#similar to a video game I ignore the first two ch and then ask questions later with no intention of rereading

[orangespottedgiraffe]

Not her snitching on her sister like that

After all she did and then to be like she was dancing with him

I would’ve beat her ass after I got out that room

Also I’m not done yet

Not her choosing a man over her own sister her own mortal sister literal twin sister what

[meteora-writes]

We Could Be Perfect One Last Night ch.8

Fandom: Hannibal Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham Warnings: Angst, Revenge Plotting, Discussion of Cannibalism Chapter: 8. This Riddle Of Revenge Description: Jack receives a call from Alana. Will and Hannibal discuss what they intend to do with Bedelia and Jack when they get their hands on them. Authors Notes: So this took me way longer than I’d like to finish. The muses buggered off on me for a bit. But I’m back in time to get this posted before my birthday =D Yay!  Read on AO3

~~~~~ Read Ch.1.Ch.2.Ch.3.Ch.4.Ch.5.Ch.6 Ch.7~~~~~ 

Eight Days Post Fall

“Did you get the video?”

“Yes, Jack, I got the video,” Alana confirms with a sigh over the phone. She watched it three times before calling.

“And?” Jack asks expectantly.

“You want my professional opinion?” she asks, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. She only reached out to Jack via email earlier in the day to see if he had any information not shared in the news regarding Will and Hannibal being declared dead. She figured he would email her back with something other than a video of Will and Hannibal killing Francis Dolarhyde then falling off a cliff.

“That’s exactly what I want. I want to know what you think happened. You know Will better than I do. Do you think it’s possible he pushed them over the edge, or do you think that they fell? And do you think it’s possible they’re still alive.” It’s all he’s been able to think about for the last week. Did Will push them, or did he fall with Hannibal in some sort of staged plan to escape? Whatever the answer he won’t be satisfied until he has some kind of solid evidence. Which he, unfortunately, found none of while searching the area around the bluffs.

Half of the homeowners in the area refused to allow their vacation homes to be searched. Some stated that they had already been down to check the homes themselves and found nothing out of place. Others just ignored them or said they could search them if Jack got a warrant. With no evidence leading anyone to believe Will and Hannibal made it out of the ocean, no judge would issue one.

“I think that given the frame of mind Will had been in while helping you track down Francis Dolarhyde, he probably came to some kind of truce with Hannibal despite his feelings towards him to take the psychopath down. As for how things went with Hannibal in the end, Will knows how ruthless Hannibal can be, he probably saw no other way of dealing with him and pushed him over the edge the only way he could. The way they turned before falling would seem to support that.” Alana manages to sound professional as she gives Jack her assessment of things. Honestly, she has some very small doubts. But she isn’t going to voice them. Jack is wound tight enough as it is, she doesn’t want to agitate him when it’s likely pointless.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Jack confesses with a sigh. He remembers the three of them deciding they needed to kill Hannibal after Hannibal helps him kill Dolarhyde, but he never meant for it to go down like this. “Molly Graham is speaking at my suspension hearing next week. She wouldn’t return any of my calls after we initially spoke the day Will disappeared. I don’t think I’ll have my job for much longer…”

“Well, you did want to retire soon,” Alana notes, trying to lighten the mood of the call even just a little. She hasn’t met Molly, but knowing the kind of people Will is attracted to, she can imagine what she must be like.

“I had been hoping it would be at least a few more years away. When I was completely grey and too tired to hold a gun,” Jack says woefully. “Is everything alright with you? How are Margot and Morgan holding up?”

“We’re all just fine, Jack. Margot is busy teaching Morgan how to swim right now. I tried to tell her he’s a little young for that, but they’re having a good time so I won’t spoil their fun,” Alana tells him with a small smile to herself. She can see her wife and son out swimming through the window of her office. The estate they’re staying on is big. Not as big as the one in Virginia. But it’s substantial. And it has a pool. Which works in their favor since it’s summer in the southern hemisphere. 

“Must be nice. It’s still cold here,” Jack tells her with a chuckle. It’s warmed up a little since the storm that made the search for Will and Hannibal difficult, but it’s still only in the forties out most days.

“It is… Listen, Jack, I don’t honestly know if Will and Hannibal could have survived that fall or not. But I think if they had we would have had some sort of sign by now. Will would reach out to Molly or you if he could. Hannibal can bide his time when he wants something, but if he’s got Will with him I’m not so sure he would hold back for long.”

“It’s a waiting game. One that might never end…” Jack says as he turns in his chair to look out his office window. It’s a nice enough day out. Warming up enough to allow more snow to melt. 

“I need to go. I promised Margot I wouldn’t be too long. Email if you need to get in contact with me again. You’ll forgive me for not giving you another way to contact me, but we can’t be too careful,” Alana says, feeling just a little bad. She knows she can trust Jack. But wants to protect her family, and that means not trusting anyone despite what her gut tells her.

“I will. Thank you, Alana. Take care.”

“Take care, Jack.”

~~~~~

Twelve Days Post Fall

“You’re certain you’re ready to move forward with things?” Will asks as he removes the last stitch from the healed gunshot wound in Hannibal’s back. Hannibal removed the ones in the front on his own, but he needed Will’s help with the ones in his back just as he had in getting the wound stitches properly closed a day after receiving it. 

“Absolutely,” Hannibal answers with a glance over his shoulder at Will. He’s seated in one of the wooden chairs at the table, Will kneeling behind him. He would have liked to take the stitches out a little sooner, but Will had taken one look at them after nine days and said he needed more time to heal. He finds that hard to believe, but he went with Will’s judgment in this case. He suspects it was something more along the lines of Will not feeling ready to remove them for him as he still felt off-kilter from dealing with his own.

“Then we should go for Bedelia first. She more than likely went off on her own again rather than going into FBI protective custody. And even if she had that would have ended shortly after we were declared dead,” Will notes as he moves to help Hannibal put his shirt back on. Not that he needs the help, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. He feels cooped up. And he misses his dogs.

“Tracking her down won’t be difficult. She let slip one night that she used to summer in Connecticut. I believe her family still owns a home there that we can locate easily enough.” She had made the comment at a party they attended when first arriving in Italy. She didn’t think he was within earshot at the time, or she never would have said it. Everything she told the people they met was either a half-truth or some other variation thereof. He could always tell when she was lying. And she knew it. So, she didn’t bother lying beyond the deception of their true identities. “Tell me, do you intend to help me deal with her, or do you simply wish to watch?”

Will steps around the chair Hannibal sits in to stand in front of him, watching as he carefully buttons his shirt while he thinks on his answer. A small part of him almost likes Bedelia. But knowing she got away with the lengths she went to lie and cover her own skin after willingly leaving the country with Hannibal bothers him on some level. She was honest with Will in private. He can appreciate that. But she’s used her experience with Hannibal to make a name for herself and gain a level of professional esteem that she never would have achieved otherwise. It’s almost as irritating as what Chilton did with his damn book.

“What exactly is it that you plan on doing with her?” Will asks leu of answering right away. He knows Hannibal intends to eat her. The question is, does he plan to kill her and then eat her, or keep her alive like he did with Miriam Lass so he can toy with her first?

“I was thinking I might like to give her a similar treatment to that of the one I gave Dr. Gideon,” Hannibal explains as he finishes buttoning his shirt and moves to stand so that he and Will are eye to eye.

“The forensic report said his limbs had been amputated,” Will recalls with a tilt of his head. He didn’t ever get a look at the body in person, just read the paperwork and look at photos later on. “Taken one by one over the course of roughly two weeks. His stomach had his own partially digested remains inside.”

The smile on Hannibal’s face is one of his rare genuine ones. “He made for a most fascinating dinner guest. It was almost a shame to kill him. He ate everything I prepared and served him. Even when he was down to a single arm and had very little appetite left,” Hannibal recalls. The man was absolutely insufferable on some levels, but he took his fate in stride and could keep up a conversation. He can respect that at least.

“I don’t know if I’m more impressed or disturbed by that,” Will says with a shake of his head. He’s joking, just a little.

“I seriously doubt that you find anything I’m capable of to be truly disturbing at this point,” Hannibal speculates. “If the idea of my keeping Bedelia alive bothers you, you don’t have to participate. I’m more than capable of taking care of her on my own.”

Will considers the offer. Thinks about what it would be like to sit at the table with her and Hannibal as he serves up some piece of her like a fine holiday meal. See the look of defeat in her eyes as she accepts her plate. A small, fading part of him still screams somewhere deep down that it’s wrong. But he doesn’t honestly feel bothered by the idea. Especially given the fact that he knows he’s eaten people before… Unwittingly as it was at the time. “It doesn’t bother me,”  he finally admits as he turns away to look out the window.

“You’re certain?” Hannibal questions carefully. They’ve not really talked about this yet. Killing Jack together was a given. But Bedelia is Hannibal’s own personal vendetta. He knows Will accepts that Hannibal intends to eat them both. But he hasn’t said if he intends to join him or not. Which Hannibal won’t push. He won’t force him to do something he isn’t interested to in this case.

“I don’t feel any desire to eat her, but I would like to see the look on Bedelia’s face when you serve up a piece of her up for dinner,” Will admits as he glances back to Hannibal. He doesn’t miss the way his words affect the other man. Something in his eyes becoming almost primal. It sends a shiver down his spine as it reminds him of the look in Hannibal’s eyes when he ripped out Francis Dolarhyde’s throat with his teeth. “Do you intend to do the same to Jack when we go after him?”

“The thought had crossed my mind, but I leave that decision up to you. After all, you are the one who was most wronged by him. He treated you like an animal, Will. And an ill cared for one, at that. I think it’s only fair you should be the one to decide what’s to be done with him in the end,” Hannibal says as he turns to grab his notebook from where he left it beside the bed. He doesn’t doubt that whatever Will decides upon will be in some way satisfying for him also. He remembers quite well how vivid the other incredibly man’s imagination is. “You should take your time deciding. Nothing has to be settled upon until after we’ve finished with Bedelia.”

“I already know what I want to do with Jack,” Will says plainly as he watches Hannibal walk over to take his usual seat on the far end of the couch. He always lets Will take the side closest to the window so that he can sit and look outside if he likes. It also means he’s facing Hannibal if he does so. And he’s not blind to the fact that he’s been the subject of more than one of Hannibal’s sketches in that situations.

“Oh?” Hannibal doesn’t look up, just turns the pages of the notebook until he finds the latest sketch he’d been working on.

“I was thinking about how he and I first met,” Will begins as he takes his seat opposite Hannibal on the couch, body turned towards him with one leg pulled up onto the space between them at an angle. His posture is wide open. One arm resting on the back of the couch while the other rests so his hand is in his lap.

That gets a curious look from Hannibal, who pauses in the shading he’d begun to work on. “The museum opening?”

Nodding, Will scratches at his jaw and looks out the window once again. There are still patches of snow on the ground. Early March weather changing the landscape to a muddy semi-frozen mess. “I have some ideas on how we might contribute our own exhibit to it.” 

The smile that creeps on to Will’s face is enough to give Hannibal an idea of what the other man is thinking, and it sends a thrill through him at the thought of Will having thought this through already in detail. “He did seem quite invested the one time we spoke of the museum.”

Will huffs a laugh, because that is a serious understatement. “Jack was intimately involved in creating and establishing that museum. He helped track down half of the items on display personally. He was like a proud parent come to watch their child graduate when it finally opened.” He remembers their argument over the name that night well. And he remembers thinking Jack was a fool that would probably end up part of a display in his own creation someday. It only seems fitting that he and Hannibal be the ones to put him there. “He was almost as invested in the forming of that museum as he was in finding the Chesapeake Ripper,” he notes. “How do you feel about making him into an exhibit in his own museum? I was thinking something along the lines of the Chesapeake Ripper’s greatest hits?”

“A mosaic forged from the elements of my previous kills?” Hannibal finds himself imagining Jack strung up like a mannequin, body cut open, various pieces missing or artistically arranged along with him. Posed in a way that lets everyone who lays their eyes upon him see the scope of their work at a glimpse. It gives him an idea of what to do with the rest of Bedelia when he’s finished with her as well. “Beautiful.”

“I thought you might like that idea,” Will says almost fondly with a shake of his head before looking outside once again. The sunlight makes his eyes sparkle with an almost ethereal glow. 

It makes Hannibal want to flip the page and draw him yet again… “What about your own contribution? This would be your work of art as well as my own,” Hannibal reminds him. He honestly loves Will’s idea, but he wants him to contribute his own elements to this creation.

“I have my own twist to put on things,” Will says vaguely as he turns his head and glances towards the tacklebox where it rests by the table. “Don’t worry, Hannibal, I intend to leave my mark alongside yours when the time comes.”

“I look forward to it,” Hannibal confesses with a small smile. He’s watched Will for almost two weeks now. Making his fishing lures and daydreaming. He wishes he could see the things that come to that fascinating mind when it drifts. He knows Will likes to go to his stream when he has nothing else to do, but he also lets himself wander to darker places from time to time now that he only dared go when Hannibal asked. Because of that, it’s easy to spot when he does. His eyes take on a more feral sharpness that isn’t there other than when he’s ready to kill. It never fails to bring a similar desire out in Hannibal when he sees it.

“When do you want to leave?” Will asks with a tilt of his head after a moment silence passes between them. His gaze has drifted to the sketch in Hannibal’s hands. It’s of his old office. The furniture and fireplace are what give it away at a glance. Will still sees the room in his mind regularly enough to recognize the half-drawn shapes.

“I’ll give Chiyoh a call tomorrow and ask her to bring us to my house in New York. She can get us a temporary vehicle and more supplies while we get the house ready for guests.” He hasn’t been there in over four years. Having last gone some time before ever meeting Will. He’ll need to get new medical supplies and restock the pantry before they make their move to retrieve Bedelia.

“How far away is this place, anyway?”

Humming, Hannibal thinks a moment. “About four hours or so. It’s in the lower mountains, close to a town called Rhinebeck.”

“Great,” Will mutters with a slight look of discomfort flashing across his face. He doesn’t know how to feel about being in a car with Chiyoh for that long. He’s still a little bitter about their last interaction on the train. Her visit to bring them supplies was awkward enough for him as it was. He can only imagine what a road trip with her would be like. Especially with Hannibal and his ability to read people most of the time.

“You worry too much, Will. Chiyoh holds no feelings of ill will towards you. She is aware of how important you are to me. That makes you important to her as well. You’re family, and she would never do anything to hurt family,” Hannibal does his best to assure. He had spoken with her in private outside before she left the other day. She could tell from one look at the two of them together that something had shifted in their dynamic. He didn’t need to explain and she didn’t ask. Only promised to help the two of them finish what they needed here so they could find a quiet life together when all is said and done.

Will shifts almost uncomfortably in his seat, hand going to that torn bit of leather on the couch back to fidget with. “Did she tell you that or are you just making assumptions based on interactions?”

“She gave me her word,” Hannibal says in way of clarification. “She promised me to assist us in getting our affairs in order so that we may leave together after things have been taken care of.”

Will raises his eyes from Hannibal’s drawing and once again meets Hannibal’s gaze, uncertain blue meeting confident whiskey-brown. He relaxes after a beat and nods. “Alright,” is all he says before averting his gaze again and letting his thoughts drift. It’s good to know she’s willing to help them in some way. That she made that promise to Hannibal. 

His thoughts find their way to images of them confronting Jack. Going through various scenarios of how they might surprise him to get the upper hand in a fight against the well-trained agent. What things they might do with his body after to leave their farewell masterpiece. 

The only thing that draws his mind away is the realization that Hannibal is watching him from mere feet away with a smile on his face. It makes him look younger. And draws Will’s gaze to his lips more than once. He tries to hold back the thoughts that come with looking at them. He’s not quite ready for them. At least not yet.

[lonely-bored-writer]

Casper High Ch. 8

Danny was used to handling his things on his own. Ever since team Phantom was disbanded because his best friends had to move out to whole different states and his sister moved out to live at college, Danny has been on his own. So you can say Danny knew how to keep things to himself. Hell, he even kept things from his two best friends all the time. He didn't like having people worry about him, always feeling like he was a burden. So the whole situation with the Winchesters just made his carefully constructed system of coping a little worse.

He couldn't imagine breaking the Winchester's trust. Every time his injuries, from either his parents or hunting, were too harsh, he'd go to them as promised. The first time, it took a lot of arguing with himself to finally go to the Winchesters for help. It had been a particularly harsh 'lab session' with his parents that left him with a little more than the usual; the wounds weren't the worst he had, but the placement of the injuries made it a little too hard to reach on his own.

He was prepping a story, anything to sound less harsh than the reality that had actually occurred. But the moment he knocked uninvited, Dean regarded him with one look before ushering him in. No explanation was asked for, nor was Danny made uncomfortable- the only questions that came were to try and figure out just how bad the gashes were. Sam had quietly helping his brother along, with not much word of his own.

"Danny, come on!" Tucker laughed, waving through the camera. "I wanna know the details." Tucker finished the comment with a wiggle of his brows. Danny blushed, trying to laugh it off as his goth best friend laughed along in the taunts.

"Guys come on, it's not like that." Danny shook his head, his hair following in an attempt to hide the blush. It really wasn't what they think, right? Like just because he made a new friend doesn't mean it has to be anything like the two were implying...

"Come on Danny." Sam shook her head with a laugh, turning to look at the smallest teen. "We know you better than you know yourself." Danny paused, slightly glad that that wasn't completely true- he really liked keeping his friends from worrying too much. They would get grey hair by the time they were twenty, Danny swore, and by the time they were thirty they would probably have hair whiter than Phantom's.

"Yeah dude, we know." Tucker smirked, wiggling his brows. Danny groaned, dropping his head onto the desk with a thump. "It's okay, we won't tell."

"Not like you can do any harm." Danny glared, watching his friends share a look even through the digital stream. The ravenette sighed, glancing around his desk, surprised for once that he was actually on top of his school work for the first time in so very long. Sometimes a break was nice, no need to complicate it. "'Sides, it's not like that. We're just friends."

"For now!" Tucker responded in a sing-song voice. "Regardless dude, you know we just like seeing you happy." Tucker sobered, giving his friend a small smile.

"Yeah, just being close to someone else, means a lot. It's good that you actually have a person that you can physically interact with instead of just staunchly refusing any other chances to make friends after we moved." Sam chimed, flashing her own approving smile. Danny smiled back, knowing his friends jokes were all in good faith- his friends really cared for him and loved him in the way only such close knit friends can.

"I know guys." Danny smiled, waving off the topic. "I'll just need to-"

"DANNY!" A loud voice muffled through the door. Danny sighed, glancing towards the door. Turning back to his friends with an apologetic smile, another call sounding through the wood.

"Looks like I'm needed." He smiled, ignoring the pang of sadness of having to leave the call. The others laughed, shaking their heads, none the wiser to how his parents have changed.

"It's a wonder how they even survive without you." Sam laughed, glancing at her clock. "I have a date soon, so I should get ready."

"I got a robotics meeting soon." Tucker chimed, smiling back. "Stay clear of the radars." Tucker teased. They shared their goodbyes, clicking out about the same time. Danny sighed, closing his laptop. Another call of his name rang out, this time deeper than the last. His dad.

Danny pulled himself to his door, hesitating ever so slightly. Hopefully it wouldn't go anywhere, and if it did, he wouldn't go to see the brothers. He already wasted his daily medically meet-up this morning and Danny didn't want to bother them again so soon. He pulled open his door, just when another call sounded.

"I'm coming!" Danny called back, hopping down the stairs quickly. It was better to not keep them waiting. To his shock, Danny was met with both parents settled in the kitchen. An oddly placed looking Sam standing awkwardly across from them. "Hey Sam." Danny greeted, confused on why the taller teen was there.

"Danny, you never mentioned your new friend." Maddie mused, smiling welcoming to the teen. Sam smiled awkwardly, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"Uh yea, it never came up." Danny shot Sam an apologetic smile. He shifted the focus from his parents to Sam. "Why're you here?" He asked, inwardly wincing at how harsh the tone sounded. He felt a little worse when Sam looked like a kicked puppy for a split-second.

"I thought maybe we could hang out?" Sam sounded sheepish as he spoke, almost like he's realizing what a mistake he made; going over to Danny's home probably wasn't the best idea.

"You boys could go up to Danny's room." Maddie offered, waving towards the stairs. "You're welcome to stay for dinner." Maddie smiled.

"I'm sure Sam's brother would want him back." Danny cut in, trying to give Sam a way out. Sam luckily was smart enough to take his hint.

"Maybe another time, Danny's right. My brother would get worried and he's cooking tonight anyways" Sam smiled politely. Maddie nodded understandingly, and patted her husband on the shoulder to get him to move.

"You two boys head up, we'll be in the lab if you need us."

Danny grabbed Sam's hand and quickly dragged him up the stairs before his mom could say anything else. It was once they got up the stairs that Danny realized he was still holding the taller teen's hand. With a small blush, he let go, guiding them towards his room.

"Sorry for the mess." Danny excused, quickly grabbing a few strewn clothing items. "I wasn't really expecting anyone..." Danny trailed looking around the small room. He kept it minimalist, the only figurines or trinkets were gifts from his friends or collectibles from their favorite shows and such. The walls were still the same exact purple color he had since childhood. Space and band posters alike were littered across his walls.

"It's okay, it's not that bad." Sam smiled, looking around. "It's better than what Dean sometimes is like."

"I'm not surprised." Danny laughed, taking a seat on the bed and motioned for Sam to join him. "I don't have much we can do, I have a few card games and a few video games."

"What card games?" Sam mused, turning his interest to the teen. "I'm more of a cards game person." Sam seemed slightly embarrassed at that. Danny chuckled, looking over at his shelf. His eyes scanned over the various boxes before settling on one of his favorites. This used to be team Phantoms go to game when they settled in at his place for the sleep overs.

"Your Worst Nightmare? It's an actual card game my other friend Sam found one day." Danny questioned, walking over to the shelf. "The whole game is just ordering fear, and trying to guess the other persons' right." He explained, turning the pitch black box towards the taller teen. He regarded how Sam looked a little surprised by the game. "Uh, Tucker and other Sam used to play it a ton with me." Danny explained, rubbing the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

"It sounds fun." Sam smiled warmly, motioning towards the floor in question.

"Best spot to playing card games." Danny laughed, plopping down on the rugged floor. Sam followed suit, listening intently as Danny pulled out the components of the game and explained how its played.

Maybe this game wasn't the smartest choice, it just had been one of the few games the original trio hadn't minded playing constantly and Danny was feeling slightly nostalgic after talking to his two oldest friends. Every game was always slightly different which lead to some interesting debates on the fear level for a few things. The problem with playing it with the Winchester was that he didn't know what Danny did daily, or what he had experienced. It was after the first round that Danny realized that he wasn't the only one who had weird fear levels.

This round, the fears in question were ghosts, Vampires, electricity, and germs. It was easy for Danny to fill his out, he barely had to think it through. Electricity, germs, vampires, and then dead last were ghosts. It was hard to be scared of something you deal with on a daily basis. After defeating the worst ghost in the zone, it was even harder to be too scared.

For Sam, he went with a realistic order. He just tried to see it through the eyes of an average school student, and that was when he realized something was off. It was the largest gap form all the other rounds, and it was much too similar to his. Sam's order was germs, electricity, ghost, and then vampires. Sam placed ghosts above vampires but both at the bottom scariest, and maybe Sam was just not superstitious, it was just his reasoning that set the suspicion in place.

"Well, you can't see germs. Electricity can cause heart attacks." Sam explained easily. "Vampires are pretty easy to deal with, but ghosts are complicated." Sam shuddered as if remembering something, which was where Danny realized Sam was talking like he knew from experience.

"From what I saw vampires are easier with just a stake to the heart. For ghosts you need a whole priest." The shorter teen laughed and he watched Sam freeze, almost like he said something he shouldn't before laughing causally.

"In lore Vampires are handled by chopping off their heads, and ghosts are dealt with by burning the remains or something that ties them to earth." Sam explained, before pausing for barely a second. "Besides you can't really see ghosts right?" Sam laughed, but Danny could pick up the hints of awkwardness.

He can't really dig or be hurt that Sam seemed like he was lying. It's not like Danny doesn't hide a whole side of his life from pretty much everyone in his life. Danny joined the laughter, burying that train of thought to think about later when he wasn't enjoying his time with Sam.

"I think we've played long enough." Danny chimes, looking down at the amount of tallies on the scare card. It had been close every round, both teens either being completely wrong, and pretty close in their guesses. "I think a lunch break is in order."

That train of thought hit him like a ton of bricks that night. He and Sam had a surprisingly good day, the light awkwardness that seemed to hover over them since the first time Sam came over seemed to vanish into thin air. The two had gone out to eat at the Nasty Burger before spending some time at the local park. Danny luckily had not been called away at all in the time they spent together, as all the ghosts were out of the picture for the day. When he got home, his parents were too distracted in the lab to really notice his arrival, only doing so when he brought down food, but luckily they hadn't needed his help.

That's how Danny found himself sprawled out across his bed, enjoy the nice break the day brought on after that morning. However his calm feeling didn't last long when the original doubt and suspicion hit him that night. Leave it to his anxieties to turn the day bad. With a sigh the teen rolled over, grabbing his phone.

"U guys up?" Danny texted into the group chat, and not long after the sign for both friends becoming active popped up.

"Ya dude whats up" Tucker's messaged pinged through before Sam's did.

"Whats anxiey got on the manu?" Danny chuckled, all of them usually got lazy when it came to text. They've all gotten surprisingly good at figuring out what the other was saying when it's completely butchered.

"It's Sam..." Danny hit send, before typing out another message as quickly as possible and hitting send. "i thomk his dixferny"

"Different how" Both friends sent the same message. Danny sighed, rolling his thoughts through his head. It wasn't like his anxiety driven thoughts were easy to put into words.

"Like parent" He shot back, blinking up at the ceiling. It wasn't that hard to imagine, the other teen had a good range of knowledge on urban legends and folktales. He and his family are constantly traveling for their dad's 'mechanic' job. Clockwork has told Danny about these types, he just never expected to ever run into one.

"Ghost hunters?" Tucker shot back, a shocked emoji tagged at the end of the message.

"Hunter." Danny shot back, remembering when he had explained it to Sam and Tucker the day he learned about it. "Like Stopwatch said"

"Danny this isn't good" Sam messaged, a worry emoji sitting at both the beginning and end of the message.

"Ik" Danny sighed, flipping onto his back. His life just always had to be complicated. "U guys r rite tho" He sent, knowing the other two would know exactly what he was talking about.

"I KNEW IT" Tucker sent with cheer emojis after. Danny couldn't help but laugh at the message.

"TUCKER" Sam scolded easily read through text, before another message from her came through. "When he leave"

"bout a week tops" Danny felt sadness fill him at the reminder of what the brothers mentioned not long ago. "day after their dad pops in"

"dw about hunter thang" Sam sent in, the same time a sorry message from Tucker popped in.

"Jus injoy time with mate sam" Tucker texted, a sad emoji popped onto the end. "No worries"

"ur rite" Danny shot back, eyes glued on the text bubbled. He wasn't an idiot, Sam didn't give him a number or email because it just wasn't something hunters do. They don't really make connections that last. He also wasn't delusional enough to believe he'd ever see the other boy again. It's better not to spoil this time, the Winchesters were still treasured friends.

"Try sleep?" Tucker message, waiting for the usual confirmation good night to come through. Sam always responded with a shooting star, Danny responding with a crescent moon, the waning one, and when one of the others asked if they were going to sleep, Tucker had to be the weirdo and use that creepy moon face emoji. The active dot by both names vanished, before Danny settled his phone down for the night. Yea, he'll just try to enjoy his time with the brothers. Memories are forever, even if people aren't.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 19

Well this came as surprise to me. Literally, the whole idea came to me before I was going to bed so I wrote it the next morning, and here we are. Features some Aladdin quotes, see if you can spot them. Enjoy! 

“And then Icarus, what a guy, he is so convincing as Hades, Pain and Panic start following him!” Calix hooted.

“No way, man that didn’t actually happen.” Jay challenged Calix’s story.

“No, no I’ve heard Icarus’ Hades impression, he’s good.” Aziz confirmed, “Hey, remember Icarus’ Hades impression after three drinks at Dionysus’ bacchanal?”

Calix gulped back the drink Circe had left in their shared room and where he, Aziz, and Jay were passing the time sharing stories while waiting around for Uma and Jordan’s arrival.

It had been a pretty placid three days since Jordan reversed Jay’s hypnosis for Malik’s last wish. At first there was a panic when they realized how suspicious it would be if Jay was no longer under Jafar’s thrall but they fixed that with Jordan giving him glowing red contacts. Allowing them to have another infiltrator at the Coven meetings besides Jade, Calix and Uma.

The door opened and Jordan slipped into the room, gingerly cradling her lamp in her hands. But no Uma behind her.

These three placid days had driven Uma to distraction since they were laying around on their asses and not doing anything so she arranged for this new meeting so they’d find something else to do besides eavesdrop for news of what was happening at next week’s Summer Solstice.

But even though this meeting was so important that she felt the need to threaten them with slow, graphic strangulation with her tentacles while Harry used his hook to disembowel him, apparently their leader was late.

“Where’s Jade?” Calix asked, throwing back another shot. It was a fair question since Jordan’s lamp was still technically under Jade’s possession. Or so the Coven thought.

“Showing makeup techniques to Lala and Malik.” Jordan answered.

“Oh right, Lala mentioned that to me this morning.” Aziz warily eyed the fifth shot Calix gulped down.

“Oh, she did? You talk about things other than the plan?” Jordan smoothly slid between him and Calix, her voice was suspiciously too nonchalant.

“Yeah, conversations spawn into different topics. That’s what happens when two people hang out with each other.” Aziz said a little testily with how Jordan was scanning his face like she was searching for some secret that he’d be careless enough to slip.

“Oh you and Lala hanging out together.” Jordan pursed her lips lightly, sounding way too similar to a disapproving aunt, “Can we have a private conversation in my lamp.”

Before Aziz could suss out whatever she was trying to pull and where this was coming from, Jordan had transported them into her lamp.

“Do you have a crush on Lala?” She blurted out accusingly.

Aziz decided to go for a joke, “I-I don’t know about me crushing her, bu-but I can’t blame her if the reverse is true. I mean, look at me.”

Jordan stared with an unamused raised eyebrow.

“Aziz, I know you.” She started, as if that explained why she was so sure she found the romance of the century after two innocent sentences, “I've seen you go through this before. You’re just hanging out with a girl but then you start talking about every topic under the sun. And then you get a crush and you’re all like “She's smart and fun, she’s got these eyes that just...and her hair wow! And her smile!”

“Then you go on a date that doesn’t really go anywhere for whatever reason and get pushed aside. Remember, Lonnie, and Ruby, and Alexandria and Alfonsa, and Arabella, and her twin sisters, woah! Now that I list them out, you date a lot of Triton’s granddaughters.”

“What is your point? What does that have to do with me and Lala? Not that there is anything happening.” Aziz felt himself gulping back the nervousness that he knew exactly what she was talking about even as he denied it.

“Oh please, you’re half smiling while you say her name!”

“I’m not!” Aziz unmanly squawked and cleared his throat into a deeper contralto, “I do not.”

“My point is it’s one thing to date an Ak. You get your heart broken. But a Vk? She’ll try to steal your throne and break your heart.” Jordan said.

“Steals your throne and breaks your heart. Sounds the title of a sex tape. Do you want dibs or can I have it?” Aziz took a shot in the dark to try joking his way out of this again.  “Now is not the time to joke about the title of our sex tapes. This is serious!”  “You’re still hung up on, “Can your friend do this?” It’s a bit obvious.” Aziz pointed out. 

“Oh, you wanted to call your first sex tape, “A whole new world,” like that’s original.” Jordan shot back.  “And the “Welcome to the Cave of Wonders” piece you did with Calix was a unique one?” Aziz retorted. 

“For your information, I couldn’t choose any title but that because.. wait wait wait? Now is not the time.”

“Aziz Ali iban Aladdin, explain yourself right now.” Jordan crossed her arms.  “Jordan, we’ve been over this. You’re not my mom.” Aziz huffed at the use of his full name.  “You’re right, I’m not. Your mom doesn’t know about what happened in Odiferous during spring break. Now I have a phone and I have video. So tell me about your feelings for Lala.”  

“You’re jumping to conclusions.” Aziz said exasperatedly which was no use since she was ignoring anything that came out of his mouth.

“When did you first feel something more?” Jordan demanded.

“Rarw. Rrrawr. Meow? Are you understanding me at all?” Aziz asked the stony faced leopard man.

Aziz had to admit some of his attempts to talk to the leopard-men was out of boredom. He was starting to get a bit stir crazy being stuck in the castle all day pretending to be Jade or Lala’s slave boy. He could understand why Uncle Genie hated being in the lamp. It was so boring, having to wait for permission to do things and the things you were allowed to do was stuck inside. No running around the corridors and flipping off roofs with wind rushing through your hair or the pit in your stomach when you almost break your neck.

He missed it.

And although Lala was pretty focused in studying the Atlantean texts her mother laid out for her, even she seemed to be getting bored because at random moments, she would angrily shut her book and demand to hear Aziz talk about Agrabah.

He had to admit that if he had a choice, he’d rather be with Jordan and the others trying to make a plan to escape or at least go outside. Talking about Agrabah was getting to be the highlight of his day.

He had started with daring adventure stories about the things his parents used to get into before the Great Uniting like when they had to fight a landshark or the time his dad literally lost his head to the decapitated wizard, Caliph Kapok, and they had to get body and head back together again. He had lots of those stories, Genie often said they could create their own tv series, possibly an animated one for kids to enjoy.

And then, upon Lala’s numerous aside questions, he started describing Agrabah with its alluring spices, chests of gold and diverse and eccentric cast of merchants and travelers that lived in the Seven Deserts. He described the bad like the previous-rampant poverty that seemed similar to the Isle albeit with more head chopping from fellow humans than from a bitter decapitated wizard. It was embarrassing but one time he looked at the ornate diamond-encrusted sand-dial and saw that he had passed over an hour talking about his home. He hadn’t meant to but it just came out. He loved his home so much and describing it felt like he was back there on the dunes for a little while.

He had never talked to anyone about his home before. Jordan already knew what it was like obviously, and no one at Auradon Prep cared beyond the merchandise they could buy at the kazbah. It was so much more than that to him. Living there was an experience, an adventure. You never knew where the smell of spices could lead you or what the secret nooks and crannies would reveal.

The thing was Lala seemed just as enthralled with the place as he was. Usually when he discussed his home, people would shudder in horror at the thought of being accidentally turned into a rat due magic gone wrong and seeing the world from down below or cringed at the thought of getting sand in uncomfortable places after intense competitions of sand surfing.

But Lala looked at him with a sparkle of excitement in her eye and would occasionally point out fun variations to try like horse racing only instead of across the desert, race under the desert, jumping to the few dry spots that were present in the muddy underbelly.

He hoped that if they succeeded in defeating the Coven, Lala would visit Agrabah one day. He had a feeling that the adventures they’d get into together would be amazing. Potentially life threatening. But fun nonetheless. He’d love to watch her go against Fashoom. Or better yet, back to back against the giant scorpions guarding kanz quadim. With his wits and knowledge and her skill and cunning, they’d be an unbeatable team. It’d be fun to go with someone who wanted to be there. 

Normally, he went with Jordan but she said it was only because it was her obligation to keep him from breaking his neck and/or all the bones in his body. Her words.  And his few Agrabah friends who would be game to go, were commoners who had to work during the day and it would be unfair for him to ask them to ditch just because he wanted some fun. 

Yeah, it’d be fun to explore the hidden valleys of the Seven Deserts with her. He looked back to the white-haired girl where she was still bent over a book of indecipherable Atlantean words and figures, so he turned back to Kaj II, Usulan II and Muviro II. Lala’s leopard men she had named after people she knew would annoy her mother.

Aziz growled with two purrs spaced between like he had heard Raj do but the leopard men looked at him like he was an idiot. He wasn’t sure he was even speaking cat-language but it was better than accidentally challenging him to a fight so he’d take it.

“Will you stop with the ridiculous sounds, you’re not speaking leopard. Better stick to monkeys.” Lala cut through his attempts at conversing.

“How would you know? You said you don’t speak leopard.” Aziz shot back, happy that there was some element of human conversation. How the hell she lived in a jungle for days on end without human interaction was beyond his capabilities. “True. However, I know what a leopard sounds like and you don’t sound like a leopard. More like a sick alley cat.”

“Excuse me, priestess” Aziz rolled his eyes, and made another purr-growly sound at the leopards just to be contrary.

When could he go outside? When? When? When?

No, it was stupid. He couldn’t go outside and risk looking like he was escaping and ruin the whole damn mission requiring the others to get his ass out of the dungeon again.

He shuddered, gingerly touching the cheek where Staqauit had struck him numerous times, the malicious laughter of the cat twins taunting him about his impending death.

He needed to do something. Being stuck here with just his thoughts was going to drive him insane.

“Hello?”

“Huh what?”

“I said,'' Lala cleared her throat, “If you want to sound more leopard-like, start with a growl in your throat while meowing and add like you’re going to scream.” She demonstrated her leopard yowl which did get  the leopard men’s attention as they looked around for sign of attack or danger.

Aziz tried to mimic what Lala did with her instructions but failed part way through as a tickle caught in his nose before his attempted scream and he fell into a coughing fit, painfully hacking his throat.

Aziz panted, catching his breath while Lala had the grace to look back at her book and pretend not to be amused, “Okay maybe talking to cats is not my thing. But you got a leg up me with your feline self.”

“Feline self?” Lala cocked her head curiously, bringing once again to Aziz’s mind, “Curiosity killed the cat.”

“You know, your eyes, the leopards, the-” 

“You think I was born with these eyes? You think I’m part cat?” Lala questioned. “Nooo,” Aziz hedged, already seeing he was going to be wrong, “Not anymore. It’s just your mom has the same eyes so I-”

“It’s spell.” Lala explained, “My mom did it when she got her staff. She did it to me when magic got through to the Isle. It helps me understand the leopards and for them to understand my orders, and it helps my reflexes. There is always a way to improve. Not that I needed improving, but I’ll admit some leopard senses are better than human’s. Like smell. Now I can smell everyone’s scent a mile away.”  .

“Scent?” “Yes, your natural scent. You smell like all that baklav Jordan’s been giving you.” She sniffed the air around him again, “Sand. Jasmine. Musk.”

“What does Jordan smell like?” Aziz asked curiously, and a little relieved that he didn’t smell worse like blood and sweat and general stink from not showering for two weeks.

“Hmm I can’t get a clear smell. You know, not objects per say. But she smells like pheromones, sometimes like fire, sand and wind. Mainly reeks of desperation.”

“Well we’re all in desperate straits here.” Aziz chuckled even though it wasn’t really that funny. Well sort of. Jordan absolutely hated not being in control. Or at least looking like she wasn’t in control. She’d freak if she knew that she quote unquote “reeked of desperation.”

“What about Jay?”

“Sweat, oil, grease, brass, musk, dirt. Something else I can’t tell which usually means someone’s hiding something or lying. Not a surprise there. He’s lucky no one else can smell him, the stench of oil and deceit is unbearable on him.”

“Yeah, good thing. I doubt he’d have a lot of admirers around him if he did.” Aziz said, feeling his mind wander off to too familiar but inevitable train of envious thought. 

“Admirers? He has admirers in Auradon? I thought you people didn’t like thieves and bad guys. Why is he popular?”

“He’s good now.” Aziz reminded her, but couldn’t stop the bitterness creeping into his voice as he thought of the crowds praising Jay as he scored yet another goal. All the girls and some guys ooing at him and being utterly charmed as he showed off that he stole their wallets. Or if he executed a pretty decent backflip. The guy looked so cool and attractive no matter what he did. And that bad boy act made him even cooler in everyone’s eyes.

“He’s a good thief like Aladdin,” he remembered hearing someone say and Aziz had burned. Good thief?! Jay wasn’t a good thief! Jay wasn’t stealing things in Auradon because he was hungry or wanted to give to the poor. He stole because he was greedy. Aziz could steal too, Dad taught him the tricks, but when he showed off, he got no applause. They thought he was being inappropriate for a prince of his station.

Or now that Jay was here, it was a second-rate kind of steal. He could steal a watch from someone, but Jay could steal a person’s computer and lunch bag. He got the bigger score.

“People love him and his parkor and stupid tourney goals.” Aziz genuinely growled. He felt his blood pump at how everyone were magnets drawn to his presence while he waited in the wings of the tourney field. They did all the same activities, but Jay was better. People were saying he was equal to Aladdin.

If he was forgettable before Jay came around, now he was just invisible.

And honestly useless compared to Jay. He knew Jordan invited him on this mission because she trusted him and it would be breaking unofficial rule that if one of them went on a life changing save the world adventure, the other had to come too, that was just how things were done. But had he really done anything useful?

No, he had gotten captured. They all had gotten captured but he was the only one who had almost died. Because he was mortal, untrained and weak.

The thoughts came again. Had really been less than a week since he had been in the dungeon? Less than a week but at times he still could feel it as if it had been hours ago.

He could remember it all, some of it was blurred darkness. The only thing registering was that he was in pain. But he remembered the beginning.

Staqauit wasted no time grabbing his throat with one hand and choking him, Chimera and Illusion wrapped their arms around him almost as if they were giving a comforting hug. The thought was quickly diminished as their claws tore through his shirt and dug into his skin, he could feel it, feel the slight curve of their sharpness like a hook that wouldn’t be able to get out. And they didn’t no matter how he fruitlessly thrashed.

But it was only the beginning…

Just as he saw the world fuzz around the edges Staqauit threw him to the ground with Chimera and Illusion still stuck to him.

“Squish” Aziz wanted to scream at the pain that entered his torso and at the sickening sound of his blood squirting out. It felt his insides were dipped into boiling water.  

But he didn’t, he stubbornly refused to cry out. He was supposed to be a hero, he would not admit weakness like this. He would use his wits to get out of it.

But he had barely time to think up a clever escape as he vainly scrambled to stop the blood from gushing out more. He didn’t recall any of the princes or his father ever being stabbed mid-battle.

Chimera and Illusion extricated themselves from him, their low voices purring contentedly at the pain wrought.

Aziz tried to get up but he couldn’t. He felt the stabbing pain even though he wasn’t being hit anymore. He couldn’t concentrate. He just felt the agony. He struggled to his feet but the muscles in his legs gave out as he slipped on the puddle of his own blood that was seeping the floor.

“Ah ah ah, you think I’m done with you?” Staqauit’s accented voice sneered, “That was only a minor surface wound.”

Aziz didn’t look at the man. He was too concerned with trying to stand up straight again, but that was for naught when he felt the scraping cement of what seemed to be a boulder dropped on his back.

“Carry this to the other side of the room. Double time.” Staqauit ordered, his rapier scraping the ground in front of Aziz’s face.

Aziz didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea. Perhaps because he truly couldn’t think of what else to do. He rationalized to himself in some irrational way that if he did this, maybe Staqauit would get bored. Maybe he’d survive.  So he did as Staqauit ordered. He tried to lift the boulder.

He felt his hands bleed as they scraped and tensed to keep the boulder steady on his back. Bent down so low that his knees touched his chest. Pressing hard on the wound.

“At least it’s stopped bleeding,” was the sole hysterical thought in his mind. His lungs felt they were burning and just pounding his chest as if to get out of his body. Blood rushed in his ears and the slow smack of Staqauit’s whip on the floor, keeping time, sounded like gunshots to his ears.

He wasn’t breathing right. He knew that. Aziz felt like he had been running for miles. His throat felt the need for oxygen and his eyes watered. But he managed to get one foot forward, his thoughts running wild.

Where were the others? When was Jordan going to come back? For he knew Jordan would come to him the moment she could as she had since he was 4. What if that ruined the mission? That she failed because he was too weak to save himself?

Then his mind took a turn to what he had been suppressing the moment Staqauit got hold of this throat. What if this was it? What if this was how he was going to die?

His knees buckled at the thought and he fell to the ground, allowing the boulder to drop from his back to feel the sting of the whip. This time he didn’t hold back the scream.

That scream was like a whistle for them as Chimera and Illusion pounced, their punches, scratches and kicks indistinguishable from one another.

And there was more…. he remembered the water boarding vaguely but he was glad he mostly blacked out of that, the boulder and the choking was enough for him.

But when he woke up and saw Lala, all he felt was shame that he had to be rescued. 

Like every fight, he thought of what he should have done after the confrontation was over. When Staqauit was choking him, he should have kicked him back in the stomach. The stomach area was always a quick disable to an opponent. Staqauit would have let him go and then he could have parkored and fought his way out with the weapons that were stationed around the dungeon.

But he hadn’t done that. He had thrashed and took the assault and hadn’t been able to think up anything on the sly like he knew Jay was infamous for.

With that thought, some defeated admittance slithered into his voice. Not that it was much of a defeat. It was barely a competition when Jay was naturally better and Aziz could never match no matter how hard he tried. “People love him, he’s strong and fast.. everyone wants him or to be like him…..I wish I could be like him too.”

He hated how much it was true.

“Why?” Lala scrunched her nose in confusion.

Aziz sighed, wishing his explanation didn’t sound so pathetic, “I’m forgettable in Auradon. I’m the third in line for the throne so I’m not inheriting the kingdom like all the other guys in my class. And I’m not that talkative. Believe me, in Auradon that is not a good thing if you want people to notice you. Or at least not be forgettable, and Jay can...” he trailed off. He didn’t want to get into the time in the dungeon. She had been there, she knew he was weak.

“And how does Jay fit into this?”

“He’s like me, I guess. Only better in everything. Better thief, better at tourney, more witty, better at flirting. I just blend in...I don’t want that anymore it sucks.”

“Blending in is a good thing. It allows you to skulk and learn your enemies’ tactics so you can ambush them.” Lala said.

“Great. But that’s in the wild. I’m not willing to move to the jungle just so my introvertedness can be an asset.”

“Okay maybe the ambush thing isn’t important but it is still applicable. It’s good that you’re not as outgoing like the others. Look at those people bragging and flirting and trying to garner attention onto themselves, they’re annoying. It’s always them, them, flash and boasts. They would never survive in life because they are always thinking of themselves. They don’t observe their surroundings, they miss the details that could help in the future. Like- like? I know-A fool who does not observe will fail. They will fail and try again and fail and try again. But a person who does take in their surroundings will learn the lesson once and remember it.”

“You don’t dominate the conversation but when you do, it is sensible and important. You don’t waste words. Same with your actions. You don’t talk the talk, you let your actions show how you get things done. I wouldn’t trust those extroverted people with my life. They’re too bold and impulsive and think with their fists. I ca-People can respect you. Trust you. You are genuine, and witty because you think so much, you will be successful later on.”

“I guess so.” Aziz smudged the dirt-packed floor with his foot, watching the sight of a small mealworm that had been habitating there, crawl out, “But it sucks. I get being successful later in life but what about now? In Auradon, no one takes a second look at me. You have to be a really sociable or talented person like Jay to get noticed. I can’t do that. I try but I- And, and what about in the dungeon, my observation skills gave me nothing! If I act a little more like Jay maybe I wouldn’t be the weak link needing to be rescued.”  Aziz blurted out.

Lala didn’t speak and Aziz cringed, staring at the ground. But the silence was growing so long he had to look back to gauge her reaction and saw Lala was waiting for him to look at her. 

Then she spoke, “You didn’t escape but you did survive. That takes a special inner strength especially when your enemies wish to demoralize and destroy you. And it is useless to ponder what others would have done when they weren’t been in the situation. You did what you could, and if you are so concerned about your aptitude, I’ll teach you. You have the strength, you need to practice better technique. Stop the self pity it’s a disgusting habit.”

Aziz tried to protest, but felt himself only mouthing the words as a damn nervous blush starting crawling up his neck. He still felt like he should have done better but he appreciated Lala’s words. He knew she held herself and almost everyone else on the standard of their physical skill and made it known when she thought someone was weak. For her to claim that he was strong even after she healed him, rescued him and saw him beaten bloody and battered, it meant something. 

And what she was about to say earlier? That little slip-up. She respected him. He hadn’t thought earning her respect was something he had wanted, but as she said it.. he felt so good that he did.

“As for the others, fuck them.” Lala interrupted, “Isn’t Auradon a place  where you’re not supposed to be shallow? See beyond first impressions and get to know them? If they don’t do that, fuck them. You shouldn’t even be complaining that people don’t notice you because it means to ones who do, actually care. You’re less outgoing than others. It’s not your fault that they don’t try to see beyond.”

Lala was still talking but Aziz stopped listening. What she said, “It’s not your fault” hit him like a sandstorm. The images of his attempts to try to be better. More funny. More entertaining. More talented. More outgoing. Things that people would want to talk to him like they gathered around his father or around Chad and the other royals.

Yet he was outshone by someone better. His constant overthinking working against him as he talked, praying that he didn’t look like he was trying too hard as he was. Praying that he wasn’t going to be forgettable to people. He failed. He wondered what was so wrong with him that made him invisible. He wondered how people like Lonnie and Jordan could insist he was so fun to be around when he couldn’t make his presence known when he was in the room with the likes of Jay.

But it wasn’t entirely his fault. He was born to be more of a listener than a doer. He preferred being one on one with people. He couldn’t change that. But he could accept it. He could accept that he was never going to be the star of the room and that people may not give him a second glance.

If so, then fuck them. Because it was true. If they could write him off as just forgettable, then he didn’t need their attention anyway.

His shoulder moved and he snapped back to realize he had zoned out in front of Lala. He felt a blush crawl up his neck, making him flush more. He hated how obviously red it was against his olive skin. “Sorry I- I was listening. You really.. I realized..I mean. You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Lala. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.” He leaned forward to hug her but held back. Touchy-feely was not the norm on the Isle, but he felt so grateful for her words that it felt wrong just to say thanks. So he settled for leaning close and smiling. He was pretty sure it was the smile of an idiot but he did it anyway. The nice thing was Lala gave a small-closed lip smile in return and roughly booped his nose.

“I know you needed it. Anyone who is considering to act more like Jay needs to be talked off the deep end.”

Feeling a bit more generous now that he was coming around to accepting he didn’t need to be as cool as Jay to be noticed, Aziz snapped back into psychologist mode, trying to see his observances of Jay through a more objective, less jealous lens.

Not that he had much time to observe Jay since he got hypnotized which was surely a traumatic betrayal on its own since it came from his father’s snake staff. Which spoke to how uncaring and domineering Jafar must be as a father if he felt the need to control his son.

“I don’t know. I think Jay is more than the impulsive idiot you take him for. I believe it's just a facade he puts up.” Aziz mused “To annoy people? It works.” Lala rolled her eyes.

“What went down between you that you hate him so much?” Aziz asked.

“I don’t hate him, I dislike him. He’s annoying. He stole my spears for himself, he thinks he’s so great he tries to fight Mabaya on his own and almost gets both of us killed because again, he took my weapons and then broke them! What idiot tries to chuck a spear out a charging elephant? It does nothing. If he had to throw the spear, he should have aimed at a vital joint or his eye at least. I can’t respect such idiocy.” Lala huffed.

“I understand but he was a bit out of his element in the jungle and it is his fall-back to try to boast and impress. Usually people who do that are trying to hide something.” Aziz said. Then he thought of a saying of his mother. It was a bit of what Vks called, sentimental Auradon crap, but he felt it should be said, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”

“Whatever.” Lala yawned.

“What happened to not judging people? Look beyond the surface.” Aziz teased.

“That was for you. I’m a bad person, I don’t need to follow that rule.” Lala sniffed haughtily.

It would have been so easy to take that as another little joke in their back and forth, but his observing skills struck again. She sounded haughty but her eyes were downcast, and considering what she said that she was too like her mother… she felt it was true.

“You’re not exactly like your mother, you know. I don’t think so at least” Aziz said softly in case Lala didn’t want to broach the subject and could pretend to ignore him.

“I know I’m not exactly like her. I’m only as close to her as she allows me to be. She’s always one step ahead.” Lala muttered, not looking at him. “If I was like her she’d have me be the princess of Opar. But I’m not good enough for that. Not like Tarzan’s children.” “I don’t know Tarzan’s children that well but I don’t think Queen La would find them worthy heirs. I never saw Kerchak swing from a tree or pick up a sharp object in my life. And Victoria-”

“No. Not Tarzan and Jane’s children. Tarzan and my mom’s. The ones she’s planning to have in the future. They don’t even exist and I’m not as good as them according to her because I got one stupid scar and I’m claustrophobic.” Lala scowled, smacking the ground in anger of her own weaknesses.

“You seem to be handling your claustrophobia.” Aziz encouraged. 

“As long as I don’t think about it. That’s why I study so hard. It’s because it takes my mind off where I am, not because it requires my intense study. Trust me. But at night…” Lala inhaled deeply and tensed, “I hate this place. I miss the fresh air and space. Every time someone closes the door, I feel like it's going to be lock with this air that-” She inhaled deeply again.

“Let’s go to a window,” Aziz suggested motioning to leave the room. Lala took the offer eagerly and they bounded up the stairs to Lala’s room, the leopard men obediently behind them.

Lala threw open the windows to the balcony and breathed deeply. A blissful smile enveloped her features as her body relaxed. The wind was out today, and unlike Auradon, this wasn’t a refreshing light breeze. On the Isle, when the wind blew, it blew like a gust and Aziz was impressed that Lala stood straight without bending to its battering assult. But it fit her. Lala was the person who could stand strong against natural forces. Her face perfectly serene as the wind whipped her white braid about and ruffled her long sleeves.

Aziz stood next to her, keeping a hand to the side of his face as the gusts constantly pushed his bangs into his eyes and mouth and became a general nuisance. “I don’t think you’re exactly like your mom. Not just because you can’t live to her caliber.  You’re not shallow considering you speak to a guy who hasn’t rung any animal by his neck. Despite your wish for a kingdom, I don’t think, at least I’m guessing, you don’t have a real desire to lord over others like a tyrant.” 

“From what I’ve observed, and I’m a pretty good observer if I say so myself. You’re reserved because you know that’s the way to survive. But I also think it speaks to how genuine you are. You don’t deal with bullshit, if you respect a person you show it, if you don’t, you don’t. A little blunt but honesty is better than fakery. You seem to actually like learning and challenging yourself with the Atlantean magic. You laughed at my jokes which shows you have a brilliant sense of humor... And despite what you say, you did care about your siblings. You can’t live up to her mom and her imaginary children? Then fuck her. You’re pretty formidable by yourself. You’d be successful as a warrior or a priestess or whatever. You’d have awesome adventures no matter what you do because you’re a badass warrior princess.``

Although she wasn’t looking at him, he could tell she was listening. He could see the corner of her mouth twitching up and down, fighting a smile. So he decided to return the favor and nose boop her to get her attention.

She batted his hand away but a small laugh escaped her lips. “Badass warrior princess. Hmm you observed me very well.”

“Eh little observations here and there, some is just gut instinct. Some people may think a person’s reserve is them being stuck up but I get your’s is more than that.” Aziz coughed as a piece of his hair blew into his mouth.

“People may think you’re forgettable, but I understand you’re more of an observer.” Lala pursed her lips, catching her braid as it flew to hit Aziz’s cheek.

Aziz rubbed his cheek, his mother’s saying popping into his head again. He shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious and nervous about repeating the quote. Which was weird because he said it about Jay just a few minutes before. But saying it, to Lala, seemed more..more meaningful somehow.

No, he was overthinking all of this again so Aziz ignored it, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”

Lala smiled at him and there was something.. a something in the air. Energy, a vibe, he wasn’t sure but it made the fact that even though they were in the blustery air, he felt as if he were enclosed in a small world between the two of them.  Time to change the subject then!  “So speaking of observing, I haven’t really had the chance to do it around here much, but isn’t it fascinating to watch the people here?” Aziz asked. People watching was his go to subject for most conversations. Not that many people had much to contribute. People watching was not a thing most people engaged in which he thought was a shame. It was the most fun ever! People  had such weird idiosyncrasies even when they did a normal thing like walking past whether it was an odd head bop or having feet pointed in first position or the like.  Lala shrugged and Aziz nodded understandingly. He knew the topic wouldn’t probably go anywhere but then...“What's people watching?”  “Oh it’s this thing where you just sit and watch random people. You know observe their habits, stuff that they do.” Aziz sighed. It was a lot more interesting action than in explanation.  “Oooh!” Lala nodded understandingly, “Like observing your prey and enemies. I’ve done that lots of times. It’s entertaining.”  Aziz’s eyes widened, “You think it’s fun too!” 

Lala looked at him as if he was crazy for suggesting otherwise, “Yes. It’s a useful skill and people do such weird stuff.” 

“Such weird stuff!” Aziz said at the same time, and then he tried to dial down the enthusiasm in his voice when Lala made the “calm down” sign, snorting at his excitement.  “Remember when we were at Gaston’s bar and that Hun guy was fighting Stanley? I noticed in other fights that he does this thing with his head.. ugh I can’t describe it. But like he’d almost twist his...”  ———————————————————————————————

That had been three days ago and they almost talked for an hour when Kaj II growled his warning that Queen La was arriving and Aziz had to swing off the balcony and climb against the wall to the correct balcony that would lead to Jade’s room. 

Not that he had realized it but in hindsight, that might have been the moment he developed a crush on the warrior princess. Ever since then, he just… he just wanted to be around her a little more compared to the others. He wanted to hear more about her opinions or stories or anything she had to say.

And whenever she smiled at his jokes even if she rolled her eyes because it was corny, he felt like he won a tourney victory or something. And she was so..so graceful. Not cat-like graceful but beautiful, every move she makes was stunning.

Not that he allowed himself to think about it too much. There were more important things at stake like saving the world, and if he thought about how he had a crush on Lala then he’d get self-conscious and nervous and he didn’t want that. Their friendship was just fine for him. He was even teaching her monkey. 

Not that it was any of Jordan’s business.

“It’s not important.” Aziz said.

“It better not be. You can try to deny it but I can see that “Can you feel the love tonight” nonsense from a mile away. Why don’t you just forget crushing on mermaids and.. and maybe a nice girl from Agrabah. Or a nice boy. You had such a good time with Mena, remember.” 

“Mena was...Honestly Mena was the only guy I.. I can’t. I keep comparing other men to him which is— Can we not talk about him?” Aziz growled, partly from the memory of his sole boyfriend who had used him for the status of dating a prince and had been cheated on him the whole time, and partly because Jordan was bringing him up even though she knew it was a touchy subject. 

“I know he didn’t work out but it’s like you told me, you can’t give up on the whole male population because of one cheating boyfriend. Cheating would be nothing compared to this. This crush is a mistake.” Jordan huffed.

“Why is it a mistake exactly?” Aziz raised an eyebrow at Jordan’s judgemental attitude. Usually she was all for Aziz meeting someone and start planning their dates even though her tastes were a bit extravagant like setting off fireworks when he leaned in for a kiss.  

“I get the appeal, really. She was a mysterious stranger swinging on a vine. But she’s the same stranger who broke Calix’s arm! He’s lucky that he has magic on his side and could heal the arm that she broke. If he was mortal, he’d be doomed. There’s no hospitals here, we’d have to cut it off.”

“That’s not how unattended broken arms work, Jordan.” Aziz rubbed his temples at her wildly dramatic reasons why having a crush on Lala would be bad, “It doesn’t matter, I’m not going to do anything when there are more important things at stake.”

“I know. I’m just saying you shouldn’t even pursue this when we get back to Auradon. Think about, Aziz. Really think about it. Imagine what would happen if you even got together? She’s the daughter of Queen La. Allah knows that if she got jealous, she’d murder the other person and kill you for looking a for wandering eyes.” Jordan said.

“Then I guess you both have something in common.” Aziz said sarcastically, “Like when you sent your ex a box of scorpions when you found him cheating on you.”

“That’s completely different! He deserved it! You don’t deserve to feel pain. I’m telling you it’s not good to act on love at first sight.”

“Love at first sight?” Aziz scoffed. Did she not even know him? They always joked about people who thought they fell in love at first sight. 

Sure, for some it was true. Auradon was practically built on it but more often than not it could lead to a very difficult marriage. That’s why Snow White took that job as a reporter so she wouldn’t be around King Florian so much.

Jordan should know him better, he may get a crush at first glance, but he wouldn’t act on it unless he was sure there was more.

“I’m not in love with her. I’m not doing anything with her.”

“You’re hanging out with her!” Jordan cried.

“I’m also hanging out with Jade. With your logic, I could be crushing on her. She’s clever, she’s daring, we have things in common, we can do parkour together. Plus she’s the daughter of one of our families’ enemies. Star crossed lovers and all that. It’s a perfect fairytale romance.” Aziz breathlessly mocked.

“Jade is not… she wouldn’t use you like Lala.”

“She’s a Vk, who says Jade wouldn’t.” Aziz pointed out.

“Jade’s like you and me.” Jordan defended lamely.

“How? What? Because she’s descended from Agrabahians?” Aziz cried. He knew she could be judgemental and superficial but really? This?

“No. I mean technically yeah but no. She and Jay. She cares about him. They’re like us.” Jordan said meaningfully, grasping his hands and looking lovingly in his eyes in a way that made Aziz feel small and childish.

He hated it when she got like this. Acting like she was so much more worldly and knowing because she was a genie. She had a duty to protect him, the poor sheltered mortal prince who didn’t know any better or understand the morally grey areas of life. He survived torture in the damn dungeon!

Which now that he thought about it, beyond the hug Jordan hadn’t asked him a single thing about the incident. It seemed to have completely slipped her mind. Yeah, she cared about his safety. But for all the wrong reasons.  

“So? If that was true then why don’t you trust Jay if his bond with Jade is so much like our bond.” Aziz asked, pointing out the hole in her little argument.

“Well um I, Jay’s Jay’s complicated and I mean I don’t distrust him, it’s just after he said that thing about me giving..”

The epiphany dawned on Aziz before Jordan finished her sentence. How could he not have realized it before? It was all Jordan ever worried about.

“It’s because Jade hasn’t asked you for wishes and Lala has. That’s it.”

“She probably figured out that I’d back out of my promise so she’s trying to use you so you could convince me to give her wishes!” Jordan cried like a detective solving a case with her convoluted logic.

“And you think she’s going to seduce me to do that? Do you have so little trust in me?” Aziz used the calm steely tone that he knew would annoy her most. Not only did she act like he was a sheltered, naive mortal but a weak willed one too.

“NO no I do trust you! I know you would never intentionally do that to me. But I don’t want you to get hurt just because she’s manipulating you to get to me!” Jordan screamed, stamping her foot childishly that he was not giving into her.

“How self-absorbed can you get? Jordan, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your powers. Is it such a crazy thought that she might actually fall for me?” Aziz matched his volume to hers.

“Why wouldn’t she want me? I have phenomenal cosmic power and convenience for everyone. A lamp that forces me to obey their desires. You can’t offer her that. You’re just..you.”

Aziz stared at her, the sentence hitting him like a gut punch. He couldn’t believe Jordan of all people was saying this to him. She was the one who always helped him out on dates and assured him that anyone would fall in love with him after

….Maybe all that helping out wasn’t just from the goodness of her heart? It was because she secretly thought he couldn't get a girl on his own. Why would he with his so few talents? He wasn’t debenoir or charming enough like Jay. He wasn’t going to inherit the throne like other princes. What did he have to offer that the other boys at Auradon Prep couldn’t offer or even top? All he had was a genie friend who’d make “a whole new world”  dates.

Moreover, it hurt. His best friend in the world also thought that he wasn’t good enough on his own. She thought he needed her to survive through life and love and all those trials.

Now he was glad he told Lala how he felt ignored. Clearly his so-called “best friend/wingwoman/sister” was too oblivious and selfish to comfort him. Not even that. She secretly shared everyone else’s opinion that he was forgettable!

“Me? What does that-“ Aziz snarled.

“I-I just don’t want you to spend so much time with her.” Jordan seemed to sense his anger and began backtracking, “You know I don’t have a lot of people to hang out with. So many people just want me for my wishes. You-you don’t want to use me. You’re my best friend. That’s why I need you. After everything I’ve done for you, all I’m asking is for you to be my friend.” Aziz heard her but didn't listen, her hurtful words still ringing in his ears. Besides that was completely unbelievable. She was afraid of losing him? That was a ridiculous idea and she knew that. If she was going to lie to his face, she could try to make it believable! 

And what? It wasn’t like he owed her for everything she had done for him. That wasn’t how friendship worked! He didn’t ask her to do things and join adventures. She did it herself because she was his friend. 

Or he had thought it was because they were sibling/friends. Apparently it was because she believed he needed her. 

“You need me around forever to sooth your constant paranoid insecurity. I get it.” Aziz rolled his eyes sarcastically. 

“It’s not a paranoid insecurity. It’s a fact.” Jordan claimed.

“Jordan, have you ever thought, maybe the reason people will only look at you for your wishes is because your general personality is unbearable to deal with. That’s why no one wants to be your friend. There’s nothing likable to be friends with but thank Allah, at least if they hang around long enough they’ll get wishes out of you.” Aziz snapped.

Jordan froze, clearly hurt by the sound of the crack in her voice, “Do you feel that way too?”

Aziz didn’t give himself time to think. She didn’t deserve any amount of comfort from him after what she just said. She didn’t need to act like she knew everything about life and treat him like an incapable, forgettable mortal. That was what he was to her, a mortal. And he knew from all their talks together just how little she respected mortals. And apparently he was no exception. 

“Yes, sometimes I do.”

For a brief eerie moment, the wind was sucked out of the room and silence reigned. Oppressive, weighty silence that he could literally feel pressing against his chest and head and the rest of his body. He began to wonder if he should try to escape, that Jordan was about to do something they’d both regret.

“GET OUT!!” Jordan screamed.

“I can’t get out. You control your lamp.” Aziz hissed through his teeth to keep from yelling again. 

“Fuck you.” The sight of Jordan giving him the finger was his last vision before pink smoke and sand fogged up his view and he rudely fell to the floor.

He glared at the lamp, imagining its arrogant, selfish, all knowing, cosmic occupant pacing the floor, creating a mini sand storm in her anger. Fine.

“Fuck you too.”

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

After the Fall Ch.14 Reflections

LoganLight, AO3

Notes:

Trigger Warning: Panic Attack.

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

Alya was confused.

She didn't like being confused. Even if the source of her confusion was making her other friends happy. Things should make sense when you put them together. That's not to say she didn't see the pattern.

Nino started talking to her about his music again. And more than that, actually sharing it with her. Letting her listen to unfinished mixes and accepting her input.

Marinette was having bursts of inspiration Alya hadn't seen in months. And she wasn't ripping out the Chat Noir inspired designs from her sketchbook like she used to, either.

Alya knew exactly who was responsible for these positive changes: Adrien Agreste!

. . . Okay, so it was probably too convenient for Adrien to be responsible for everything. But he was definitely a major factor!

Nino was spending more time with Adrien (and Kagami). Alya was happy Nino wasn't coming to her about Adrien being reserved around him anymore . . . Although, it was a bit weird that Nino wasn't being as forthcoming about his best friend as he used to be.

Marinette had the opposite reaction, her girl had so many thoughts they all came out in a jumble. They had talked late into the night about that first conversation after half a year of stuttering and single syllable answers. A conversation Adrien had started.

Maybe she was reading too much into this. It was normal to be happy when your friend starts talking to you again . . . But she needed to distract herself from Chat Noir.

Ladybug probably regrets telling me about that.

Alya was in the unenviable position of wanting to respect Ladybug's privacy and really, really wanting to know what happened to Chat Noir. Even if she'd only asked a handful of times her questions upset Ladybug. And that just wouldn't do.

So, without the boys around Rena Rouge had apologized for her behavior. That wasn't something she wanted to repeat anytime soon. Ladybug had enough to deal with as it was.

Still. Sometimes Ladybug acted . . . un-Ladybug-like. The guys wouldn't say anything so that left Rena Rouge to tactfully suggest maybe not putting their heavy hitter in the back. Alya understood why; Ladybug already lost one Black Cat, she wasn't about to lose another one.

Alya put those thoughts into the back of her mind to better focus on the blond enigma in front of her.

Adrien went from being Chloe's friend to her best friend's crush to her boyfriend's best friend. Throughout that first year Alya had spent precious little time actually being Adrien's friend. Instead focusing on Marinette's elaborate . . . she didn't want to say 'schemes'.

Alya hadn't noticed until Marinette's plans went from trying to gain Adrien's affection to trying to help Adrien open up.

And I thought her romance-oriented plans were out there.

. . . Alya really shouldn't be doing this . . . But she wanted to help. She wanted to know. And she wasn't the only one; the whole class wanted to know too.

Good thing Alix is here.

That girl made sure everyone had their head on straight. Especially Kim. Alix was good at talking Marinette out of some . . . questionable ideas. And keeping the art room from bugging Rose about her bandmate too much.

Or she used to. Everyone seemed to have accepted that whatever-it-is would remain a mystery. Adrien was smiling after all. Playing video games with Max, taking part in Kim's silly challenges, giving Nathaniel and Marc constructive criticism (not sure how that happened) on their comics, and basically being more involved with his friends than ever.

Maybe she should just let this go? Adrien wasn't the only one that ever died in an akuma attack or the only one to take it this hard. Alya shuddered as she remembered Syren.

"Trixx, what do you think?"

"I think you've been staring at a guy who isn't your boyfriend longer than socially acceptable," Trixx replied from his hiding place in her hair.

Alya blushed. "I have not!"

Some of the students in the courtyard turned to give her funny looks. Thankfully Adrien and Kagami were too far away to hear. Alya held her phone a bit higher, pretending to speak into it. No, it wasn't recording. Yet.

"Mm, you kind of have though. It's starting to reach Marinette levels," Trixx pointed out.

"I'm nowhere near Marinette levels!" Alya whisper-shouted.

"True. She never took pictures."

Alya groaned. Or maybe it was a growl.

"Didn't Nino make it abundantly clear that Adrien doesn't want to tell anyone else whatever-it-is?" Trixx reminded her.

"According to the Bro Code it is totally prohibited for me to reveal confidential info without the express permission of said bro . . . Sorry, dude."

". . . I wanna be mad at him."

"For being as good a friend to Adrien as you are to Marinette?"

"Majestia help me. It sounds so terrible when you put it like that."

Trixx patted her head. "You're a good Fox. And part of being a good Fox is knowing when to keep a secret."

"Even though I don't actually know it?"

"Especially then."

Alya lowered her phone. "So . . . No more snooping around Adrien?"

"What're you asking me for?"

"Right," Alya stood straighter and repeated herself with more conviction. "Right! Adrien is my friend who greatly values his privacy and I should respect-"

"M. DUPAIN! W-w-what are you doing here!?"

Alya looked at Adrien again and standing beside him was indeed Tom Dupain. How had she missed someone so tall? Alya walked toward them.

"-seen Marinette?" Tom Dupain asked.

"N-n-no." Adrien took a step back. "She m-might be in the art room."

Kagami grasped one of his hands tightly and stepped forward. "I'm sure Marinette just forgot to turn her phone back on . . . M. Damocles! M. Dupain is looking for Marinette."

Adrien quickly backed away, removing his hand from Kagami's who followed a step behind. Kagami positioned herself between Tom Dupain and Adrien.

"-really come to the office first." M. Damocles chastised.

"Oh, yes, of course! It's just . . . where is that again?"

Alya passed the two adults who didn't notice Adrien curling in on himself.

"It wasn't him . . . It wasn't him . . . It wasn't him . . . It wasn't him!"

"What- What's going on?" she asked Kagami.

Kagami ignored her and reached toward Adrien, who was pressing himself against the wall. "Adrien-"

"Don't. Touch. Me."

Kagami snatched her hand back. Adrien took deep breaths. Alya restrained herself from asking more questions.

Nino zoomed past her. "Adrien! Dude, what-"

Kagami jerked him to a stop.

"Hey!"

"He said no touching," Kagami explained.

"Oh . . ." Nino glanced from Adrien to their surroundings, his frown deepened.

Alya followed his gaze and realized they were attracting attention.

Nino gave Kagami a you-know-what-to-do look. She nodded and turned to glare at the gawkers; suddenly everyone was very interested in something else.

"Hey, bro? You wanna, maybe, go somewhere less . . . public?"

". . . Don't talk to me like that."

". . . You're totally causing a scene and I know you hate that. So get your butt moving, dude!"

Adrien's lips twitched. "Okay." He wouldn't meet anyone's eyes as he made his way to the boy's restroom.

"Nino!" This time Alya reached out to stop him. "Wait. What . . . What triggered him?"

Nino glanced between Alya's expectant face and Adrien's retreating back. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Ah, yeah. Look, dude, Adrien needs me now but, uh . . . Kagami! You explain!"

Alya turned to see Kagami's look of surprise and then turned back just in time to see her boyfriend disappear into the boy's room.

Why, that little-

"Coward!" Kagami exclaimed.

I'm the only one allowed to insult my boyfriend!

Alya mentally shook the automatic thought away. "So, how 'bout that explanation?"

"My honor prevents me from divulging anything without Adrien's consent," Kagami replied neutrally.

That sounded suspiciously similar to what Nino had told her . . . Although it wasn't any different from what Kagami had said before. The idea that the three of them had planned specifically for her left Alya feeling  . . . conflicted.

"All I want is to know what happened so I can help! Then Adrien won't have to deal with . . . This!" Alya gestured vaguely around them.

Kagami's eyes softened. "Today was a special circumstance. I doubt he's encountered this trigger at all since the incident."

Alya tried not to feel annoyed at the deflection. "This trigger? What was different today?"

Kagami just raised an eyebrow.

"Adrien, you, no Nino, no Marinette, M. Dupain . . ." Alya's eyes widened. "Weredad!"

"Keep your voice down!"

"Of course! The timing matches up! That's why he . . . Oh."

"It took you this long to piece that together?"

"I was a bit distracted at finding out one of my friends died! Not turned into a statue or encased in magical ice or . . . Or anything else! Died."

Kagami's look shifted. "Is this the first time it's happened to someone close to you?"

"No, but . . . It's been a while."

"I see." Kagami must've seen that Alya didn't want to talk about that with her. "Have you told Marinette?"

"My girl has enough to deal with. I can't just go 'Hey, Marinette! Adrien died half a year ago and didn't tell anyone because reasons!' "

"Perhaps you should say that louder so everyone can hear," Kagami said sarcastically.

Alya ignored this and barreled on with her rant. "No way! Not doing that! Especially with Weredad involved. She has this weird guilt about that villain! Knowing Adrien got caught up in it will only make her feel worse!"

"And how would Adrien feel if I betrayed his trust by telling you something he doesn't want me to?"

. . . Well, drat.

"That's a fair point but I already figured out Weredad. Isn't there anything you can tell me about what happened?"

"Adrien didn't offer specifics and I didn't ask."

Alya sighed in defeat. Kagami hadn't budged since this whole affair started. At this point Alya was just questioning Kagami out of habit.

"At least I know why Adrien was avoiding my girl now."

"Right. That's why he did that."

". . . Do you think Nino needs help?"

"Boy's bathroom. And no, he's much better at getting Adrien to 'chill' than I am."

"You three seem close."

"Hasn't Nino provided exposition?"

"My boyfriend is suspiciously unforthcoming"

Kagami smiled. "He really is terrible at keeping secrets."

"Oh, you have no idea."

Kagami gave her a thoughtful look. "How is Marinette?"

"Well, now that 'Sunshine' is talking to her again Marinette's obs- concern is at an all time low. Thanks for that."

Kagami shook her head. "I should be thanking you. I don't think Adrien would have opened up to Nino when he did if you hadn't talked to him. You're a good friend."

Gratitude swelled in Alya's chest at the words.

"He's had fewer off day's with Nino around," Kagami continued. "Today notwithstanding."

"Do you think they'll stay in there all day?" Alya remembered Adrien's previous episodes.

"Adrien's stronger than you think," Kagami stated with conviction.

As if to prove her point that's when the boys emerged. Nino looked at the girls nervously. Adrien seemed embarrassed but held his head up.

Kagami stepped toward them and raised an eyebrow "Well?"

Adrien took a deep breath and said, "I need to see M. Dupain again."

"What!?" Alya exclaimed.

Kagami's other eyebrow rose to meet the first then she narrowed her eyes accusingly at Nino.

"Dude, it's not my fault! I tried to talk him out of it! Bro's seriously determined."

Kagami looked at Adrien. "You shouldn't push yourself before you're ready. Healing takes time."

"I've had time. Now I need to face my demons." Adrien squared his shoulders.

"That's great and all," Alya said. "But you faced him ten minutes ago. Didn't turn out so great."

"Understatement," Nino agreed.

Adrien gave a questioning look to Kagami.

"She knows about Weredad," Kagami explained.

"Ah." Adrien pushed his surprise aside and looked at them, unwavering. "He took me by surprise. I can do this! . . . If you help me."

Well . . . That's just cheating.

Kagami stared at him for a moment. Apparently satisfied with what she saw Kagami nodded. "Alright."

"What!?" Nino cried out, full of concern. "But . . . Dude . . ."

"He says he can do it," Kagami said, giving Nino a meaningful look.

Nino glanced between Adrien and Kagami, his worried eyes landed on Alya.

"I'm in," Alya said.

Adrien gave her a grateful smile.

Nino slumped in resignation but quickly straitened and set his cap. "Right dudes! If we're gonna do this someone needs to look out for Marinette and Chloe."

Alya understood perfectly. Didn't want Marinette seeing Adrien react badly to her dad. And as for Chloe . . .

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

"Of course Queen Bee is the best superhero!" Chloe exclaimed. "But at least Panthera is much better than that mangy alley cat who turned tail and ran!"

The courtyard was suddenly very quiet except for Marinette's growling beside Alya. Nino and Kagami stood next to a stiff Adrien, shooting daggers at Chloe.

"What?" Chloe asked disdainfully. "Anyone with eyes can see it. Ladybug herself told me Chat Noir just up and left! Right?"

Sabrina nodded vigorously.

Alya wasn't sure who was angrier: her or Nino. That was not what Ladybug told them! Alya opened her mouth to launch verbal barbs at Chloe, but her words were lost in the cacophony of voices.

"How dare you!?"

"Like you'd know a good superhero-"

"Chloe Bourgeois!"

"-if he fell on your head!"

"Chat Noir was an awesome hero!"

"Ladybug would be ashamed of-"

"Oh, please!'" Chloe cut them off . "Like you haven't been thinking the same thing! We're all better off without that-"

"Shut. Up."

Everyone stared at Adrien in varying degrees of shock. He was trembling, eyes down and fists clenched.

"A-all you do is i-insult everyone around you. Criticizing e-every flaw l-like you don't have any." Adrien looked up to glare at Chloe who stood frozen. "That- That's not okay! J-just because you're in pain doesn't give you the right to m-make everyone else as miserable as you!"

Adrien bolted. Chloe lurched after him. "Adrien, wait!"

She didn't get far as Nino blocked her path. "No, you don't, dude!"

"Outta my way you-"

Kagami walked up to Nino's side "No."

Fluttering black wings appeared in the corner of Alya's eye. She whipped her head toward it so fast pain flared in her neck . . . But it was only a white butterfly.

Unease filled Alya as she gazed around at her agitated classmates. Alix and Kim glared angrily at Chloe. The blond herself demanded to see Adrien, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. Rose and Juleka held each other while Luka stood protectively near them. Max was attempting to calm a confused Markov. It was a powder keg.

Alya turned to a troubled Marinette who gazed in the direction Adrien fled. "Girl, you gotta do something."

Marinette snapped out of her thoughts. "M-me?"

"Yes, you!" Alya took in everyone around them with her hands. "This is one black butterfly short of an akuma attack."

"Yeah, but . . ."

"They'll listen to you, Marinette."

Determination filled Marinette"s eyes as she nodded. "Make sure Adrien doesn't get akumatized."

"You got it, girl."

As Marinette went to pacify a former Bee, a Turtle, and a potential Dragon, Alya searched for Adrien. He wasn't hard to find.

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

Notes:

Alya is being introspective (and a bit hard on herself) due to circumstances. Trixx can totally hide in her hair and no one can convince me otherwise! Trixx is either a more nuanced Plagg or a more mischievous Tikki: I can't decide which.

The second part is a flashback in case that wasn't clear.

Chloe is the most vocal critic of Chat Noir. If she was less clingy or if Adrien was more vulnerable I believe he'd take it MUCH harder than he does in canon. Though he might be repressing that like he does everything else. Also, Adrien is her main motivator when it comes to improving herself. Take him away and she regresses easily.

As for Alya's observations in the beginning: All of her friends are under new and stressful conditions that have only really been normalizing recently. Her boyfriend and best friend are creative types and stress is very good at giving you a creative block.

(Also, I’m taking liberties with panic attacks because I didn’t research them at all when I wrote this. Sorry, about that.)

Ch.1  Ch.2  Ch.3   Ch.4  Ch.5  Ch.6  Ch.7  Ch.8  Ch.9  Ch.10  Ch.11  Ch.12  Ch.13     Ch.15  Ch.16  Ch.17  Ch.18  Ch.19  Ch.20  Ch.21  Ch.22

[besidemethewholedamntime]

and i will always love you - chapter four

Fic Summary:

“He feels sorry for her. It’s hard not to. Except it doesn’t change the fact that she’s still the child of an eminent politician, using her wealth and status to arm herself in ways that others in her situation couldn’t. Fitz has protected all kinds of people who’ve done the same thing, and every last one has been a complete and utter wanker.”

When an accidental discovery causes nationwide outrage at Dr. Jemma Simmons, Protection Officer Leopold Fitz is the one called upon to be her bodyguard. It starts off as one thing and ends quite another. A bodyguard au.

Chapter Summary:

A long dark night that ends with a beautiful sunrise.

Fitz struggles with his ever-growing feelings, a little bit more of the past is revealed, and unplanned co-habitation goes a step further.

{Read Chapter 4 Here}

{Read from the beginning here}

or read ch 4 below!

With HQ satisfied that the immediate threat is gone now that Jemma’s moved into a hotel, a suggestion is made that Fitz should take his days off. A suggestion that comes in the form of narrowed eyes, angry eyebrows, and the introduction of Officer Davis.

With no choice otherwise, and secure in the knowledge that his superior wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Jemma while he wasn’t there, Fitz makes a feeble effort to go back to his life pre-Jemma Simmons. It includes waking up in the afternoon, having leftover pizza for breakfast and playing video games with Hunter until he either leaves for work or for Bobbi, and then Fitz goes back to sleep.

Or that’s the way it used to be, back when life was much simpler. Now there are all these things in his head, things that one might call feelings. Feelings that are most definitely about Jemma.

The war between his ever -growing feelings for Jemma and for the desire to protect her and do his job as well as he can rages in his already suffering head. It consumes him. He can’t sleep at night for thinking of all the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘maybes’. The days off aren’t enjoyable anymore, they’re just monotonous. There’s nothing to distract him. Even Hunter’s not here; he’s made up with Bobbi and they’ve been playing catch up for those two days they weren’t talking ever since.

It’s a shame, really, because his best-friend being so in love makes Fitz want that, too, except he only wants it with somebody he cannot have. Nobody else he’s ever met has ever made him feel this way before. And he enjoys the daydreams and follows them as far as he dares, but it’s such a hard crash-land back into the real world when it’s all over.

Just over three years ago Fitz was in a car accident. A terrible, terrible car accident that robbed oxygen from his brain which, in turn, robbed him of the ability to do a lot of things he used to be quite good at. For months he could only speak in fragments of sentences, couldn’t draw a straight line and barely left his flat. He lost his job, his self esteem and really the only person he would speak to was Hunter.

He used to be an engineer and he used to draw schematics on napkins and post-it notes going spare. Now he’s a protection officer, a job that he got and kept because of Hunter. He used to stay up until the wee hours in the morning designing by desk lamp light. Now he gets headaches so badly he sees stars.

The point is that it’s been a long time since he’s had something worth actually living his life for. Or someone. And Jemma Simmons seems like someone worth living for. The problem is that there’s nothing that can be done about it, because he’s her protection officer and because she’s also someone worth dying for.

This isn’t as elegant as they make it out to be in all the books and all the movies. Love isn’t fulfilling and sustaining and joyous. Love, it seems, just sucks.

-x-

His jumbled-up thoughts do not leave him, and his brain feels like scrambled egg when he’s eventually allowed back to work. Nothing seems to help him and the constant headache behind his eyes makes him snap at everyone he comes across. He even snaps at Jemma, and while she says nothing, her reproachful look makes him wade further into his deep pit of misery to wallow.

It only gets worse at the end of the day. They pack up their things in silence, only communicating with a nod when they’re ready to leave. He feels Jemma’s questioning gaze on him on the drive back to the hotel, the searing heat of it burning his face. He manages to resist any compulsion to talk, and by the time they’re settled in their room they’ve barely spoken ten words to each other all day.

The room has a single bed and a double, and Jemma perches on the end of the double, a concerned look on her face as she follows his admittedly erratic movements about the room.

“Fitz,” she sighs eventually. “What is wrong with you?”

He ignores her, unable to answer, unwilling to. “We’ve only got the one room tonight, right?”

“Yes. We had to give up the other room. The hotel is fully booked for a conference for the next few days. This is the last room available.” She gives him a weak smile. “Lucky us.”

The hotel is a cheap one that people pay for because they need someplace to sleep or somewhere to hide scientists that are receiving death threats. It wouldn’t be his first choice for anything really, but his first flat with Hunter was worse so he summons his inner twenty-year old and resists screwing up his face in distaste. If he’s feeling like this, he can’t imagine how Jemma must be feeling.

Then he realisation hits him that he’s now facing a problem that Davis most certainly didn’t. He and Jemma are sleeping in the same room, in beds so close that someone could reach out and touch the other if they so desired. The cosmos must be well and truly against him.

“What bed are you wanting?” He asks, before realising that there are toiletries on the bedside table and a pair of pyjamas folded neatly on the pillow of the double bed.

“Oh, well I’ve been sleeping in this one,” Jemma looks down to where she’s perched, “but we can switch if you like? I don’t mind.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He waves away her offer. “You’ve already been sleeping there; it would be a bit cruel of me to make you change.”

“Yes, how perfectly awful of you,” she tries, but it sounds forced and neither of them really have the energy to pretend otherwise.

She’s sitting at the edge of the bed and he’s standing by the window and they have not a thing to day to each other. It’s as if the past few days he’s been away has turned them into perfect strangers. Even when she detested his presence they still had more to talk about. Fitz knows it’s his fault, knows that he’s driving this wedge between them. He hates it, he honestly does, but maybe this is the way it must be.

“I’m going to go get us some dinner,” he announces, needing to be free of this room, even if it’s just walking downstairs. “Is there anything you really fancy?”

Jemma shakes her head. “You know what I like.”

He nods and turns around but it’s too late - he’s already caught sight of her face and the wounded confusion in her eyes.

-x-

The situation doesn’t improve after dinner and they spend the hours before bed sitting on their respective beds doing their respective thing with the crappy hotel TV playing a Channel 5 horror movie in the background. It’s remarkably similar to the first night Fitz spent at Jemma’s house, and the parallel does not escape him. Last time they were brought closer together, but he has a feeling that this night might drive them irrevocably apart.

It reaches the hour where it’s acceptable to sleep and Fitz, who has been waiting for the oblivion all day, snuggles deeply underneath the thin duvet and waits for the pull of his eyelids. He waits and waits but the oblivion never comes. His irregular breathing echoes loudly throughout the dark room and keeps him awake, or at least that’s what he tells himself. It’s probably more something to do with the confusion in his head, all of the questions that keep flying about, the inability to tame his mind and thoughts into something manageable.

He listens for Jemma’s breathing, hoping that the regular inhales and exhales will soothe his jumbled brain and lull him to sleep. It’s a few seconds until he realises that hers isn’t regular at all. It’s out of place, like his; quickening and then slowing in the dark. He frowns.

“Jemma?” He whispers, just in case he’s wrong. “Are you awake?”

There’s a few seconds where his only reply is breathing and he wonders if he got it wrong, until she whispers back, “Yes. I can’t sleep. Why are you still awake?”

It’s not as if he can give her the real reason and no longer whispering but in a hushed voice he says, “Yeah, I can’t sleep either.”

“You’ve not been right all day, Fitz,” she tells him, and he feels the guilt swallow him head to toe. When he says nothing she gently sighs. “I want you to know that you can talk to me, you know. I want to help you with whatever is bothering you if I can.”

Oh if only she knew… Fitz is glad the room is pitch black so that his rapidly reddening face isn’t visible to give him away.

“It’s just… it’s nothing important. Not really, anyway. I just need to sort it out myself.”

“Okay,” she sounds unsure but resigned to the fact that she won’t be getting the full answer from him tonight. “But if you ever need to talk, I am here.”

“I know,” he says, “and thanks.” It’s a funny thing but he really does know, and it feels like he could tell her more than he could tell anyone else. But he has to be careful. This dark room feels so safe, invincible. This moment they’re living in a microcosm, a taste of what it could be but can’t ever be. It will kill him, afterwards, and yet he doesn’t want it to pass.

“So,” she says lightly. He deliberately keeps his eyes on the ceiling and doesn’t look across to his left, but he imagines her eyes shining brightly. “Since we’re both awake, what should we do?”

“Pft, I don’t know. Lie awake and watch the sunrise?”

“I think that might be a while away yet.”

It’s so dark that he can’t see his own hand in front of his face. Not even a streetlight shines outside the window and he concedes that the sunrise is, probably, some time off.

It’s quiet after that, the only sound their synchronised breathing echoing throughout the room. Fitz is wide awake now, unable and almost unwilling to attempt sleeping. There’s an electricity in the air, like the way it is before a storm. Something is coming, he’s just not quite sure what it might be.

“I’m sorry you’re spending the night here with me,” Jemma says at last. “In a questionably clean bed in a questionable hotel. All this time you’re spending with me, I hate to think I’m keeping you from somebody more important.”

And it’s on the tip of his tongue to say there’s nobody more important than you but of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know where the desire came from. Instead he manages to stutter out, “No,” he says quietly, feeling surprisingly at ease with the question. “There’s nobody at home except Hunter, who likes to think of himself as more important than he is.”

“That’s exactly who I meant,” Jemma laughs. “Hunter must not be happy that I’m always stealing your time.”

Hunter has surprisingly warmed up about the idea of Jemma, especially since she stayed with them and he discovered Fitz’s feelings about her. He even has a badly handwritten ‘plan’ of how to make it work between them. Perhaps a bit misguided at times, but he’s the best friend that Fitz could ever have. He owes him a lot.

“He’s fine, trust me. He’s got Bobbi.”

“It sounds like a fascinating love story.”

Fitz scoffs even though he doesn’t mean to. “Fascinating is definitely the word for it. This job was how he met Bobbi.”

“Really?”

“Yup. He used to do this and she used to be Secret Service. They met, there was some kind of shotgun wedding, she came to live here, they got divorced, she went back to America, then she came back and they decided to try again. Hunter quit this job, Bobbi quit hers and this is the way it’s been for the past year and a bit.”

“Oh wow,” Jemma breathes. He thinks he can hear her smile. “Quite the story. Do you think they’ll last?”

“Yeah,” Fitz hears himself saying, even though he would always say he thought the opposite. “I think they will. At the end of the day, they’re never gonna love anybody else the way they love each other.”

“Aw, Fitz!” Jemma gushes, and he feels himself rolling his eyes. He might have known she would like their story. “How sweet of you. I wouldn’t have thought you capable.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans. “Hilarious.” Then, being brave: “What about you? Anybody important at home?”

“You probably already know the answer,” she says pointedly. “But no, there isn’t.”

The bravado hasn’t deserted him this time. “How come?”

She sighs wearily and he knows it’s not from the late hour. “I don’t know, really. I could blame it on work, but truly I think there’s just nobody I’ve ever clicked with.”

And he must be feeling supremely brave because he asks, “Nobody at all?”

“Well there was Milton, but he suffered from a brussel-sprout-shaped head and the inability to have a single original thought.”

Fitz has read all about Milton and had thought his head had resembled more of a cabbage but each to their own. He hadn’t seemed like someone Jemma would have dated anyway. A nice guy from all accounts, but dull. He has a job in insurance now. Fitz decides not to divulge this information.

“I love my job,” Jemma admits quietly, as though it’s something shameful. “And I’ve always had trouble making it my second priority. At the end of the day people always let you down but science never has.”

“And you still believe that?” He asks. “Even now?”

“Even now.” He imagines her chin sticking out obstinately. In all this time they still haven’t looked at each other. “It’s not the fault of science that people can’t see its potential. Science just is. Facts are facts. It’s the way people misinterpret them and misuse them that are causing this whole bloody mess.”

In this job he has learned that people are disappointingly just people. They aren’t good and they aren’t bad, they just are, and it can sometimes be too much to expect them to have a higher thought process. It’s frustrating to learn, and maddening to find out that there’s nothing that can be done about it.

“People just judge you,” she continues. “They just take one look at who you are and what you do and listen to absolutely nothing that comes out your mouth.”

He feels his cheeks begin to burn, for in the beginning he did exactly that. In this moment where they are both baring their souls it seems like the perfect opportunity to atone for it.

“I judged you,” he admits quietly. “And I’m sorry. I mean you don’t know that I did that, but I did and I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry about it.”

He awaits the harsh tone but it never comes. Instead he hears her smile, and with it imagines the sparkle in her eyes. “I kind of thought you might have, but it’s alright, Fitz. You had every right. My father did abuse his position to get you as my protection officer.”

“I’m sure he was just worried about you,” he offers. “I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing in his position for my kid.”

She laughs but it’s not the harsh laugh he was expecting. It sounds decidedly sad. “He’s embarrassed by me. My whole life he has warned us, the whole family, not to draw any attention to ourselves, to stay in the shadows, and now with the leak and the news I’ve just done exactly the opposite.”

“Jemma…” he breathes, unable to bear the sound of unshed tears in her voice. “Shadows aren’t meant for everybody. He must get that.”

“You don’t know him like I do, Fitz. He hates things like this. His name, our name, being dragged through the mud. He’s ashamed of me; he wants to hush this all up and make it go away.”

“This isn’t your fault,” he reiterates, needing her to know this, to understand. “You made a good discovery that wasn’t ready to be made public. The weight of that doesn’t fall on your shoulders.”

“It does,” she whispers, and he thinks that this part might not be for him.

It goes quiet again, and he wants to claw back that former closeness, that moment that’s just slipped away. Risking it all, he turns on his side to face her, only able to make out her silhouette in the dark.

“You deserve to be happy, Jemma, and this job isn’t the only thing that’s out there. Today it might be your whole life, but tomorrow is always coming and there’s always something else. Trust me,” he says sincerely, “I would know.”

He sees her turn to face him, feels her hand stretching across the chasm between the beds. His finds hers immediately.

“I feel bad that you’re always making me feel better about things. But thank you, Fitz. Truly.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” he says, squeezing her hand once before letting go.

They still can’t sleep and pass the remaining hours talking about everything that they haven’t before. Fitz confessed about his own father: a man he often wished would just go away but when he eventually did there was a hole deep down that never really got filled. He tells her about moving to London for university, about how he felt so out of place in that big, boisterous city that made Glasgow feel cosy and also very far away.

“And- and I was in an accident… a car accident. It, um, it changed things.”

His tongue sticks as it always does when he talks about it, but he feels her listening, her expectant gaze on his face, and it becomes a little easier to do so. So he tells her everything. About the headaches and the tremors in his hand and the way it took away what he loved. He tells her how Hunter was there for him through all of it, got him this job as a protection officer only to leave himself six months later because he’d fallen madly in love with Bobbi.

Jemma, in return, tells him all about her own parents. How she’s been provided for all of her life but her father was barely home and her mother expects so much from her only child that it’s exhausting in all ways. She admits how lonely she was when she was younger; she has no siblings and all of the other children in her classes were older and intimidated by her brain. She tells him that what she wants the most is for this to be over, to be able to go back to her normal life before all of this change.

“But, even when this is all over, I’d still like it if we could be friends?”

And Fitz, completely leaping over the lines, agrees that he would like it, too.

They talk and talk until the sun comes up and Fitz doesn’t even realise he hasn’t slept. He feels more alive than ever.

[kaoruyogi]

How to Win Wars and Influence Nobles (Ch. 2)

Rating: E for Explicit/NSFW Content!

Check it out on AO3!

You’d think a video game lawyer could just drop into a pseudo-medieval universe filled with magic and demons and be totally okay with it, right?

Nah.

In the wake of her brother, Spencer’s, disappearance, Belle dropped into Thedas with luggage, but without a clue. After a brief but memorable panic attack, she resolved to be the best goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. Even if she was the only goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. And even if that obstinate asshole, Cullen, wouldn’t stop giving her the side-eye every time she walked into a room…Or every time he walked into a room with her in it…Or every time they walked into a room together…Or–Fuck it. You get it.

Chapter 2: That Vexing Interloper

The queerly dressed, foul-mouthed woman cried for nearly three hours after she woke the second time. Josephine insisted that all three advisors wait in the woman’s room until she calmed enough to discuss how she’d come to be with them. The entire exercise was feckless and pretextual as far as he was concerned. They could have put her in the cells to question her, or Leliana could have extracted whatever information she wanted in her own way. Instead they detained her in comfort, in her own room, while so many shared quarters or slept in tents in the valley below. That thought alone left him piqued—agitated in a way he never would have been if he’d seen anyone else crying. Anyone but her.

The way she’d spoken to him was impudent, to say the very least. While it was clear she had no idea who he was, that fact mattered little to him. That she thought her desires were more important than their cause, however, was a galling concept. He despised the nobility for the same reason, making it obvious to him that the two of them were not going to see eye to eye.

However, Leliana was uncharacteristically kind to her, and Josephine rubbed her back and cooed soothing little assurances for almost the entirety of the three hours of sobbing. Cullen stood with his arms crossed by the door, glowering at the weeping woman. She rocked back and forth, whimpering and puling, having wrapped herself up in a blanket to ward the cool winds away from her pale skin. Loose, winding tendrils of her deep red hair fell over her shoulder as she sniffled and swayed.

He would puff out a loud sigh every now and again to remind the women that they all had better things to do than watch this vexing interloper lament her circumstances. Josephine stared more than a few daggers into him in response. So there he waited. Until she finally began to speak.

Her name was Belle. She haled from someplace called “Orange County, California”—a strange name for a strange place. The year there was 2017, but she couldn’t explain what age it was. She said they didn’t have ages, but then rattled on about the “Middle Ages” and the “Bronze Age” and the “Industrial Age” and something about how ages were never named until after they were over in a flustered stream of consciousness he thought would never end. He became more grateful as she rambled that they hadn’t had time to question the other one. There was no telling what the young man may have spewed out in this state.

She asked for her glasses, telling Cullen they were in her purse next to him. When he looked inside the black and cream colored satchel, a jumble of bright colors and papers and tiny trinkets perplexed him so that he just hurled the whole mess onto the bed in front of her.

“Oh my God, will you stop disrespecting my shit?!” She hollered her curses at him after the odd leather bag spilled some of its contents, an angry, wounded look on her tear-swollen face. “First you want to dig through it, then you don’t want to dig through it, then you’re fucking hucking it at me.” Her head swung from one side to the other as she spoke, her voice still a bit nasal. “Fine. I get it. You don’t like me. You don’t want me here. Well, guess what, Commander Cullen Ruther-whateverthefuck of the Inquisition, I don’t want to be here either.”

She opened an misshapen orange leather pouch and pulled out a pair of clear eyeglasses, not at all like the dark monstrosities she’d been wearing when they found her. Once they were affixed to her face, she looked at him again, calmer this time. “But apparently I’m stuck here. So  apparently you’re stuck with me.”

He couldn’t argue with her logic. Though he might argue that they weren’t quite as stuck with her as she was in Thedas. They could take her to Denerim or Val Royeaux and be rid of her. He remained silent, keeping that option to himself.

“How did you come to Thedas?” Leliana asked.

“I don’t know. If I had to guess, it probably happened when that weird green wormhole thing defied all science and reason and sucked me up in the middle of the street.”

The spymaster turned her attention to Cullen. “Your men said she fell from a rift, did they not?”

Of the three of them, he’d had the greatest exposure to Fade rifts. He spent days after the Breach opened fighting off the demons gushing out of the things. So he nodded. “That is also how the first one fell into the wreckage of the Temple. I do not know what a ‘wormhole’ is, but the way she describes it, I believe it is a Fade rift. How one might have opened in this ‘Orange County’ without simply pouring out demons is rather puzzling.”

“Perhaps we should ask Dagna to research this,” Josephine said, speaking up for the first time in what may have been minutes or hours. Her hand still rested on the bespectacled intruder’s shoulder.

Leliana nodded. “Yes, though she will want to take samples.”

A bulky curl flew through the air as the Belle’s head whirled to level a stare at the spymaster. “What do you mean, ‘samples’? Like, ‘oh we’ll just take a piece of her shirt and a few skin cells’ samples or, ‘well, hey, it’s time to chop off a foot’ samples?”

“Somewhere in between, I imagine.”

“Listen, if you’re trying to be funny, comedy has this thing called ‘timing.’ I don’t think you’ve grasped it.”

The spymaster smiled—actually smiled—at the impertinent woman, and she managed to smile back. It was a weak thing, but there was something pleasing about it. It was genuine and warm, and her bottom lip stretched more than her top one. He cleared his throat to jostle himself from the thought.

Three sets of eyes fixed themselves on him, all of them perturbed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and when the women had determined he had nothing useful to add they returned to their conversation.

“You guys keep talking about ‘the young man’ and ‘the other one.’ There was someone else who dropped in on you like I did?”

Leliana nodded. “There was.”

“Who is he? Do he and I have anything in common that might have drawn both of us here?” Belle’s hazel eyes bore a glimmer of hope beneath their watery sheen.

“I think perhaps we will keep his name to ourselves until he returns in five days’ time. We are uncertain whether anything may link the two of you, and we have not yet ruled out Corypheus’s involvement in your sudden appearance.”

Offhand, Cullen couldn’t fathom anything that might have linked the young man to Belle. They differed in far too many ways.

“I don’t know who or what that is, but I get it.” The outsider accepted Leliana’s reply with too little protest, in his opinion. While he preferred this non-sobbing version of her, he found her sudden surrender peculiar.

As if reading his thoughts, she looked him dead in the eye and said, “It’s pointless for me to argue with you all. I gather that you’re at war here—needing a Commander and a keep and the clanging swords outside and everything—and I definitely can’t get home without another wormhole or rift or whatever. So all I can do for now is wait until we sort this out and thank you for your help.” Her stare was fixed on him as she spoke, her voice leaving her dusky lips in a tone so even and controlled it was like a different person was talking.

Could they read minds in Orange County?

“Do you have a trade where you come from?” Josephine asked. It was a good question. The Inquisition could not afford to feed anyone that did not work, let alone quarter them. In a private tower only feet from his own. He stifled a growl at the thought.

Belle sniffled and pushed at her nose with her knuckle. “I did. I do? Yes, I guess would be the best answer, ignoring tenses. I’m an attorney.”

Confounded glances flicked between each of the advisors. It was a rare occasion, indeed, when not one of them knew the meaning of a word. Even rarer when the word was related to a trade. Their combined experience with the varied peoples of Thedas offered them a wide pool of knowledge from which to draw their comprehension. Orange County must have been quite bizarre.

Josephine, it seemed, was the first of them brave enough to admit she did not understand. “I apologize. I have never heard of such a trade.” Her hazel eyes cast down for a moment as she considered her next words. “What does it entail?” she asked, looking to Belle’s face again. Their eyes appeared remarkably similar in color from where he stood.

“Oh. Um. Okay, so you don’t have attorneys here. That must make things easier and harder all at once.” Belle was muttering again. She took a deep breath, and as she did her hands rose up in front of her. Her nails were long and covered in some sort of paint. Tiny lines and patterns wove from finger to finger in glittering shades of blue and purple and pink. It was like nothing Cullen had ever encountered before. Like miniscule paintings. Perhaps “attorney” meant “painter” where she came from.

“Okay, an attorney is someone who works with the law,” she said. Her hands moved while she spoke, her long fingers curving with surprising delicacy. Her pinkies stayed out straighter than the others, but not completely straight. Odd.

Cullen ventured a guess. “Is it a post in a guard force?”

Belle bunched her mouth up on the left side of her face. “Not really? Umm…” She hummed and drew both lips between her teeth. “Attorneys—or lawyers or counselors we’re sometimes called—help create the law. Then we help people use the law to protect themselves and attack others who’ve violated it.” Strange. Cullen had only ever heard of monarchs and nobility making the law or punishing violators.

“Most of us specialize in a particular area or study because there are so many laws. I specialize in video ga—Um…I worked a lot on negotiations, drawing up contracts, employment agreements, privacy agreements, and terms of use, and with copyright and trademark stuff. I worked on some incorporations. I also did a little bit of business advisory work with some of my clients. I’d help them with strategies to grow their companies and make more money. Oh, and I do a little mediating here and there.” She splayed her fingers out in a kind of shrug and raised her eyebrows. He supposed she was finished.

Cullen had never seen Josephine’s eyes light up like they did as Belle explained herself. No one in that room understood some of the words she’d said. There was little doubt about that. But Josephine heard “negotiations,” “contracts,” “agreements,” “grow,” and “more money” and began to glow like the sun. It was unsettling.

Leliana let out a small laugh—also unsettling. “I believe we may have found someone of your ilk, Josie.”

The lady ambassador ignored the remark, the entirety of her energy now honed in on their uninvited guest. She spoke with the voice of a child on Satinalia morning. “Truly? Your work involves contracts and negotiations?” She leaned forward as she pried—unaware of her own movement, Cullen imagined. Josephine was not one to relinquish her composure.

Meanwhile, Belle leaned back, eyes wide with surprise and mouth bearing a poorly bitten back grin. “Yes. That’s most of what I do—did—” She let out an exasperated sigh. She seemed to be having some difficulty reconciling her past and present. “Most of it has to do with contracts and negotiations. There’s other work, but that was my bread and butter.” A fitting choice of words, as that was what she would have to earn for as long as she stayed with them.

If she was not working for Corypheus.

Josephine’s expression turned pensive in a flash. “I could use someone like you. The nobility are fickle, and while many of them are useful for a transaction or two, there is no constant but me to track all of the Inquisition’s contracts. And I have no neutral nobility but myself to engage in negotiations.”

Belle’s face twisted into something like disgust. Who was she to feel disgusted at anything? Cullen’s contempt for her dredged itself up afresh, pricking at his fingertips, clutching the pommel of his sword just a little tighter.

“You’re doing all this by yourself? I mean, I get that you have people who work one or two cases for you, but no one’s got a consistent workload but you? And you’re the only negotiator for—what is this—a whole army?”

“The Inquisition is a peacekeeping force instituted to end the mage rebellion, seal the Breach, find those responsible, and bring them to justice.” Cullen said it like he’d said it hundreds of times. He had. Every new recruit that passed under his command heard it before anything else. They needed to hear it before anything else.

But their pale stranger looked unimpressed. “Okay, thanks. At ease.” She flicked her wrist and hand in an odd kind of salute and looked away for a moment before her eyes snapped back to him. “Wait a second, did you just fucking say ‘mage’?”

The conversation sped up from there. Much to Cullen’s chagrin, Leliana and Josephine poured information out to the interloper, who it seemed had never seen magic or even heard of a real mage. They explained the mage uprising in as simple a set of terms as they could, told her about the Temple of Sacred ashes, the Breach, and Corypheus, and she learned of the events at Haven less than a month ago. Leliana didn’t seem to think Belle was as much a threat as he did. She said too much, in his opinion. But it was her knowledge to give, and not his place to question. He was beginning to feel he was just there to stand guard and be ignored.

It was agreed upon—without Cullen’s input—that Belle would be granted access to Skyhold proper. She would read and research the laws and customs of Thedas until the Inquisitor’s return in five days. With him would come the Inquisition’s other drop-in and Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. At that time, the advisors, Cassandra, and the Inquisitor would make a second assessment of both the outsiders’ potential threat level and determine whether they could remain part of the organization. If their statements were deemed credible and their loyalty assured, Belle would begin working as Josephine’s primary associate. This would put her in a position of power, allowing her access to the Inquisition’s funds, authority to negotiate and contract on behalf of the Inquisition, and the ability to communicate with all the nobility of Thedas. Cullen did not wish the last duty upon anyone.

They left her after nightfall, and after she finally realized they had moved her to the upper floor of a very tall tower. She whimpered something about a fear of heights and Josephine promised her a staircase if all went as she hoped. Leliana whispered something to one of her scouts on the battlements. He nodded and vanished into the night.

“She will be watched closely,” said the spymaster.

Cullen nodded his relief and approval. “She must be.”

*****

It was three days before he saw Belle again. Three times a day, Leliana’s scouts would report to her, then to him. Most of what they told him was innocuous. Belle spent the majority of her time in one of the libraries, and could either be found with her nose buried in a tome in the rotunda or amid the dusty shelves beneath Josephine’s office.

She screamed the first time she saw Dorian do magic, but immediately grabbed him by the wrist to demand that he do it again. One of the scouts reported seeing her in the garden trying to replicate the simple spell to no avail. Cullen thanked his lucky stars for that. The last thing he needed was an untrained mage traipsing about unattended.

She also spat out ale the first time someone gave it to her in the Herald’s Rest, claiming something about a sensitive stomach. Cullen wondered if that was a ruse she played up to keep her wits about her while she spied on them. She wouldn’t be the first to avoid dampening her senses to keep a keen eye.

She even blanched at shedding her clothes in the baths. He could only perceive such reticence as concealment of some telling mark on her body. Some scar or brand on her flesh must have bound her to Corypheus. And she saturated an otherwise clean drying cloth. Wasteful.

There was yet another report that Belle swallowed several smooth pebble-shaped objects every morning and sometimes throughout the day. They emerged from a mélange of bottles in varying shapes and colors. He was also told that she counted the objects that remained in the bottles with a look of worry affixed to her face. When asked once, she said they were for her stomach, head, back, and neck. She called them “pills” and “meds.” Adan speculated when pressed that perhaps, in Orange County, these “pills” and “meds” were a means of delivering healing herbs—like a potion or a poultice for one’s innards. Rubbish. Cullen suspected she was hiding magical items in her gut. Or perhaps she was swallowing the bits to keep some enchantment in place. As far-fetched as it may have sounded to someone else, he had seen stranger things. Recently, in fact.

It was well into the depths of Belle’s third night in Skyhold when Cullen encountered her again. He’d tried to sleep. At least he played at trying to fall asleep. Sleep was an elusive thing, grasping it a fever dream in and of itself. Most nights he managed about two or three hours of tumultuous rest, tossing and turning and plagued by nightmares of horrors past. He was beset by night sweats and lyrium withdrawal symptoms, made worse by the fact that he was still hiding his cessation of the stuff from the Inquisitor. The man had enough troubles without being burdened with Cullen’s.

He threw on the nearest breeches and tunic he could find, not bothering with the small laces that would have made his shirt presentable. The knot at the hip of his breeches was lazy at best. He just needed a cup of water. He convinced himself that would be enough to help him sleep. He pulled on his boots with his feet more than his hands, stomping his way past his grip to don the worn leather things.

After descending the ladder and exiting his quarters, Cullen cast a quick glance at Belle’s tower. Belle’s tower. He scoffed at the thought. It sat just above the stables where the horses and Warden Blackwall made their beds for the night. They should have given that tower to the Warden, not to some irksome woman who fell through a rift. No light or sound emanated from within, so Cullen believed her to be asleep.

He travelled down the stairs against the battlements into the rear courtyard. It was the way he always went when he needed water in the middle of the night. The way he could disturb the fewest people and be watched by the fewest guards. He tugged the wooden door open as quietly as he could, knowing that many of the cooks and servants slept just below. Likewise, he silenced his footfalls. He’d woken Donatien once, and was loathe to suffer the cook’s spoon-flailing wrath a second time.

An odd shadow on the wall and the sound of quiet humming stilled his steps. There was someone else in the kitchen. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on her. Belle sat on the floor next to roaring fireplace in a tangle of limbs. Her back settled against the wall. She wore a soft shirt with a strange image on it, black breeches made from a similar material covering her crossed legs. A heavy looking book lay open between her knees, its spine resting on one of her bare ankles. Her feet were bare too, and the toes of her right foot wiggled on her left thigh. Her right hand sat on the edge of the volume, holding a page aloft as though she was about to turn it. The fingers of her left hand splayed across her cheek. Cullen lost sight of three of them under her hair. It glowed like a fiery halo about her round face, set alight by the flames beside her. Her pinky brushed back and forth across her parted lower lip as she read, the nail occasionally finding itself between her teeth. Her lips were plush and soft like the rest of her body. They were rather enticing when they weren’t spewing vitriol at him.

She turned the page and reached down without looking. The movement drew Cullen’s attention away from his dangerous thoughts about her lips. Her fingers tapped the floor around a half-eaten Orlesian bread roll on a cloth in front of her knee. Her head turned to find the bread her hand hadn’t, and she grabbed it up. But then she caught sight of him.

Belle’s whole body jerked, hurling her bread into the fire and slamming the thick tome shut between her thighs with a loud thump. Her hand flew up to grip her chest. She gasped hard, her supple lips emitting what he could only imagine was a string of curses. “Jesus balls on a bike!” She hissed in a breath. “Fuck!”

He was frozen in place, overwhelmed by boyhood sensation so familiar it made his chest ache. Like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have done. Seeing something he shouldn’t have seen. But that was wrong. She was the one doing something she shouldn’t have. “What are you doing in here at this time of night?”

She panted a few hard breaths before her hazel eyes flew up to meet his. “Reading, having a snack, what’s it look like? I’m a bad traveler, and I have no fucking idea what time zone this is, but I’m having a very hard time getting on your schedule. I’m also not a huge fan of climbing that godforsaken ladder in the tower. I should ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be—I dunno—sleeping or brooding or something?” There it was.

But he was befuddled. “I was…having trouble sleeping and I came in here for some water.” Maker’s breath. Why did he still feel he owed her an explanation?

She squinted up at him from behind her glasses. “Why are you so sweaty? It’s, like, forty-three degrees outside.”

He hadn’t noticed the sweat beading at his forehead and along his back until that moment. But he would not be explaining himself to the nettlesome woman any further. “You should not be in here.”

It was then that she stood. Belle snatched up the heavy book from the floor and marched right up to him. She stopped just shy of their bodies colliding. This close, Cullen could see the details of her eyes. They were blue-green like the sea, but a thick bronze starburst surrounded her pupils. Little flecks of ochre and sienna in that bronze ring made it look like armor—like a round shield that had been battered and marred and dented in the heat of battle. Where the rest of her was soft, her eyes were hard. Warrior’s eyes.

And those embattled eyes darted about, examining his face and boring down into him. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I find you suspicious.”

“It’s more than that, though. I think there’s something fundamental about me you don’t like.” She canted her head to the side, her gaze never leaving his. Her lips had a natural part when she paused. “That’s fine. But when you find my story credible—and rest assured you didn’t have to wait for whoever the hell is coming back here to do that—we’re going to have to work together, you and I. And that, Commander Cullen Rutherford, is something you’re going to have to come to grips with.”

Belle stepped back, still staring at him. He held himself firm, keeping his posture tight and his jaw clenched. She was right. There was something fundamentally infuriating about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Perhaps it was her obstinacy or her foul mouth or her general disregard for their well-founded suspicions. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him.

Book in hand, she slipped past Cullen toward the back door through which he had entered. “By the way,” she said behind him, “I don’t know what kind of drugs you have here in Thedas, but I’ve seen plenty of people detox before. You were right to come down for water. And you should take extra. Hydration is key.” The door closed, shutting out her tempestuous eyes and her confounding lips once more.

He felt exposed. He did not know what “detox” meant, but the way she said it…Maker. She knew something about him that no one else did. She must have.

He retrieved his water from the deep basin and drank it down. It was cool on his parched throat, though it did little to soothe his frayed nerves. He was naked to her. He couldn’t shake the feeling. It hovered over him as he trudged back to his tower, as he climbed his ladder, as he lay sleepless through the wee hours of the morning.

Unsettling, needling woman.

It was yet another two days before he saw her again. She stood beside Josephine on the steps of Skyhold outside the main hall, awaiting Inquisitor Trevelyan’s arrival. She seemed firm and composed, an occasional sigh the only sign of her nerves. Even when the Inquisitor and his companions rode through the gate, she remained still. Until the young man came in.

He marched alongside several of Cullen’s infantrymen, his every step dutiful despite the cheering around them. Cullen realized he wasn’t the only one watching Belle when the soldiers entered. Leliana and Josephine had also locked their eyes on her.

But all she could do was stare down at the portcullis. Her eyes widened first. Her jaw dropped open next. At her sides, her hands trembled. She murmured something they couldn’t quite hear. When Josephine asked Belle to repeat herself, she obliged, only a touch louder.

“P,” she said. One letter, her voice barely a whisper as she said it.

“What?” Josephine asked.

“Spencer!”

Ah. So they did know each other.

*****

[oumakokichi]

I am well aware that you have talked about her briefly on a previous post, but what are your thoughts on Harukawa's character overall?

I have a couple of questions about Maki that I’ve been meaning to answer, so I’m going to answer them together like this!

There will be spoilers for pretty much everything about Maki as a character, and also spoilers involving Chapter 5 and onwards in ndrv3, so avoid reading if you don’t want to be spoiled that far ahead!

To be honest, the more I go through ndrv3 again and again,the more I find myself liking Maki. She really, genuinely grew on me, and whileI still would rank Ouma, Saihara, and Kaede as my top ndrv3 favorites in thatorder, Maki is a very, very close fourth.

I have seen a lot of hate on Maki lately in the tags, and I’mwell aware that many people are rather mixed on how to view some of the thingsshe did. I feel it’s honestly a shame, because Maki displayed real developmentand real progression in her behavior and attitude about things, and while I’maware that certainly Maki messed up (gravely) along the way, I feel it’sperfectly possible to hold her accountable for her actions while still enjoyingher as a character.

The twist about her talent was great. Pretty much everyoneknew or suspected that there wasn’t something quite right with her being a SHSLCaregiver, but it was just a matter of knowing what her real talent actuallywas. Her status as one of the first characters’ whose designs was released,complete with mysterious promotional art which made everyone wonder if shemight be the protagonist or not, had everyone debating over what her talentwould be and what her role in the game would lead to.

SHSL Assassin wound up being a great decision. I am,admittedly, inclined to be a little biased on this front, considering Maki isvoiced by Maaya Sakamoto, the voice actress for Shiki Ryougi who is one of thebest known assassins in anime of all time and has more than a few strikingsimilarities in common with Maki. But speaking from an unbiased perspective,the reveal about Maki and her in-game backstory was great, and I feel like alot of the potential that went unfulfilled with Mukuro as a SHSL Soldier wasbrought back around and this time used seriously for Maki instead.

Many are harsh on Maki for her stance as one of the coldest,most distant characters in the game, but I feel a lot of this is just thatpeople don’t enjoy seeing these traits in a female character nearly as much asthey enjoy seeing them in a male character (I’m going to keep bringing up theTogami comparison, yes, and while we’re at it, Kuzuryuu, who also literally hadpeople killed). Much of Maki’s coldness, and her tendency to snap a, “Do youwant to be killed?” at anyone who even mildly gets on her nerves, is heavilytied to her backstory in-game and the things she had to experience in order totrain as an assassin.

When she begins slowly but surely opening up, just a littlebit, to Momota and Saihara during their training sessions, Maki reveals quite alot that sheds light on why she acts the way that she does or finds it so hardto stop herself from expecting the same level of seriousness and ruthlessattention to detail from others that she finds in herself.

Back when she first started training for her job, she wentthrough exercises and drills so merciless that she was literally forced to do themuntil she dropped. When she would stop or collapse, she was met with the same “Doyou want to be killed?” line that she now finds herself instinctively repeatingto others. Little by little, any room for hesitation or mercy or kindness inMaki was drilled out of her, and she found herself even unable to cry at herown situation anymore. She felt empty, hollowed out, turned into a tool and aweapon to kill others without even knowing their names or why they needed todie. When describing these things to Saihara, she even says point-blank that ifasked which she felt were more “human,” herself or Kiibo, she’d pick Kiibo in aheartbeat.

In short, Maki is not someone who has ever been allowed theluxury of considering her own feelings or emotions on a daily basis, becausethese things would detract from the “ruthless assassin” image that was expectedof her. Even in a situation that no longer calls for her to kill others formoney, she still is inevitably linked to the trauma she experienced, and can’tquite stop herself from repeating the same line of reasoning that was forced onher. And even to this day, she finds herself wondering if maybe things would be different if she had never left the orphanagewhere she grew up, and maybe she would have been able to develop into adifferent person—and I find that highly understandable and very humanizing forher character.

Like Mukuro and Peko before her, Maki barely even considersherself a human being due to the atrocities she’s been forced to commit, andthe fact that most of her own emotions and ambitions were stomped out of her.But unlike those two, she is given a fantastic degree of autonomy and room todevelop by the narrative, and much like Togami and Kuzyruu, who were the “cold,loner-type” survivors before her, she finds her outer shells being strippedaway the more time she spends with people who genuinely care about her and areinterested in her.

I know a lot of people have also brought up Chapter 2 as areason they dislike Maki, with Ouma’s accusation that she only showed Ryoumahis motive video in order to purposely crush his will to live and get himkilled by someone else, thereby removing him from the game since he knew abouther SHSL Assassin identity.

But I personally don’t believe Ouma was saying these things asa 100% factual account of what happened: I think they were merely supposed tobe an accusation, and he phrased it in the most brutal, worst-possible wayintentionally because he wanted to provoke a reaction from her in front ofeveryone. For all Maki’s coldness and all her desire to remain distant from thegroup, her reluctance to talk about Ryouma in Chapter 2 struck me less asself-interested because she didn’t want the rest of them to suspect her (theywere already suspecting her because she refused to provide an alibi), and moreas her being…well, guilty, and not really knowing how to handle it very well.

Guilt is an emotion I’m sure she probably thought herselfalready well-accustomed to considering her talent, but the fact that Ryoumanonetheless died had to have hit her very hard, and she was clearly holdingherself accountable for it to some degree. Having been faced with hard truths andgrown up an orphan-turned-killer, Maki had been acclimated to the fact that shehad no loved ones and no one who truly cared for her as a sort of harsh truthto face for all her life. And she showed Ryouma his video because he keptinsisting that he wanted to see it—and then the weight of it crushed him, andit wasn’t something she had been expecting considering such a thing had nevercrushed her own will to live or kept her from going on.

Ouma is perceptive. When he sees a weak point, he strikes atit. If Maki were truly remorseless about Ryouma’s death, and only interested inkilling as an assassin, she would have simply ignored Ouma’s accusations infront of the group and then doubled back around later to try and find a way tochoke him or kill him on his own when no one else was around. The fact that shelashed out at all meant that he found a weak point in her emotions and wasintentionally targeting it, and that weak point itself was the guilt she wasfeeling. He phrased it in a way that probably resembled her own inner thoughtsand doubts about why she ever showed Ryouma that video.

But unfortunately, I think a lot of the fanbase took Ouma’swords at face value and honestly came to believe that she genuinely wantedRyouma to die. Ouma clearly meant to level the playing field: Maki hiding hertalent was unfair to the rest of the group and a definite threat to his abilityto investigate things at his own leisure, and he spilled her secret in front ofeveryone in order to remove that particular obstacle. All of this, of course,backs up the idea that he actually does hate murderers and liars, but that’sanother story for another time.

Finally, there’sChapter 5. Maki’s actions in Chapter 5 do wind up (unintentionally) resultingin the deaths of both Momota and Ouma, it’s true. And she certainly did rushinto assumptions and mess things up beyond fixing. But I feel like in DR, thisis a constant thing that happens. For all that Maki tries to maintain a façade ofbeing constantly calm and composed, her temper is actually very, very shortjust under the surface, and it’s clear to see that she’s anact-first-ask-questions-later sort of character, just as she’s been trained tobe.

Maki falling for Ouma’s act and believing that he was themastermind is not really something I can blame her for or hold entirelyaccountable for. He’s a fantastic actor, almost never letting his guard dropever, and to an assassin, the idea of “if I remove this person from the playingfield entirely then I’ll have gotten the job done” is pretty commonplace. Shenever, ever expected that Momota would become involved in the situation or windup getting hurt instead, and the fact that she rushed into things and tried toforce her own solution into the game is precisely what backfired and caused oneof the few people she’s ever cared about to get hurt.

It’s not something the narrative excuses her for or tries togloss over. She really, truly holds herself accountable and is angry andmiserable and frustrated at the realization that this person, who she initiallydidn’t want to let get close to her but who wormed his way into her heartnonetheless, is gone for good, and that it is largely her fault. It waspainful, and awful, and she truly messed up, and I thought it was brilliantlydone character development. Because where Maki before was the kind of characterto brush off death and loss as an inevitable part of life as an assassin andexpress little to no remorse or attachment to anything, by Chapter 5 she’s beenunarguably changed by Momota, and his death is one that she’ll have to carry onher shoulders, always.

The fact that Ouma died in Chapter 5 as well is regrettable,but it’s also as a consequence of his own actions. He carried his act too far,and became too tired and jaded after Chapter 4. Despite how much he likes tobluff, Ouma in the first few chapters is never a particularly big risk taker.Every action he took was carefully calculated and planned, and he never made amove unless he was at least 99% certain it would work in his favor. But inChapter 5, he began taking huge risks. He began making erratic andunpredictable moves. Ultimately, I think even though he still wanted to end thekilling game and strike a blow at the mastermind once and for all, he was fartoo on edge and deep into his self-loathing, and he lost the same level of careand calculation that he’d been able to perfect before.

Had he perhaps not pushed everyone else away or let thoselike Saihara in just a little further to the point where they could understandhim better, Ouma wouldn’t have had to go to the lengths that he went to. But hedoes decide to face death fearlessly and he goes out as a matter of his ownchoice, and I feel that should be respected, and not pinned on Maki as entirelyher fault when she fell for a ruse that he wanted her to fall for in the firstplace.

I hope this has cleared up some of my feelings on Maki allaround. I really do love her, and I think she’s a sort of female character wehaven’t ever gotten to see from a DR installment before, which is reallyfantastic. Her flaws and mistakes and her skewed sense of self-perception makeher complex and understandable without being excusable all of the time, andthat’s good writing, in my opinion.