.”

“We will need to discuss what protections we should put in place, certainly. But you and I are both very smart, very skilled wizards. It would be disappointing if, putting our heads together, we are unable to come up with something.”

There was a long moment of silence. Snape put his hand in his hair, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and had gone wrong before…or at least just how much annoyance such a living situation would provide, even if there was no real danger. No matter how much chaos may occur over the school years, his summers at least had always been quiet.

His next words were soft, but thick with emotion. “I don’t think it wise for him to live with me, Sir. I don’t think I could ever feel any kindness towards the man who killed her.”

“But,” Dumbledore’s voice was as gentle as a moth’s wing beat, no annoyance or exasperation in his tone at the fact that he had to keep repeating himself, “he is not the man that killed her. Not yet. And you have the unique chance of saving him from becoming that man.”

“Not a chance that could save her.”

“No, you’re right, that chance has long since passed. But you can save hundreds of other men and women just as kind as her.”

“No one is as kind as her.”

Dumbledore knelt down beside him, putting his hand on his arm, a certain twinkle in his eyes. “If you give it a chance…I think you may just find that Harry is.”

[thefandomlesbian]

WIP tag: thank you @scandinavian-punk for tagging me!!

Brace yourselves because I am about to word vomit on your screen—

(not including WIPs that are currently posted, since you can explore those at your leisure)

To Rule and Guide: The sequel to To Light and Guard, Lana and Mary Eunice go forward in their relationship, but they encounter hiccups along the way as old enemies rise, friends twist beyond recognition, and the church tries to call back the nun it released so recklessly.

Break Rank: John Laurens was shot down off of his horse and dragged away from the Battle of Combahee River, believed to be dead. A mutilated corpse was buried in his stead, but he awakens in a warm cabin to a middle-aged lesbian couple who nurse him back to health. Now disabled and with everyone believing he's dead, he has to try to make his way back up to New York, as there is only one person who will believe him.

Lead Me Astray: Spencer receives a diagnosis of malignant cancer behind his eyes, the first-line treatment being removal of both eyes. He quietly hands in his resignation to Strauss and earns a deal for medical retirement, and he intends to spend his remaining days setting things up to survive life alone as a blind man. However, when the team receives word of his decision to leave without telling any of them, Aaron hunts him down and demands answers. Convincing Spencer of his worth, both as a person and as a member of the BAU, is not easy, but it's necessary for the upcoming case they will face.

Like Minor Gods: Spencer lost a high-stakes bet with Derek. Now he's training for a triathlon. It's not exactly a fun time, seeing as his athleticism peaked when he was the basketball coach in high school, but with a little help from his unit chief, he may have a chance of crossing the finish line.

Shipwrecked Souls: After taking his leave from the BAU, Aaron struggles with Jack, who has developed increasingly concerning behavioral and psychological issues. Jack is riddled with anxiety and PTSD, and no matter what Aaron does to try to help, they wind up yelling at each other. Desperate for some help, he attends a seminar for parenting a troubled kid, where Spencer is surprisingly guest lecturing after earning his PhD in adolescent psychology. Aaron asks if Spencer will help tutor Jack—though Jack's failing grades are just the tip of the iceberg in regards to his current string of issues—and happily, Spencer agrees.

Singing While Rome Burns: After Foyet's escape from prison, Aaron has lost all of his coping skills. His family fell apart for his job, and he's apparently not even good at that anymore. He gets blackout drunk and wanders around lost in Rock Creek Park until he intends to call Rossi to come get him. Inadvertently, he calls Spencer instead. Spencer rescues him, and this act of mercy ignites a spark between them. But they walk a path ripe with trepidations, as Foyet is still on the move, Haley is busy settling the divorce, Strauss battles corporate challenges, and Spencer struggles to find where he fits in all of it with his new role in Aaron's life.

Spencer & Aaron: Dharma and Greg AU. Hotshot federal prosecutor Aaron Hotchner sees the most beautiful man he's ever met on the subway on his way to the office. He tries to go after him, but the doors slide closed, and he's left with a sense of longing—until he arrives at work to find the same man sitting on his desk. "You're Aaron Hotchner," he says. "You appeared in the Washington Post five months ago for putting away the Freeway Butcher. Your building security is weak. I was able to guess the passcode in two tries. I'm Spencer. I remember everything I read." On an impromptu first date, they recklessly decide to get married. On the days after, they bring together two incredibly different families and groups of friends, slowly teaching everyone that any relationship can work if there's enough love and compassion involved.

The Good Place: The Good Place AU. Corporate lawyer Aaron Hotchner was an asshole in life. In death, he awakens to find he's been placed in the Good Place by mistake. Partnered with his "soulmate," Spencer; a former nun, Emily, and her soulmate, Penelope; a spiritual vessel of knowledge, JJ; and two so-called angel-men, Dave and Derek, they find themselves dragged into a war which could challenge the very foundation the afterlife is built upon.

The Landscape After Cruelty: Spencer drives Aaron home from Quantico the day of Haley's death. Over the following days, he orchestrates everything from behind the scenes. He works with Jessica to care for Jack; he cooks meals for Aaron; he calls funeral homes to arrange services; he makes Aaron's appointments and then drags him to them by force. He makes himself indispensable. It only leaves Aaron wondering—why?

Insects in Amber: inspired by @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety Whumptober prompt, infection. The team has split to handle two different cases. Spencer finds a breakthrough in the case he works with Aaron, but Garcia is busy with the rest of the team, so they go with no coordinates and no warning. When Aaron gets into combat with the unsub and they both fall down the stairs, the chamber doors seal behind them, trapping them inside. The unsub is dead, his neck broken in the fall, and Aaron's femur is protruding from his body where he landed. He's in an agonizing amount of pain, and Spencer knows the statistics for infection of an open fracture are bleak at best. No one knows where they are. They only have the hope that the team will find them soon—or else there will only be one of them to rescue.

Call Me Home: Cordelia Goode has finally escaped the oppressive home of her mother and has landed a job at the local animal rescue, Starfish, where she becomes fast friends with the quirky woman who works dog side, Misty. As shelter drama picks up, they learn together how difficult saving lives can really be.

Minor Bird: Acclaimed pianist, Misty Day, has decided to step away from her career and take an early retirement. Amateur Cordelia Goode wants to find out why. When her teacher makes arrangements for her to meet Misty in person, she learns that soon, Misty will not be able to perform any longer. In a crunch for time and desperate to learn more, Cordelia begs for Misty to teach her. In the process, they grow closer together than either of them ever dreamed.

The Sister Act: Lana Winters witnessed a horrible crime and has been placed in witness protection in an abbey for her own safety. She repeatedly butts heads with the Mother Superior, Jude, as she struggles to survive the trauma of what she witnessed. With the help of Sister Mary Eunice, she begins to appreciate the quiet spirituality of the place. But criminals are still pursuing her, eager to silence her before she can testify.

I've Got Your Demons (They're Crying Out for Love): Lana Winters aids Briarcliff in the exorcism of Sister Mary Eunice. Both are pregnant from crimes committed against them and against God. Lana places her son up for adoption; Mary Eunice's daughter is stolen from her, dumped on hospital steps with no note by Monsignor Howard who will not be held accountable for his actions. When Mary Eunice is well enough, she leaves Briarcliff with Lana, desperate to reconnect with her daughter, but it's years before they catch up to young Billie Dean Howard, and they find that demons still continue to touch them at every turn.

Autumn Hands: Audrey saved Shelby's life, but she couldn't save her mutilated vocal cords, permanently damaged by her attempt on her own life. All sorts of trials await them—criminal, medical, social—as they try to look past their fraught history and come together as the sole survivors of Roanoke.

On the Pyre, Before the Hearth: Lana Winters gets lost in the Louisiana swamp after she tries to find herself in the wilderness. There, she encounters a lonely hermit woman who has spent the past decade living in solitude and subsisting off the land. A flood forces her and Misty into one another's company for several days, but when it's time for Lana to leave, she finds she doesn't want to life with Misty ever again. Misty has her own secrets and reasons for hiding, unbeknownst to Lana, who writes and publishes about her experience in the hope of drawing Misty out of the woods. She has no idea the ramifications of her actions.

That... Should be everything 😳😬😐 I'm tagging @reidology @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety @its-a-goode-day @honeyvenable and whoever else feels motivated to do it!

[baconpal]

talkin bout fuckig manga

hey it’s me, haven’t had internet for over a week and i’ve been sick and uni and blah blah blah time for a rant about manga

this time its about  "Soredemo Machi wa Mawatteiru", tl;dr, good manga read it idk

lots of bullshit below the cut

Before anything I say gets too confusing or I go off on an insane tangent, just know my recommendation is that you read "Soredemo Machi wa Mawatteiru". It's not very easy to find online since it has an official English release (which my recommendation extends far enough to suggest I might pick up in the future, just to have it, but I am very stingy), but there's an alright torrent of all the volumes on your local anime torrenting website, and is at the very least worth the trouble of reading as such. There is also an anime that gets better as it goes, but the manga is my primary recommendation. Beyond this point I'm not gonna give much regard to what I write, so get ready for anything, read the manga and see if you agree with me, or don't and see if I care:

BOUT THE ANIME: The SoreMachi anime is one of those rare comedy anime you find where the animation and overall production is just really extra the entire time. Hopefully you know what I mean because I won't really be able to explain it any other way, it's simply one of those shows where the jokes are decent and it's a fun time for the most part. Unfortunately, the anime makes a couple of critical missteps that kept me from getting far into it when I first tried watching it about a year ago, and in retrospect seem even less reasonable.

Starting with the good, as an adaptation it does a good job with most chapters it covers, it properly sources where each chapter comes from incase you intend to read the manga and skip around to catch up, and the anime adapts some sections to have additional jokes that fit very naturally in to the story. It also covers up some of those problems only manga can have like having a concert segment without any actual music involved, until they invent mp3-paper it's just something we'll have to live with. Translation work was pretty good (I watched the [WhyNot] release for those who care), which is extra important for something as difficult to translate as jokes from another language. The set of episodes they chose to end on was very good, and was expanded to be a lot more impactful in the anime. If it wasn't for the last episode being as strong as it was I may have given up on finding the manga when I saw it wasn't super easy to read online.

As for what the anime fails in, some episodes feature some really blatant over-acting that doesn't really help make characters believable, and there's this obnoxious gag that continues the whole where through where most scenes have a few seconds long line from what is essentially a forced mascot character, which usually mean nothing and only serve to harm the pacing of many episodes (there isn't even any sort of equivalent bit in the manga so I really don't know why they did it, most of the anime original jokes are pretty good so I just really don't get it). The biggest issue the anime faces is that the source material is about 140 chapters, while the anime is only able to cover 24 chapters. This comes with a LOT of problems, the first being what I'd call the "required reading". SoreMachi is not a 1-note simple comedy where you can skip to any chapter and be completely okay; There are many small but meaningful subplots lying beneath, and characters have a fair bit of development throughout. What this means for the anime is that the first 3-4 episodes are just the first few chapters of the manga, which are a bit rough and not as good as the majority of the work, which is true of a lot of comics (god fuck I promise there will be more than a first chapter of my comic I promise it'll get better fuck). In terms of the anime by itself, I'd say episode 1 is decent, 2 is middling, and by 3/4 their still taking a while to introduce members of the cast, and I didn't immediately want to finish it. I put the show down for a long time until my internet started dying and I wanted to watch something fun. Slapping it back on at episode 5 I immediately had a great time and watched the rest of the show pretty soon after. While I understand the reasoning behind doing this, the anime does not pay off this structure, as beyond the first few episodes, the chapters start being presented out of release order and out of chronological order, kind of destroying any consistent throughline. This decision in and of itself isn't the worst, since the comic isn't always chronological, and the volume ordering is a bit different from the release ordering, but the inconsistency makes the first few episodes feel lessened without reason. The other large failure that comes with only animating about 1/7th of the entire work is that many themes and concepts that are core to the manga are not represented in the anime well at all. One of the biggest is the rare but unnerving supernatural chapters, of which only one is animated, and not a particularly good one. In order to talk about these themes I'll have to transition into talking about the manga itself, since they aren't part of the anime.

DA MANGA: So one last recommendation that you read the manga, the whole damn thing. Cus we're gettin into themes and character moments that take a long time to pay off, and obviously is all part of my interpretations, so if that stuff means anything to you don't let me ruin it for ya.

The title of the manga is, in essence, the entire manga's "punchline" in that every chapter could meaningfully end with simply the text "And yet the town still turns..." (My translation of the title, fuck "And yet, the town revolves" or "But the town moves"); by this I mean most chapters end in an anti-climax where a mystery is left unsolved, or a mystery is solved and undercut by the realization that life simply keeps on going without much change. This is used to essentially force your eyes open to all possibilities when reading, as the main character spends her time acting like a detective, and these mysteries end up as either misunderstandings, secrets, riddles, and sometimes something out of the ordinary happens that makes you unable to pin anything down firmly. Similarly, these endings aren't always read-and-forget scenarios. Several chapters come back in the form of a continued joke, a continued mystery, or contribute to some greater purpose later. Readers are properly rewarded for keeping everything they can in mind, while also tormenting such people with loose ends.

I enjoy Hotori as a protagonist due to her character being defined not in flaws and strengths, but in mindedness. Hotori seems like a simple "haha she's dumb" character to start, but consistently throughout she proves that her strengths are in memory, observation, and deduction, while lacking in some more common sense and abilities. Her brain works in strange ways that some people may or may not understand, such as her need to think through even the most trivial fictional scenarios, which I relate to deeply.

The art and paneling throughout are wonderful. Ishiguro Masakazu is one of those artists who draws very simple characters, but knows how to use details and depth to breath so much life into the artwork. He also clearly uses the occasional supernatural happenings as an excuse to draw what he loved, as all sorts of artistic depictions of the supernatural come out that simply look satisfying. These parts obviously meant a lot to him since he's been working on a primarily mystery-action manga that has a lot more of that stuff in it. (Also, as hindsight is 20/20, if you've read any of his new work you'll notice that the main character of it is eerily similar to a character who shows up very late in SoreMachi that the author obviously fell in love with, cus she just keeps coming back and even ends up with a really unsettling end to her character arc despite only being introduced as a component in a harmless mystery. Feel free to call me out for the same shit 30 years from now when I'll probably do the same shit)

I'd like to get into some of the major themes of this work, as a lot of them hit very close to my mind (which I guess is true of any theme you recognize for yourself, you wouldn't really "get it" if it didn't mean something to you...).

The simplest theme, again, comes from the title. The main character, Hotori, expresses a desire that the town she lives in continues going on, unchanged forever. This is obviously a fear of change, which ya know, same, but also an exploration of what it means to fear change. Hotori actively tries to keep businesses from closing down, keep friends from leaving, and keep relationships from changing, while simultaneously making all sorts of new relationships and solving mysteries. Hotori even comes to realize that simply learning the truth about something changes the world through your own perspective, and that such changes can't be undone. In spite of this, Hotori mostly gets her wish, any time she fears that a large change will impact the town, its resolved about the same as any other issue. Whether its a message that even time can't keep you from your loved ones and that change isn't worth fearing, or a concession that large changes to the setting would be a bad idea in terms of humor, I can't really decide. This theme reaches it's conclusion in what is one in a series of "ending" kinda chapters at the end of the series. Hotori is faced with a supernatural ethical situation, save her town from destruction at the cost of her existence, or live through the disaster, knowing her town and the people in it will forever be changed. While the actual result is that nobody disappears and nothing is lost, and the event may have simply been a strange dream, Hotori confidently decides that sparing the people in her town from a life altering event is worth giving up her memories with them. A kind of bold spit-in-the-face to the idea that change is okay, where we find that Hotori didn't fear change for herself, but rather for the people around her.

There's another major idea in this manga, which takes a very long time to pay off, and completes its arc at the very very very actual end of the series, the idea of "leading someone to be something". A character that rides that line between main and side character, Shizuka, is a writer of detective novels, who feels the best person to judge her works would be a version of herself without the bias of being the author. She tries to achieve this by leading Hotori to be interested in detective works (including her own) and generally be just like her, starting from a young age. The end result is a young girl dead set on being a detective herself (or at least another novelist), while Shizuka keeps her identity as an author secret. She then uses Hotori as a scapegoat for herself, attempting to see how she would solve various mysteries and use that as inspiration, and this is depicted as though Shizuka were some sort of villain, which she may feel like she is. The end result of it all, though, is that Hotori was likely already a detective-minded person, and that even if Shizuka pushed her down that path, it was Hotori's decision to continue down it, and the very end of the manga is a scene revealing that Hotori figured out Shizuka's secret at some point, and even still respected Shizuka and aspired to reach her, and the two accept each other for who they are. I enjoy this ending a lot, since as an artist I've worried that some of my love or aspirations for and from other artists came with an ulterior motive of wanting a better community for art to exist in, but people are people and will make their own decisions, and some day everyone may be able to become equals in a truly meaningful sense, where everyone is inspired by and guiding each other together.

So that probably didn't mean shit to nobody and I didn't even really talk about anything in the comic like most of the main characters or any of the shit goin on but ya know fuck you go read it, and thanks for reading this.

[margarethelstone]

Our Sleeves Were Wet With Tears | Chapter 9

Chapter 9 / Read on AO3!

So it was true.

He hadn't misheard her.

Just...

"What on earth?" he asked no one in particular, his eyes raised to the sky and his hand pressed against his forehead. "How could she do that? Why would she? And now, when it's her last chance to participate in the school tournaments, when she was so determined to compete with the Queen for the title... Just what is that idiot thinking?"

He inhaled deeply, trying to think of anything that might have been the cause of Chihaya's decision. Again, if he'd been his normal self, he would have solved that riddle in an instant – now, however, his mind was blank, all rational thought shoved away by the astonishment that had fallen upon him just now.

Life was just becoming too easy, wasn't it?

"Are you sure she meant it?" he turned back to Kana again after a short while. "You said it was because of her studying, but I really can't imagine Chihaya changing her priorities like that. Not for good, anyway."

"I know it seems absurd but she was serious about it. In fact, I don't think I have ever seen her so determined in my life, as difficult as it is to imagine," the girl in front of him answered dejectedly. "She kept reassuring us that she still loved karuta and that she would always come back to playing it. She made us promise that we would still work hard during her absence and then in turn she swore that she would always be there for us, whenever we might need help or advice, or even just someone to encourage us when things will seem too hard. But even with all that, she wouldn't let us convince her that her being our Captain – or even just a regular member of the club – had always been of more meaning than any advice she might give us. She just wouldn't budge.

"And we all knew that she had every right to do so. We know what her academic skills are and that she needs to put more effort than some to just score decently. It's only natural that she might want to shift her focus a little so close to the exams, even if it's not something you would normally expect of her. Only..."

"Only what?" Taichi asked eagerly, even though he felt like he already knew what Kanade was going to say.

"Only that no matter how much she talked about it and how good her arguments were, it still seemed like all of this was an excuse rather than a reason for her to leave."

For once, his intuition was on point.

Because of course it was nothing but an excuse. Even if he still wasn't ready to guess – to admit that he had guessed from the start – the real reason for Chihaya's decision, it was obvious that the justification she had used to explain it was a fake one. Even if he hadn't known all that he did, even if he hadn't known her for as long and as well as he had, there was one thing that he was he was utterly, absolutely sure of:

Ayase Chihaya would never have left the karuta club if her bad grades had been the sole reason for it.

No way in hell that she would.

And now, he actually did know quite a lot.

On one hand, he felt arrogant believing that it really might have been because of him that she had made up her mind to leave. For so long he'd lived his life convinced that karuta was the one thing Chihaya cherished the most, to the degree where she had prioritised it not only over her duties, but her social life and even relationships, as well. The talk they'd had a little more than a week ago had surely corrected some of his views, however, it still was a week of enlightenment against a lifetime of belief... A lifetime of thinking that she simply couldn't care about him enough to make a sacrifice this grand, especially when it was of no use anyway.

On the other, all the clues he'd got were just too unambiguous to think of it as just a mere coincidence.

Besides, the useless part of it was exactly what made it probable in Chihaya's case.

"Did she say anything else?" he asked wearily at last, channelling all of his determination into this one simple question, much in the same way Kana had while answering his previous one. "When you tried to persuade her to stay, did she respond with anything other than what you just told me about?"

Again, Kanade denied with a firm shake of her head. "No. She just continued to assure us that this was a decision she'd made and that it wasn't a hasty one. She said she knew it was sudden and that for that it might seem rash, but that she really had thought it through... Though when exactly she might have found the time to do that was a mystery. Still, she repeated that, over and over again, until we had no choice but to accept it. She kept apologising, too, for not letting us know in advance."

"Didn't she though?" Taichi wondered out loud. "Were there really no signs that she might be thinking about leaving?" he added somewhat desperately.

"Nothing she would say. She came to the meetings as always until one day, she didn't. Or rather, she did come, only to say that she was resigning."

It was the first time during this conversation when Taichi heard a hint of irritation ringing in Kana's voice in addition to the sadness present in it almost from the start. Or perhaps it wasn't irritation but disappointment that he discerned now? A quiet reproach Chihaya had earned not by handling things poorly, but by refusing to share her troubles with those meant to be her friends?

An edginess that could only have grown so strong because of the care and devotion behind it.

Was this how his former club members felt about him, too, and only chose to hold back so that they wouldn't hurt him further?

Well, even if, it wasn't the time to be worrying about it.

Right now, he needed answers.

As many as he could get.

"This isn't right," he said, his words muffled by his hand that was once again pressed against his face. "And it doesn't make sense. There must have been something... Something that would suggest she was preparing to leave. Something in her behaviour or her tone, or... I don't know. But if she really had been thinking about it earlier, like she said she had, then surely, it must've affected her somehow."

His brow furrowed under his fingers, the tips of which he now dug into his skin unwittingly. The cogs in his brain were turning, too, as he tried to imagine Chihaya's conduct during those few meetings that she had attended. There couldn't have been many; there simply hadn't been enough time for it between his own resignation and hers.

And he simply couldn't create a vision in which Chihaya would not act suspiciously.

She had always worn her heart on her sleeve, whether it was excitement or worry or fear that she felt. To think that she would come to practice while considering her retirement and behave casually...

That just didn't match her character at all.

"You're an observant person, Oe-san," he muttered after another moment. He knew she was still watching him and he also supposed that she could easily guess what exactly was going through his mind right now, and therefore, he didn't even try to hide his confusion this time. "If Chihaya behaved any differently than before, as I'm sure she did, you certainly didn't miss it. You've picked up on lesser hints," he added, a weary smiled curling his lips again. "So please, don't hide it from me. Unless it's something she asked you not to tell directly-"

"She didn't say anything like that," Kana interrupted him. "But as I said, she didn't really say anything more than what we've already talked about. She wouldn't talk about it."

"Then please tell me what you saw."

Kanade didn't answer him immediately. She looked down again, instead, although this time Taichi noticed that it was neither abashment nor cautiousness that had prompted this little action of hers.

Rather, she appeared thoughtful, as if she'd been trying to recall her own memories from a little less than a month ago, and perhaps to decide which of her observations were actually worth speaking of. He didn't rush her. He didn't tell her to just share everything with him, either, allowing her to pick the parts she deemed valuable and dispose of those she found harmful or futile.

As much as he yearned for all the information he could get, he still had enough reason left in him to understand that he didn't need all of it.

If there was one person that knew what he should hear, it was Kanade.

"I saw her lose her drive," she uttered at last, her eyes still firmly at the ground under her feet. "I saw her come to practice and follow the usual routine with none of the enthusiasm she normally would have shown. I saw her play matches against the first years and nearly lose, because her mind was clearly on other things. They thought she was going easy on them and we let them believe that, but all of the older members knew that she would never do that purposely. And then I heard-"

She stopped short in the middle of the sentence. At this point, Taichi thought his heart would jump out of his chest from the suspense, now only made worse by the barely commenced phrase; but again, he managed to hold himself back, only silently praying that his companion would finish her thought eventually.

After all, she wouldn't have cut herself off like this for some meaningless news.

"I actually heard her say something, too," she chose to finish in the end, a decision for which Taichi was exceedingly grateful. "It wasn't anything she said to me – or to anyone else really – so I probably wasn't supposed to hear it in the first place. In fact, I don't think she even realised that she was saying it out loud, so it feels sort of unfair to focus on it, much less to relay it to you now... But I think you should know!" she exclaimed unexpectedly, raising her gaze to meet Taichi's, her eyes sparkling with resolve. "Maybe I'm wrong and shouldn't tell you after all. Or maybe it doesn't even mean anything and I'm just making a big deal of it unnecessarily. I certainly don't know what Chihaya-chan might have meant, but... but..."

"But maybe I will," Taichi concluded the statement for her. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

Kana nodded firmly.

"Alright. Let's hear it then."

And so she told him. No longer sparing the details, she recalled the one time in the clubroom after the practice was done and the team was getting ready to leave. When they all cleaned and put away the cards and when the first-years showered them with questions, the excitement shining in their eyes as they jumped from one to another, unable to decide whom of their seniors they should ask first and what their inquiry should be about.

She told him how Chihaya had been the only member that had been asked none, simply because she was still kneeling on the mat.

How she had stayed that way for a long while after her match had come to an end, leaning over her cards as if she'd been revising her game, motionless and focused and successfully fooling everyone that this was exactly what she'd been doing. How they let her be, waving a hand at her dismissively at first, deciding to shift their attention to the inquisitive youngsters instead.

And then she told him about the one thing that interested him most. One to which Kana evidently was the only one privy.

"She said that all the cards were black to her," she said straightforwardly. "No, not said. More like, she mumbled it under her breath, so quietly that I wasn't even sure at first that I'd heard her correctly. But she repeated it once, and then once more. They are black to me too, now. And then I knew I hadn't misheard."

It was Taichi who kept silent now, although unlike Kana, he did not look away while doing so. Quite the opposite: his eyes had not left his friend's face since the moment she'd started her tale, and he surely wasn't going to shift his gaze now. Although she didn't know it, she was an anchor to him now. With her kind, supportive expression, with all the care he knew she had for him, he used her as a pillar now, too, while his mind reeled with images of what Kanade had just described. The implications her story had brought.

The hard truth he didn't think possible and yet one that he had no choice but to accept.

It was all so ridiculous.

Really. It was absurd and wrong, and surreal. It fit perfectly with the rest of the puzzle, the one missing piece that confirmed and added meaning to all the rest, while at the same time it screamed crazy and unbelievable and nuts. It was the knowledge she'd shared with him that appeared absolutely ludicrous, and yet he still couldn't think of it as anything but natural. It was insane.

And he didn't feel particularly lucid, either.

He felt like squatting on the ground, or maybe downright falling onto his knees, with his hands buried in his hair as he pondered over the foolishness of it. He didn't know whether he wanted to groan or sigh, or maybe rock with laughter, that due to its obvious mirthlessness would only have been seen as hysterical.

Perhaps Kana had been wrong after all, and had made a mistake by telling him that last part, for as of now, he surely wasn't ready to deal with it.

"Damn it, Chihaya," he grumbled eventually, as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "All of these years of playing with poems and you still can't come up with your own metaphors. And you want to be a teacher?"

He took a deep breath before lowering his hand and turning sideways, his eyes fixing on the horizon beyond the glass door next to him. He could sense Kana's stare on his countenance, but didn't respond in kind.

"Of all the girls that walk this earth, all the airheads and maniacs and pretty-faces I had to fall for the one who's all three at once," he mused quietly instead. "Of all people I care about, I need to let go of the one that's most difficult to release. The one girl I couldn't forget if I tried."

"Mashima-san," Kanade countered. "I don't think the qualities you've just mentioned have anything to do with it. You don't love Chihaya-chan for her looks, do you? And it's that love that makes it difficult."

"No, you're right, I don't. But all they are a part of who she is," Taichi replied without missing a beat. "All of the qualities I mentioned are. And of course, there are a lot more, too. Still... I feel like it might have been easier if her personality was a little different in those particular aspects, you know?"

"How so?"

"Because then I wouldn't feel like I need to look after her," he said, his eyes shifting to her. "Look, I know she's strong. I know she can take care of herself and doesn't really need me in the way I wished she did. Even with all that, however, I can't help but worry about the times when she does need someone. Even just in high school, there were so many situations when her attitude could have been disastrous, because she couldn't be bothered to consider it from more than one angle, or because she didn't even know that she should.

"It's just... you don't know how difficult it is to stay away from her now," he added in a voice that cracked just a little. "To keep my distance when I see her struggle with something. Only today I had to restrain myself from walking over to her during the lunch break, because she seemed to be terribly under the weather, and I really might have done it if Nishida hadn't got to her first. Even though I know it's not what I should do or what she wants... It's just hard."

The gulp that he took was painful against his tightening throat, but Taichi paid it no mind.

"And it's only going to be worse now that I know about her leaving the club," he continued stubbornly. "Even right now, all I can think of is how I want to run to the library and see her, if only to tell her what I think of that decision of hers. It's stupid, so I won't do it. Still, it won't change the fact that I will want to, and that it won't fade away with time."

"But what does it have to do with Chihaya-chan's character?"

"Only that if I were used to thinking of her as a rational, responsible human being, then maybe stepping aside and letting her live her life wouldn't be this difficult. I wouldn't feel the need to interfere, because I wouldn't be used to doing it. And then it would be easier to reconcile with the fact that I'm not as indispensable as I once thought."

He chanced a glance at her then, a small, sad smile tugging on his lips. He knew what Kanade was going to say next, how she was going to contradict his words; and he didn't mind. After all, the few times when he had actually allowed himself to be vulnerable had always been shared with his (now former) co-members, and it was thanks to them being as helpful and trustworthy as they were.

Yes, that was exactly the word he would use to describe them.

Even with all his fears and all his barriers that he had raised along the years, he still had faith that they would not let him down or reject him, no matter what mistakes he might make.

The only people in the world that made him feel safe.

"Chihaya-chan surely wouldn't say that about you," he heard Kanade answer, much as he'd expected of her. "You are important to her. Even if not in every field, she does need you. And I think you understand that, too. You’d better."

Taichi's smile turned a little warmer.

"I do now," he replied, mindful to emphasise the last word properly. "It wasn't always obvious, but I suppose I'm wiser now, so that's something to be glad about. Even if it still doesn't seem like enough. Maybe it never will."

"But?" Kanade asked. "There's a but coming, isn't there?"

"But it's nothing to be worrying about now," he said, straightening up. "It won't change anything. I know what I must do now, even if it seems nearly impossible at times. Even though it never seems appealing. It's the right thing to do, however, and the only one I am actually certain of at the moment."

The look Kana gave him was sceptical, to say the least. "And by the right thing, do you mean staying away from her?" she asked. "Do you really believe that's the path you should choose?"

"It's the best I could think of and trust me, I've thought about it a lot. I need time. We both do, I think. And... since Chihaya is actually staying aloof... it seems best to use that opportunity and test out my hypothesis. Heaven knows it would be even harder if she did look for my company."

Kanade's gaze only turned more disbelieving, but she said nothing. And Taichi was glad, for he knew that whatever she might say to him now, no matter how wise or logical, would be disregarded by him in an instant. Not because he was free of doubt, like his words might suggest, but because the uncertainty was still there, and he couldn't let it take over him.

Although, there was also one thing he had no doubts about.

Whatever it might have looked like, however much he might have appeared to crave Chihaya's interest, he really didn't want her to come after him again, much less if it were to ask him to come back.

After all, the only reason why their talk last week hadn't gone south immediately was because she wasn't trying to do that.

Not like when...

"Anyway, as I said, there's no point in thinking about it now," he added resolutely, stubbornly refusing to accept this new direction his mind had shown. "Whether I'm right or wrong, only time can tell now. What I do know for sure, though, is that I've kept you long enough, so I won't anymore. Go to Chihaya, and then go to the practice. Tell everyone I say hi," he threw in as casually as he could, too. "And that I, too, am expecting them to work hard. Who knows, maybe if everything goes right, I'll come to cheer for you at the nationals."

"The regionals, you mean?" Kanade asked with a weak, resigned smile.

"I mean what I say," Taichi persisted. "And I say what I mean. You guys can still do it, especially now that Hokuo's best players have graduated. I don't think they even have an A-class player anymore... And you have two, right?"

"Yes, we do. I wasn't aware you knew. How?"

"Let's just say that Nishida was pretty shaken by seeing Tamaru Midori in the clubroom for the first time."

Taichi was happy to see Kanade let out a chuckle, even if she was clearly trying to stifle it. Then she sighed, her eyes shifting towards the wall clock opposite of her and then back to him. He gave a little nod. He understood.

"Really, go to her," he urged gently. "I have my own business to take care of, too. Thank you for the chat though, I really needed it."

"Same here. I'm happy we could talk."

She gave him one final smile and turned, waving her hand sheepishly in the process. Taichi returned the gesture and the expression alike, and then turned around himself, setting off towards the teacher's office, where he'd been supposed to show up much earlier no doubt.

He was not going to forget his task this time.

He only hoped that Taeko-sensei was still waiting for him there.