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crisis-starter · 20 days ago

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Hi!

This isn’t the complete thing.

But I feel bad for leaving you guys hanging for so long. Sorry, I am a strange soul with a questionable attention span. Thankfully, I think I’ll only split this into 2 parts.

Here ya go. Almost 3,000 words of text I guess.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Memory of Inquiry - 1

Loop couldn’t see Siffrin clearly from where they were. But they could feel the hesitation.

Knowing that at this point, Siffrin doesn’t bother trying to talk to Loop since the King fight is pretty routine, Loop decided to try something. They didn’t know what would happen if they did this. Would they reach their own Isabeau? Or the fighter?

They took a moment to work up the courage. They formulated the fighter in their head, and took the plunge. They spoke, “Hello. Isabeau, correct?” Loop felt the sparks of craft tingling their brain, so they cut in, “Don’t reply. I just want you to listen.”

The craft fizzled out, and Loop sighed in relief. They wanted to hide this from their stardust for a while, and having Isabeau reply would ruin it. Loop continued, “You’ve landed yourself in a time loop, hm? Well, how about you meet me at the Favor Tree the next time you’re in Dormont? Then we could talk about what we know. Since, well, I don’t want you to waste your precious energy on a simple call.”

Loop dropped the call, and waited for the King fight to finish. It was… irritating, to know that the fight against the King could’ve ended much sooner if they had only thought to teach Mirabelle about the damned shield skill. But they could never confess this. Ever. They already chose a role. They didn’t want to drop a twist so soon.

This time it was a victory. They were on the roof. Kudos to the fighter, it didn’t feel like Siffrin suspected anything. It was time to talk to the Head Housemaiden and loop back to Dormont. That’s when Loop felt a twinge of fear. It’s fair, it was muted, somewhat, because Siffrin had already been on the roof a few times. This fear however. This fear was different.

There was pain. Pain that got sharper and sharper. What… what was this… what was he…

Oh.

Oh no.

And Siffrin looped. Back to Dormont supposedly, because Isabeau was nearby, shaken. He was looking at his hands.

Immediately after witnessing a suicide. What a way to meet. They looked at Isabeau. Siffrin was going to perform the friend quests again. This could mean more time for chatting about Isabeau’s perspective. Loop stood up from their seat on the Favor Tree and called, “Oh Fighter!~”

Isabeau turned his gaze to the Favor Tree. He looked around for any other sign of life before pointing to himself. Loop beckoned him closer before sitting down on their beloved root. Isabeau sat across from Loop, confused. Maybe even a little suspicious.

Loop squinted their eyes in a smile, beginning to tease, “Oh please. Fighter, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to assume you’re the Researcher in disguise!” Isabeau was smart. He could probably see through Loop’s mask in practically no time at all. No amount of acting can hide this level of intellect from them. Isabeau looked away a little, seemingly thinking.

My oh my, was Loop finding it odd. Isabeau was usually very boisterous. So this silence was… uncharacteristic!

Loop could guess why. And they would be right.

After a minute, Isabeau stated, “I have… numerous questions.” Loop put a hand over their non existent mouth, “As expected. Fire away, Fighter!” The name made Isabeau stop. He paused.

“Before we begin… I… would not like to be called by an epithet if we’re going to see and speak to each other again.” Isabeau explained. Loop cocked their head to the side, “Very well, darling Apollo.” That caused Isabeau to get confused again, “Apo- Alright, at least it isn’t a title… I think…” Haha, Isabeau’s confusion was cute.

Stop it, Loop.

They aren’t yours, silly!

Isabeau fake coughed before asking, “What do I… hm… Do you have a name?” Loop tapped their cheek with one finger and looked off to the side, acting like they were thinking before answering, “You can call me Loop.” Isabeau muttered the name under his breath before nodding. So stern! Loop was joking before, but was the Universe playing a trick on them? Was the Researcher actually spying on them with the Fighter being in on it?

Isabeau readjusted the way he was sitting. That’s fair. The root was probably more Siffrin size. So he was probably a bit uncomfortable. He looked at Loop, “So… what are you? Because-“ Loop quickly interrupted, “A star!~” Isabeau’s inquisitive expression turned into a frustrated one, “No you’re not.” Loop made it a sport of finding the quickest way to irritate someone. Isa’s intellect caught up to him again! The star crossed their legs, “Then what am I?” Isabeau had to think for a moment, “I- You are… I… I may need more evidence.” Loop giggled.

“Okay, so you finally confirmed a theory by calling this a time loop. It's a time loop triggered by either freezing, dying, talking to the head housemaiden, or a moment of extreme distress. But… does it revolve around everyone, or just…” Isabeau inquired, causing Loop to clap, “Oh, Apollo, what a logical mind you have! Why don’t you test it out?” Isabeau was hesitant, “Are you asking me to… kill myself?” The star nodded, “If you’re going to come back, why not try?”

Isabeau looked unnerved. It took him a moment, but he agreed. Loop sighed, “Apollo, dearest, it’s scary. But aren’t all experiments unexpected? Only once. Give me the results, and then we will work from there.”

Isabeau looked at Loop, slightly wary. He didn’t really know what to use. How to… die. He asked, anxious, “But what do I use?” Loop thought for a moment, “The earliest way to die is getting crushed by the rock in the death corridor. The most painless is the tears, which are on basically every floor. Or, you could die in battle. Die like a hero, if you want a virtuous demise.” Isabeau was silent for a moment. The fighter readjusted to sitting a bit closer to himself. Loop continued, “It’ll hurt, but there’s some level of dignity in ‘falling on your blade’. There are sadnesses on every floor, but I doubt Stardust would ever permit you to die that way.” Isabeau added, “Or at all.” Loop nodded, “….Yes. Now you see why this might be tricky.”

Isabeau stood up from his root, saying with a small smile, “I think Sif’s gonna come back in a bit. I should get back to my spot. However, thank you for the idea, Loop. See you soon.” Loop giggled, “A genuine thanks! Gross!” The star’s expression softened, “I greatly appreciated our time together, Apollo. I’ll see you soon. Feel free to call when you’re stuck.” Isabeau then began to leave.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Another snack room.

The air was tense.

Siffrin was seemingly in thought, maybe trying to process something. Mirabelle was anxious, probably about the Head Housemaiden. Bonnie was busy just eating their snack.

Isabeau was truly indecisive on what he was going to do. How he was going to die. And, now that he was here, he had close to no choice. So, trying to keep this from Odile, Isabeau did the infamous hand sign that he taught himself and formulated Siffrin’s image in his head.

Once he felt the craft work, he looked at Siffrin, who seemed visibly distracted by their own thoughts. Isabeau was finding it a bit nerve wracking to speak to Siffrin, but well, he kinda needed the rogue to cooperate at least for a minute. Isabeau relaxed before starting to speak quietly, “Sif? Can I talk to you in… the next room?”

Siffrin was startled before looking straight at Isabeau, incredulously. Siffrin stood up, declaring, “Can I speak with Isa, privately, if possible?” Isabeau was pleased to see that, while Odile was a bit suspicious, she permitted it. Mirabelle handed the fighter a ‘we’ll talk about this later’ look, and Bonnie was curious but didn’t pry.

As he walked into the room with the staircase, Isabeau heard a familiar voice in his head.

‘Oh Apollo~ Please, do me a favor. Don’t mention that I’m working with you. Or else.’

Siffrin stopped and looked at Isabeau, asking, “What’s wrong? Where did you learn that?” Isabeau looked at Siffrin. He didn’t have to give a complete lie for those questions. But he still felt a bit guilty about hiding Loop’s involvement.

Isabeau did the hand signal before saying, “This? I picked it up from you. Though, I haven’t really been using it much.” It’s true that he hadn’t used that kind of craft in the house a lot, but it is extremely useful when talking to Mirabelle in the case that neither of them are sure who Siffrin is going to chat to and when. He undid the craft sign and waited for Siffrin’s reply, even if it was just a change in expression.

Siffrin almost seemed… somewhat endeared by that. But that was beside the point. Isabeau needed to ask and deliver this as softly as possible. Or maybe he should give it straight? Siffrin met Isabeau’s eyes, “Isa, why did you want to talk with me privately? What can’t be said to the entire group but can be said to me alone? Are you… worried about something?”

Isabeau rubbed his left arm slowly, “Sif… I… Do you think… we can lose to the King on purpose, this time?” Siffrin looked at the fighter wide-eyed. They paused for a bit to take in the question, “You… you know about the…” The fighter watched as Siffrin’s worry turned into anxiety.

Isabeau fought with himself, choosing this to be the moment where he touches- no, holds Siffrin. He grabbed Siffrin’s shoulders firmly, getting a flinch as well as their attention, “Please, Sif? Breathe with me?” This was not going nicely. Not at all.

The duo took a moment of silence as they both worked together to get rid of the stress on their shoulders. Isabeau softened his grip, moving one hand onto Siffrin’s head.

More moments of peace and breathing. Isabeau looked down at Siffrin and stated, “I want to use these next few loops to… experiment with things you may not have tried before. If that’s alright.” That explanation seemed to confuse Siffrin a little, “‘Experiment’? How will losing to the King be an experiment?”

Isabeau answered, truthfully, “I want to know what happens between when we die, and when we wake up.” Siffrin looked at Isabeau, concerned. They sighed, “It hurts me worse, seeing you get hurt.” The fighter was a tad ashamed to hear that. He could feel the guilt wash over his face. Then an extra comment from Siffrin grabbed his attention. Siffrin spoke softly, perhaps hoping to keep the thought to themself, “You know about the loops… Bonnie knows about the loops… Mira too…. Is Odile going to…? Wait, when did you become aware of them?”

The Fighter really did not want to answer that. Siffrin’s reaction and expression from that kiss were engraved into his mind, and pushing him away felt like the worst move he could’ve done there. But, if he wanted to be honest, he had to rip the bandaid off. So he, unable to meet Siffrin’s eyes, said, “Since you kissed me, Sif.”

Siffrin looked shaken. They looked right at Isabeau, and started to apologize profusely. Oh, he should’ve thought about this before saying that. Isabeau grabbed both of Siffrin’s hands and held them in his own, silencing the rogue for a moment. He squeezed them a bit, maybe trying to drag the traveler away from whatever thought process they were zipping through.

He… found this to feel vaguely familiar. Odd.

“I’ve known since that point. Not before… at all. If I talk about anything that happened before that moment, it’s probably because Mira told me.” Isabeau elaborated, “I don’t know why we’re ‘waking up’ at different times. But I think solving the conundrum that is the loops is higher on the priority list. Is there something you haven’t tried yet?” Isabeau let go of Siffrin’s hands, still slightly hesitant to touch him for too long.

Siffrin, slightly saddened, thought for a moment, “Talk to the King? I don’t have much to ask the Head Housemaiden.” Isabeau was hesitant to permit that, considering the King is a terrorist or maybe something even worse. He nodded in acknowledgment, “Alright… I’ll admit that I am not the most fond of that idea, but it might help.” A voice buzzed in his head:

‘You and me both, Apollo.’

Isabeau paused for a second before agreeing , “So, yeah. Let’s talk to the King.” Siffrin smiled softly, “Thank you, for helping me, despite all the mistakes I made…” Isabeau smiled back, “I’m glad to be of assistance. Wanna go back?” Siffrin nodded, “Time to… lose to the King. It’ll hurt, so brace yourself.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“Isa, please don’t call me that.”

“Just kidding.”

They came back, and Siffrin stated, “Let's go. We have a King to defeat.” Maybe Siffrin was putting up a front for Odile. Siffrin knows that Bonnie and Mirabelle are aware. But Odile is an uncertainty. She’s smart, but maybe…

He didn’t really need to worry so much for that one, since all he had to do was ask to repeat a conversation from a previous loop.

As the group began to approach the hair covered path to the King, Isabeau noticed Siffrin having a hushed conversation with Mirabelle, no doubt asking her to do something. Or not do something, he guessed.

Bracing yourself for something agonizing… it’s harder than the heroes in stories make it out to be. Yes, the King is a gargantuan beast that can absolutely cause damage unheard of. But really. If he knew he was going to experience agony but not how much, it made him feel… uncertain.

Everyone is afraid of pain and agony at least to a small extent. But it’s fine. It’s for the experiment. It won’t take many loops. Then they can all go back to more direct approaches to stopping the loops.

Loop was another enigma. What were they? Who were they? How did they know Isabeau? What was with the brief look of… dismay? Grief? Something in their eyes bothered him a bit. Maybe Loop was playing up their whole personality to mess with him. It’s a possibility. He just hoped that it wasn’t just for fun…

Isabeau felt the King watch everyone as the group approached. Is it possible to see through his hair or his fists? Probably not. Is it because he heard them approach? That seemed more plausible, despite the lack of echo.

He got into a fighting stance, looking at Siffrin. The silence was deafening, yet soft. Maybe Isabeau wanted some comfort in death, however lacking it may be. He was still, knowingly, going to die.

So the brief silence was welcoming to an extent. He felt someone look at him. Isabeau looked to his right to see Siffrin’s face.

Siffrin was worried. Definitely. They looked at Isabeau with an expression that asked ‘Are you sure’. Isabeau smiled and nodded. It was a nervous smile, because who wouldn’t be nervous at the advent of their demise, so it didn’t quite help alleviate the concern on Siffrin’s face.

The rogue took a deep breath in and out, before saying, “Let’s get this over with.” Mirabelle didn’t grace the King with any words. Isabeau gathered his bearings. Odile prepared herself, stating, “Get ready, everyone.”

The King stopped everyone with a stern “Wait.” There was a pause. Maybe that’s why Siffrin hadn’t entered a stance yet.

“You. Traveler.” The King bellowed. Odile raised a brow and looked at Siffrin with a look of confusion. Siffrin glanced back at Odile, before turning their attention to the King.

“Bright one.” The King paused, “Do you remember?” Siffrin looked down, brows furrowed. Isabeau wondered if that was what Siffrin wanted to figure out. The rogue shook their head and refocused. The King wailed. Utterances of how they should remember things. That they, Siffrin and the King, have to remember.

After the King stopped his pleading, his gaze turned to the team. He steeled himself, bellowing, “….We shall fight. AND WE SHALL SEE WHICH SIDE THE UNIVERSE FAVORS!!!”

Battle time. But the King has things to say. Siffrin seemingly decided to not pay attention. Mirabelle is paying attention. Isabeau decided to listen as well.

The King wrung his hands together, hair veiling his face, “….Oh…. Oh…. Despite what you may think….. I am…. A merciful King.I will give you some time to come to terms with your end…. A most beautiful end…. An eternal end….” Isabeau sighed, “You really are taking us for cowards, aren’t you?” Mirabelle looked a tad surprised that Isabeau spoke directly to the King, but followed up, “We won’t hesitate until you’re good as gone!” Odile repeated the warning from previously, and the battle had truly begun.

The King changed up his first attack. Siffrin passed his turn to Odile so they could start off with a strong paper attack. Mirabelle followed up with Artsy Silent Burst, a paper attack of her own. And then the King spoke, “Ooh, ooooooh…… It is time, saviors.”

The King snapped his fingers. And everyone’s bodies were mostly frozen. But it was enough to look back at Bonnie, who was shaken. As Odile yelled for them to run, they quickly picked up their composure. Bonnie handed the King a hateful, yet teary glare before booking it.

Siffrin shared a few weakened words with the King, before the King swept his hand across the battlefield, probably damn near crushing everyone into a bloody pulp.

They were done for. The agony Isabeau felt at that moment was unlike anything he had ever known. His vision blurred before he collapsed and slowly bled to death.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

I’m back.

School is hell and being sick is even worse.

#crisis writes things #caught in a spiral #cias au #isat au #isat isabeau #in stars and time #isat siffrin #isat mirabelle #isat loop #isat bonnie #isat odile

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writingkeepsmewhole · 10 months ago

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Loud and Heavy

This is part 1 of my why choose Teen Wolf Fic.

Fic Summery: Harper McCall falls for both Stiles and Derek and has to choose one. Or dose she?

Part Summery: Harper goes with Stiles and Scott to find a body in the woods. What happens when she gets separated and bitten by something.

Warnings: None?

Let me know if you wanna be tagged.

I stood in my bedroom soft music playing from the computer as I tried to pick out what to wear tomorrow. It was the first day of school. The first day of the rest of my life. Both me and my brother Scott decided that we were going to be who we wanted to be in school this year.

He was going to play lacrosse and I was going to do well…something.

Problem with me: I had no idea who I wanted to be. No big dream I wanted to have in high school. This was my last year to live the high school dream but what even was that?

Be asked to prom? I don’t know, haha. Parties. I always wanted to be invited to one of the parties more for curious sake than hanging out with a bunch of drunk teenagers.

I guess me and Scott were different. Well I was. I wasn’t the girly girl, or the nerdy goth. Sweet and shy or bubbly and outgoing. No, I was always in the middle, always being pulled in two different directions.

So here I stood staring at my bed trying to decide what style I was going to wear. Who was I going to become?

Why was I worried about my clothes so much? Because I had to have something that told others who I was.

I was just as much in the middle on the outside I was on the inside.

Everything about me was average. Average height. 5’4, average weight at 170. I have brown eyes only a few shades lighter than my brothers. Brown medium length hair that has just enough body it wouldn't stay straight and not enough waves to hold a curl. Like I said I was average.

My thoughts were cut off by a strange sound coming from outside. Glancing out the window I didn't see anything making me leave to go find Scott.

I jumped, seeing him in the hallway holding a bat.

“Did you hear something outside?” Both of us ask at the same time, making me giggle and Scott look unamused.

“Let's go check it out. I'm right behind you.” I say, holding on to his hoodie.

He smiles and shakes his head at the thing I've done since we were toddlers and starts walking towards the front door and outside.

Rounding the corner of the house my heart nearly stops when someone hangs from the roof Scott yelling along with the culprit until we all realize it's Stiles.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Scott says, sounding annoyed as he puts his bat down.

“You weren't answering your phone. Why do you have a bat?”

“I thought you were a predator.”

“A pre…what?” Stiles says, the look of confusion and shock on his face makes me giggle.

“Hey Harper.” He says smiling at me.

“Hi.” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear and smiling back.

I'm sure it was no surprise that I had a crush on my brother's best friend but it was kinda hard not to. He was funny and just the sweetest person.

“Look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called-- they're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even state police.”

“For what?” Both me and Scott say that at the same time but with opposite reactions.

Where Scott had a frown on his face I had a look of curiosity. I guess you could say I got my rambunctiousness from Stiles, us always getting into trouble together.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” Stiles says, the glee of mischievous clear in his eyes.

Stiles lifts himself untangling from the trellis and drops to his feet in front of us.

“Like a dead body?” Scott asked, confused and horrified.

Stiles moves to lean on the railing of the porch looking at Scott like he's dump.

“No, a body of water.” He says, sarcastically, making me snort out a laugh which he smiles at making me look down to hide my blush.

“Yes, dumbass a dead body.” He says rolling his eyes and climbs over the railing to join us on the porch.

“Were they murdered?” I ask, the nosy side of me coming out.

“Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

“That's horrible.” I say, frowning.

“Hold on.” Scott says, both of us looking at him.

“If they found the body, then what are they looking for?”

Stiles practically grins, tickled with the drama of the night.

“That's the best part- They only found half.” He says, his face growing serious.

“We're going.”

“I'll grab my shoes.” I say turning towards the house.

“What? No you're not going and neither am I. I have tryouts tomorrow.” Scott says grabbing my arm to stop me.

“Oh come on Scott it's the last night of summer break let's do something fun.” I pout, sticking out my bottom lip.

“I got this. Go get your shoes.” Stiles says placing a hand on each of our shoulders.

“Thank you.” I say, moving back into the house.

I jog up the steps not worried about the noise. Mom was working tonight so there wasn't anymore in the house.

Ignoring the tightening of my asthmatic lungs I start to grab my shoes until I see myself in the mirror.

I was in pajamas. No makeup, not even a bra on.

Blushing, realizing Stiles saw me like that I quickly moved to my bed to fix the situation.

I grab the first thing my hand touches and get dressed. I didn't really care about the no makeup thing but I at least needed a bra on.

Pulling on my shoes I grab my inhaler and rush back downstairs seeing the boys getting in Stiles' jeep.

“Wait for me.” I call out to them, my lungs already bothering me.

“You okay?” Stiles asks, looking me up and down.

“Fine. Just outta shape.” I laugh climbing into the back of his jeep and taking a puff of my inhaler.

Getting inside Stiles starts the engine and away we go.

Pulling up outside of the beacon hills preserve Stiles stops the car tuning it off.

“Are we seriously doing this?” Scott asks, looking over at his best friend.

“Come on brother, live a little.” I say grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

“How many energy drinks did you have today?” He asks, looking back at me.

“Umm three why?” I ask, holding up three fingers.

“I told you I planned on pulling an all-nighter so I could work on my style.” I say, waving my hands down myself.

“I think you look great.” Stiles says, giving me a once over then turning back to my brother.

“Of course we are doing this. You're the one that's always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town.” He says but I'm not really listening.

My heart flutters my cheeks hot as I look at what I'm wearing.

I was in jeans, a T-shirt and a flannel. My hair was in a messy bun. A few stray hairs fell around my face and I had on my glasses instead of my contacts.

I was definitely rocking the nerdy look at the moment but plus one for it if Stiles liked it.

“I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow.” Scott says pulling me back to the convention.

“Right, 'cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort.” Stiles says, almost rolling his eyes.

“No, because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making first line.”

Stiles looks at Scott in disbelief then turns to look at me. Him asking if he's serious with his gaze.

I blush and shrug not knowing what to say

“Hey, that's the spirit! Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.” He says smacking Scott on the shoulder and turning to open the car door.

“We're going to get in so much trouble.” Scott says, looking at me.

“It'll be fun, come on.” I say, turning to hop out of the Jeep and head towards the woods.

We all three walked in silence for a little while. It was a clear night letting us see how to move through the woods without tripping over our own two feet.

“Just out of curiosity, what half of the body are we looking for?” Scott asks, mimicking Stiles' sarcastic tone from before.

“Huh? I didn’t even think about that.” Stiles says, glancing at me with a sheepish look on his face.

“And Uh…What if whoever killed the body is still out here.”

“Also something I didn’t think about.” Stiles says flat out embarrassed.

“You two are going to get me killed.” I say looking at them.

“Me? You were the one who wanted to live a little.” Scott says.

“Well yeah, but…” I trail off not having an answer. We were also starting to climb up a hill. No way would I be able to talk and climb at the same time.

“It’s comforting to know you planned this out with your unusual attention to detail.”

“I know.” Stiles says through labored breathing.

Reaching the top of the hill I bend over holding my knees, my ears ringing as if I've been holding my breath for too long.

I close my eyes not listening to the other two, just focusing on my breathing.

When I lift my head I’m alone. Looking around I see no flash light and I don’t hear anything other than my ragged breathing.

“Guys?” I question, walking forward to catch up with them.

“Scott? Stiles?” I call out my heart rate starting to pick up at the thought of being alone out here.

Hearing a snapping twig I turn to head towards the noise knowing they can’t be too far away from me.

Walking around a large tree I freeze when I see something glowing red in the distance.

Thinking it’s a police car I duck behind a tree not wanting to get in trouble. Stiles Dad would know I was out here with him if he caught me.

I blush at the thought of having to explain that to him.

Hearing rustling leaves I stay perfectly still scared of being found. When the sound stops I let go of the breath I was holding.

Peaking around the tree I see the same red glow yet it’s closer. Right in front of my face and its eyes. A pair of glowing red eyes are only inches from my face.

Them set into the face of a very large animal. I don’t get a chance to look at it before it lunges at me.

I scream as it tears into my skin biting down hard into my shoulder. I try to pull away from it, hitting it as hard as I can.

It lets go and takes off running leaving me there. I jumped up and pushed myself in the opposite direction, scared that whatever it was would come back and finish the job.

I go as fast as I can ignoring my burning lungs scared the thing was right behind me. I don’t slow down even when it starts to rain.

Fear piping through me drives me forward. I don’t stop until I run out into the road the sound of screeching tires and a horn fills the air.

Headlights blinding me as a car stops inches from hitting me. I stand there shaking as the driver door opens and someone walks up to me.

“Are you okay?” Asks the man who got out.

He is taller than me, his broad shoulders making him seem a lot bigger than me as well.

“I…It..something is out there.” I say my eyes burning as tears start to run down my cheeks.

He doesn't say anything, his eyes jumping to my shoulder. I could feel the warm trail of blood running down my back.

I let out a hiss when he lifts what’s left of my ripped flannel off my shoulder.

“What happened?” He asks, looking at me, his jaw clenched.

“I don’t know. Something bit me.” I sniffle out.

“Okay. Come one I’ll give you a ride home.” He says, wrapping his arm around me.

I let him, feeling scared but not as scared as I was in those woods moments ago. He opens the passenger door and helps me get in.

I wrap my arms around myself as he jogs around the front of the car and gets behind the wheel.

We don’t speak as we drive back towards town. I sit there shaking the heat cranked up.

“Do you, uh, want to talk about it?” He says, clearly not used to comforting people by the tone in his voice.

“I don’t even know what happened.” I say, staring at the dash.

He didn't say anything, the ride to my house was silent after I told him the address. I should have gone to the hospital but I didn’t want to worry my mom or get any one in trouble.

I get out of his car when he pulls up the crack of thunder sounding overhead, the rain only increasing.

Wrapping my arms around myself I head towards the door surprised when he gets out.

“Thank you.” I say looking at him.

He nods, handing me a paper with scribbled numbers on it.

“I’m Derek.”

“Harper.”

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silvfyre-writings · 2 years ago

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Fukuzawa Struggles to be a Parent (BSD Fanfic)

This was supposed to be another 3 in 1 story, but it uh... kind of got away and just linked itself together? Oh well, haha.

I'm both happy with the way this turned out, but also not. After writing TMAS (which is in present tense) I've struggled to get back into writing past tense, and I think it shows, but I'm also hoping it hasn't showed. But we'll see I guess.

Either way, I hope you all enjoy the story! If you did, feel free to leave a like or a reblog! They truly make my day! :D

Fukuzawa considered himself skilled in many things. He was skilled with the sword, even though it’d been months since he’d last held it in his hands—he still had it of course, kept hidden, but safe, just in case he needed to use it again in the future; which, he hoped not to. He also considered himself skilled in martial arts, and had used the techniques he’d taken the time to learn and master several times over recent months, no thanks to a certain child of course that seemed determined to wind up in trouble more often than not. But for all that he was skilled in, there was one thing that wouldn’t consider himself overly skilled at.

And that was parenting.

Fukuzawa had never planned on having children if his own, had never sought out a relationship to even consider that option in the first place, and he’d certainly never planned on children—well, one child in particular—becoming a part of his life. His previous job as an assassin had made it far too dangerous to care for another person, and his current bodyguard job was no different, yet here he was, with a teenage boy in his care.

A teenage boy that was not like any teenager Fukuzawa had ever encountered in his life; he was yet to know if that was a good or a bad thing. It wasn’t like he’d wanted the boy in the first place—in fact, he’d tried everything to find the boy somewhere else to stay that was better suited to him. But no, Edogawa Ranpo had latched onto Fukuzawa, both physically and emotionally, and there was no getting rid of him.

At first, it’d been hard on the both of them; Fukuzawa didn’t have the space for a growing boy, and Ranpo was more than willing to voice any complaints he had about his new living situation. You’d think, after spending a year on the streets, the kid would be at least a little grateful about having a roof over his head, but oh no, the one bedroom apartment was far too tiny for him. Fukuzawa had shot down Ranpo’s complaints immediately though, stating that he was more than welcome to sleep outside again if he didn’t want to stay with Fukuzawa.

Ranpo had fallen quiet, and taken residence up on the couch for one night, and one night only, before he took over Fukuzawa’s room. Fukuzawa had gone to kick the boy out onto the couch after the third night of losing his futon, only to have the argument die before it could even form when he saw how peaceful Ranpo looked while he slept—how he looked like the child he was supposed to be.

It wasn’t just the new living situation that was a problem either—Fukuzawa had started looking for a bigger apartment to move in to when it became clear that he was stuck with Ranpo—it was everything else that also came attached to the boy. Really, Ranpo should’ve had a neon sign attached to him labelled ‘high maintenance’ because he was, at least by Fukuzawa’s standards. He was almost certain that if he had any actual parenting experience, it wouldn’t be so hard, but he didn’t, so it was. It also didn’t help that Ranpo didn’t tell him whenever there was a problem.

If Fukuzawa cooked something that Ranpo couldn’t stomach, the kid would just stare at the bowl until an opportunity arose to dump the meal.

If Fukuzawa so much as raised his voice or said the wrong thing, Ranpo flinched away from him, and would fall silent whilst Fukuzawa tried to figure out what he’d done wrong.

And if Fukuzawa wanted some time to himself—because he’d spent years alone and now he suddenly wasn’t—then Ranpo would cling to him and not let go until Fukuzawa begrudgingly let him tag along.

But over time, things got better. Fukuzawa and Ranpo moved into a bigger place where they could have their own rooms. He learnt what foods were safe to cook and what ones would be a waste of time. They both learnt how to properly communicate with each other to avoid misunderstandings, and Ranpo’s fears of being abandoned were slowly placated until Fukuzawa could finally leave the house for some peace without worry.

One thing that did not get better though, was Ranpo’s social skills.

Ranpo was intelligent; he knew it, Fukuzawa knew it, which meant that everyone they ever met also had to know about it. Which often led to… complex situations. Passerby’s could be placated with a few words, and a speedy escape, and store clerks were avoided until a suitable amount of time passed where the incident had been forgotten about in the first place. But the police force… that wasn’t as easy to deal with.

Being a genius capable of solving crimes in less than a minute, Ranpo had quickly made a name for himself in doing so, and was often requested by the police to come to various crime scenes and give his opinions with Fukuzawa trailing behind on bodyguard duty, because despite his best efforts, Ranpo was still a scrawny boy who could easily be knocked over by a gust of wind.

However…

Ranpo’s intellect, along with his inability to be socially aware in the slightest, often led to clashes with the officers in charge of the crime scenes. Words of ‘how stupid can you be?’ and ‘even a toddler could solve this’ thrown about without any regard to the feelings of others, Fukuzawa was often left doing damage control, doing his best to calm down officers that grew irate and upset at Ranpo’s words. Most of the time he succeeded, and the rest of the time they spent at the crime scene went by without further problems, but sometimes, he would fail, and they’d be thrown off the crime scene entirely.

And no matter how many times he warned Ranpo to watch what he said to others and to consider how others might feel in regards to his harsh words, Ranpo never learnt, and continued to berate and ridicule those around him when they couldn’t find the answer as fast as him.

Yeah, Fukuzawa didn’t have a handle on this parenting gimmick in the slightest.

“Fukuzawa-san, I’m bored.” Ranpo sighed, nearly throwing himself off the couch as he leaned out the back of it to watch as Fukuzawa read the newspaper at the dining table.

“And?” Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow, placing his finger at where he’d been reading before looking up to make eye contact with Ranpo. “You have the means of occupying yourself.”

“Yeah, but, they’re boring. Don’t we have any cases?”

“No, we don’t. We haven’t since the last time you asked me that either.” It was Fukuzawa’s turn to sigh, and he closed the paper in his hands, knowing that he wasn’t going to get a chance to continue reading, not when Ranpo was in such a mood. “You’d probably get more requests if you were a bit nicer to the officers.”

Ranpo’s face scrunched up in disapproval. “Bah, why? If they want me to be nice, than they shouldn’t be so stupid, should they?”

Fukuzawa sighed again. This was an argument that he’d long accepted he wasn’t going to win, but it didn’t stop him from trying at least. Maybe one day, Ranpo would understand what it was that he was getting at, but until that day came, it was his job to try and guide Ranpo to the solution.

“What? I’m not wrong. Even you thought that last officer we worked with was being stupid.”

“I may have thought he was… foolish, but I elected not to say it to his face. Unlike you.” Fukuzawa levelled Ranpo with a look, and took satisfaction when Ranpo actually looked like he regretted his words just a few days ago. “We were barred from the crime scene before we’d even set foot onto it.”

Ranpo gained a sullen look, and his face disappeared from view as he returned to sitting properly on the couch. There was a silence, and the sound of fidgeting before a quiet voice drifted towards him. “It’s not my fault that adults are so complex. I’m trying my best.”

Fukuzawa bit back the sigh that was seconds away from voicing itself. “I know. Just… try not to insult them so much when they don’t understand you, alright?”

Ranpo nodded, but didn’t say anything more.

He could only hope that the boy took his words to heart for a change.

Ranpo did, but he also didn’t, take Fukuzawa’s words to heart; he still insulted the officers of the cases they worked on, but he kept the insults more… tame; well, tame by Ranpo standards at least. Fukuzawa wanted to tell Ranpo to take it that one step further and cease the insults entirely, but he knew when to pick his battles, and right now, he’d take mild insults over what it had been previously. He’d try again in a couple of weeks; for now, he’d just settle for playing damage control.

“Oh great, who invited the brat?” Fukuzawa’s eye twitched at the displeasure in the young police officer’s voice as he and Ranpo approach the crime scene they’d been asked to attend. The officer in question was doing nothing to hide how much he disliked Ranpo’s presence. He wasn’t one that Fukuzawa recognized, and looked a bit on the young side. A new officer perhaps?

Ranpo didn’t notice, striding straight past the officer and Fukuzawa without a care in the world. “The greatest detective in the world is here! Try and keep up with me if you can, haha!”

Fukuzawa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose at Ranpo’s antics. He could see some of the officers—the older ones—rolling their eyes, but only a few seemed to actually take offense to Ranpo’s words. Good, maybe they’re finally understanding this is just how he is. He was thankful, when the officer in charge—one of the ones that’d rolled their eyes—approached Ranpo and began running through the case with the boy. This was where Fukuzawa would take a step back, and observe as the crime unfolded itself beneath Ranpo’s eyes; Fukuzawa considered himself observant, and quite often, managed to at least keep up with Ranpo at times, but he was nowhere near the level of skill that the kid possessed.

While Ranpo continued to spout off his deductions and reasons behind them, Fukuzawa made sure to stay close—just because the crime scene was sealed off from public eyes, didn’t always mean that it was safe. There’d been too many times, where there’d been a close call with Ranpo and an unhappy criminal, so Fukuzawa had taken to sticking close to Ranpo, but not so close that he was overbearing.

“What do you mean, ‘it was suicide’? He was murdered, we have evidence!” The officer from before interrupted, cutting Ranpo off from what he was saying. The officer’s glare was filled with animosity as he stormed up to Ranpo, coming to a stop just in front of the kid.

Both Fukuzawa and Ranpo frowned at the interruption, but only Ranpo chose to say anything about it. “What? Are you that stupid you can’t see a set up when it’s right in front of you? It obviously wasn’t a murder, even if all the evidence you found pointed towards it being one.”

“If it’s a set-up then who was the victim setting up and why?” The officer asked, fists clenched angrily as Ranpo insulted him.

Oh no. Fukuzawa could already see how this was going to go, and he stepped just that little bit closer. Just in case.

“His best friend.” Ranpo said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, and he frowned at the officer. “They had an argument over some stupid thing that the friend owned, so the victim took his parents credit cards, bought all the ‘evidence’ and then set it all up to look like a murder before killing himself in a way that made it look like he’d been murdered. Although, he probably didn’t intend to actually die, but make it look like he’d died, and then ended up actually dying.”

“That’s bullshit. There’s no way that that’s possible! He killed himself, but he didn’t want to? What kind of novel do you think we live in?”

Ranpo continued to stare at the officer with an annoyed look, and then sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “It did happen, I know it did. My skill doesn’t lie after all, but you are new, so I guess I can’t expect you to know just how great my skill is yet—”

“I don’t give a shit about some skill you have. There’s no way a skill exists like that! If there was, then there’d be no point in even having us here!”

Ranpo blinked. “Why do you think they call me every time you idiots can’t do—”

Fukuzawa reacts, but not fast enough to stop the officer from letting out a shout and throwing his fist, watching helplessly as it connects with the side of Ranpo’s face, cutting the boy off from whatever he’d been saying. Ranpo yelped, throwing out his arms to catch himself as the force of the punch sent him to the ground. He hits the ground, just as Fukuzawa grabs the arm of the officer to stop him from lashing out again.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, Oshikawa?” The head officer—Yamamoto was his name—jogged over with an unimpressed look on his face.

“Sir! He was disrespecting the police force!” Oshikawa shouted, face red in anger as he pulled free of Fukuzawa’s grip to face his supervisor.

“He always does that!” Yamamoto retorted. “We accept that whenever he place a call for his assistance. I even warned you before they arrived what he was like, so what do you think you’re doing hitting him?”

“But he—”

“He’s a child, Oshikawa. If you have a problem with Edogawa—” Yamamoto moved his arm to directly point at Fukuzawa, who froze from where he’d been moving to check on Ranpo. “—then you tell Fukuzawa-san and he’ll deal with it. Not you, and not me either—”

Fukuzawa tuned out the argument now that he knew it was being dealt with and hurried over to kneel beside Ranpo, wanting to make sure that his ward wasn’t hurt too bad. “Are you alright, Ranpo?”

Ranpo turned his head to look up at Fukuzawa. There are tears forming in his eyes, although Ranpo seemed to be forcing them back through sheer will, and the red mark rapidly forming on his face promised to become an impressive bruise later. His hands were scuffed and bleeding slightly as well from where Ranpo had had to catch himself against the dirt, and the boy is holding them close to his chest. Ranpo sniffed unhappily. “He hit me!”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?” It’s an accusation, and a well deserved one at that. Fukuzawa should have been able to stop Oshikawa’s fist before it even connected in the first place.

“I didn’t expect the biggest threat to be an officer.” Fukuzawa said, trying to placate Ranpo before upset himself even further. “I apologize though, I should’ve paid closer attention. I saw him getting angry and didn’t react accordingly.”

Ranpo nodded after taking a couple of minutes to ponder over Fukuzawa’s words. He doesn’t say anything more, so Fukuzawa took it as a sign to help Ranpo up, and guided the boy to his feet, making sure to only grab Ranpo by the elbows, because until they can get home, he had no idea how hurt Ranpo actually was.

“Fukuzawa-san, I apologize for Oshikawa’s actions. He will be dealt with accordingly.” Yamamoto sighed as he approached, coming to a stop when Ranpo ducked behind Fukuzawa in order to hide himself. “We appreciate the both of you coming out, so if you wish to leave, you may do so.”

“Thank you, we’ll do that.” Fukuzawa didn’t wait another moment before he guided Ranpo away from the crime scene and the two of them begin to head back home.

Ranpo is silent as they walk, and his head his pointed at the ground, Fukuzawa’s hand on his back the only reason that the kid doesn’t trip over his own feet or walk into something—or someone. Fukuzawa too, remained silent; if Ranpo didn’t want to talk until they were back home, then he was willing to wait. It shouldn’t take them too long to get home anyway; they’d walked to the crime scene this time instead of taking public transport, a decision that Fukuzawa had begun to regret.

I knew something like this would happen… Fukuzawa thought as they walked, letting his mind play back the incident so he could devise a plan on how to handle it. There’d been many a time where Ranpo had irritated officers to the point of aggression, but they’d always restrained themselves, or taken it out on some poor inanimate object—never had one of them physically struck Ranpo. He glanced down at Ranpo, able to see the impact the officer’s fist had left; a red mark that reminded Fukuzawa of the last time Ranpo had been struck in such a manner.

When he was the one to strike the boy.

And while he knew that the situations were completely different, that when he’d slapped Ranpo, it had been something he’d done out of fear of the boy not understanding just how close he’d been to losing his life. It’d still been wrong, and he’d apologized for it several times over since they’d started living under the same roof, and Ranpo had never seemed overly bothered by it, but it would be something that Fukuzawa always regretted.

But this? This was nothing but anger and cruelty, and Ranpo had done nothing to deserve being hit by someone that was supposed to protect kids like him. Yes, he probably could’ve tried harder to get Ranpo to understand why he needed to be kinder to people, and he should’ve talked to him about it before they’d entered the crime scene just to remind him. Doing that may have prevented this from even happening in the first place.

That was why Fukuzawa didn’t consider himself to be the ideal parent to this child.

“Let me see?” Fukuzawa asked gently as he came to sit on the table he’d dragged closer to the couch just so he could do so. The first-aid kit he’d brought with him is placed beside him as he reached out to grab one of Ranpo’s hands, now clean and free from dirt and grit, but it’s not the hands he’d been asking about.

Ranpo let out a whine, but pulled away the ice pack he’d been holding against his face for several minutes now, revealing the mark underneath. The injury had begun to swell on the way home, and Ranpo had complained a little about how it was hurting, but he hadn’t said anything more when Fukuzawa had tried to ask. Fukuzawa leaned closer, eyes narrowing as he studied the injury. Ranpo’s eye was puffy and nearly swollen shut, and there was some dried blood on Ranpo’s nose where the skin had been split, and the surrounding skin was already starting to bruise. Ranpo replaced the ice pack when Fukuzawa pulled away and went back to disinfecting the scrapes on Ranpo’s palms. “Ow…”

“Sorry.” Fukuzawa apologized, lightening his touch just that little bit. “Your face doesn’t look too bad, considering how hard he hit you.”

“It hurts.” Ranpo grumbled.

“Getting punched tends to.”

“You don’t sound very sympathetic right now.” Ranpo pulled his hands away once Fukuzawa finished bandaging them and watched as he got up to throw away the supplies he’d used with a cautious look

Fukuzawa sighed as he moved about the kitchen, grabbing some painkillers before he returned, sitting on the couch beside Ranpo this time as he handed the pills over. “I’ve warned you before to watch what you say when interacting with the police, so you are at fault for what happened, but—”

“So what? I deserved to get hit?” Ranpo interrupted, glaring up at Fukuzawa angrily. “That’s stupid!”

“If you’d let me finish.” Fukuzawa narrowed his eyes at the interruption. Ranpo ducked his head and refused to meet his eyes as he continued to speak. “It was your fault for antagonizing the man, but it was his fault for resorting to violence. It is never okay to hit someone, no matter how much they push your buttons.”

Ranpo was silent for a moment before he looked up at Fukuzawa with uncertainty. “You hit me, once.”

“An action I will forever regret.” Fukuzawa admitted, shifting to drape an arm across Ranpo’s shoulders. “And one that I have already apologized for several times over.”

“Why did you hit me then?”

Fukuzawa frowned, trying to understand just what it was that Ranpo was trying to get at. They’d already talked about that night extensively, and the emotions that had—ah. Realization dawned on him then, that Ranpo was trying to find the non-existent link between the two incidents, since both had resulted in Ranpo being hit. “You don’t understand why you were hit, do you?”

Ranpo jerked in his seat, cheeks turning red, and Fukuzawa knew he’d figured it out. A genius, he may not be, but he was learning. Ranpo nodded. “I don’t get what I did. I solved the crime for them just like I always do.”

“The issue isn’t in you solving the crimes, it’s in your attitude when you speak with them.” Ranpo looked at him in confusion and Fukuzawa faltered. This wasn’t a conversation he was confident in having. “Some people... don’t react well when you call them stupid or an idiot. Or when you tell them that they aren’t smart enough to figure things out when you do it in a few seconds.”

“I have an ability—” Ranpo began.

“But the officers you work with do not.” Fukuzawa pushed on as if Ranpo hadn’t even spoken, giving the boy a look to make sure that he listened. “They are all people without gifts who are plenty smart, but simply need more time to figure things out. They would have figured out that death in the end if we hadn’t been invited. It may have taken them longer, but they would’ve.”

Ranpo remained silent.

“What I’m getting at, Ranpo, is you need to be a little more aware when it comes to dealing with people. The officers are starting to learn about you and your antics, but not everyone you work with or meet is going to be like them. You’ll come across people—like Oshikawa—who will lash out suddenly, and you’ll find yourself getting hurt.”

“But… they are being stupid…?” Ranpo frowned, tugging at the bandages around his hands. “Why are they getting mad… when I tell them the truth?”

“Sometimes the truth hurts more than it helps, and that’s something you have to learn.” Fukuzawa said, and watched as Ranpo sighed and hunched in on himself like he was prone to doing when he was unhappy. “I’ll help you, okay? And if you never understand it, that’s fine, I’ll make sure to stop any further punches before they happen.”

That draws a laugh from Ranpo, and a smile, and Fukuzawa figured he’d finally done something right.

Fukuzawa should’ve known that that one run in with the police wouldn’t have been the end of it, that it would be the catalyst that would confirm just what his role in Ranpo’s life was supposed to be, and that it would be the reason into allowing him to finally understand the boy he’d taken into his care only a few months ago.

“I don’t want to.” Ranpo huffed and turned away from Fukuzawa, with a pout that did nothing but make him look like a temperamental child. Which, technically, Ranpo still was, but that was beside the point. The point was, that Fukuzawa had been arguing with the boy for several minutes now, trying to get him to accept the latest job that the police had offered, only to be refused and rejected no matter what bribery he tried.

“Ranpo…” Fukuzawa sighed, raising a hand to drag it down his face. He was about to tell Ranpo to accept the job, when he paused and decided to take a different approach. “Why don’t you want to take this job?”

Ranpo hesitated before he rolled over and looked somewhere that was in the direction of his face, but not directly making eye contact. “That Oshikawa officer is the one asking.”

“I see…” Now it made sense why Ranpo was so hesitant, what with the memory of being punched still fresh in the boy’s mind, even though it’d happened almost a month ago at this point. Fukuzawa didn’t blame Ranpo for feeling the way he was; but the officer had apologized—even though he’d sounded reluctant to be doing so—and Ranpo had, surprisingly, apologized in return. The incident was behind them, or at least, Fukuzawa had thought that was the case. “As long as you mind yourself, and stick close to me, you’ll be fine.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Ranpo muttered.

“I am on your side, Ranpo, but you cannot let one bad experience stop you from working.” Fukuzawa said with a raised eyebrow. He watched as Ranpo turned away from him once again, and bit back the sigh that threatened to follow. It really was hard, trying to figure out how to best handle the moods that Ranpo often found himself in. What would soothe him one time, would make him angry the next; it was like playing a game with an unbeatable boss; there was no right way of ‘winning’.

But, Fukuzawa had made a promise to Ranpo the night after he’d taken him in, that he’d take care of him and keep him safe from those that didn’t understand him. And if Ranpo didn’t feel safe going to the crime scene, then there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He sighed. “If you really don’t want to take the job, I won’t pressure you into it. We can stay in today if you’d like.”

Ranpo turned back to face him, with a grateful look on his face that told Fukuzawa all he needed to know, so he moved away for a moment and explained to the officer on that had been waiting patiently on the other end of the line, that Ranpo was unavailable to take the case, and in an even quieter voice, explained why he wasn’t taking the case. Oshikawa seemed to understand and thanked him, even if he sounded a bit disheartened to hear Ranpo’s decision.

Hopefully, Fukuzawa’s explanation would be enough for the man to understand that if he wanted Ranpo’s help in the future, it would be best to get someone else to make the request.

It was another week before Ranpo took on another case he was requested on, but the entire time he was at the crime scene, his eyes would flick between the officers that were also at the scene, apprehensive, as if he feared one of them would lash out at him. The boy had also taken to pretty much standing on top of Fukuzawa, sticking so close to him that Fukuzawa was surprised he could even breathe. But he didn’t tell Ranpo to give him space, or to stop being frightened, because that wouldn’t do anything but make it worse; he just stood tall and firm, and allowed the teen to cling to him.

Ranpo seemed to have finally taken his words to heart as well, for the insults against the police and their supposed incompetence died down greatly, the insults only slipping out when they were actually due—when Fukuzawa too, agreed that the police were being idiotic in their guesses. It was only when they were heading home from cases, that Ranpo would speak his mind, telling Fukuzawa about everything he’d thought but hadn’t said, and after he was done ranting, Fukuzawa would smile and tell him he was proud of keeping his thoughts to himself.

It didn’t last long though, and as time passed, and the punching incident was pushed behind them, Ranpo began to fall back into old habits, but unlike before, the police didn’t seem to care about Ranpo’s sometimes cruel insults—most of the time they ignored the words as if they hadn’t been said in the first place, but those that did react, would just loudly shout Ranpo’s name and walk away. Ranpo always looked confused when that happened, but quickly put two and two together and learnt that when it did happen, it meant he’d gone too far for that particular officer, and he’d tone it down.

It was a bit of a strange dynamic, but it seemed to be working, so Fukuzawa wasn’t going to complain.

“We have a bit of a complicated case here today.” The officer in charge explained as he allowed Ranpo and Fukuzawa to enter the most recent crime they’d been called out to solve. “We’ve been unable to determine the cause of death, so it’s left us a little out of the loop.”

Ranpo opened his mouth, yelping instead as Fukuzawa gave him a harsh nudge, a warning look on his own face. Ranpo frowned, but changed what he’d been able to say earlier. “Well, that’s why I’m here isn’t it? To… help you figure that out.”

If the officer was surprised at Ranpo’s words, he didn’t show it, and instead, led them towards the body.

It was only because of his past occupation, that Fukuzawa didn’t flinch back at the sight of the body, the state of it leaving much to be desired, with no discernible features, and like the officer had said, a clear uncertainty as to what it was that had killed them. At first glance, it looked like the gunshot wound to the head was what had killed them, but then a further look revealed deep gashes up the forearms that could’ve just as easily been the cause of death with how much blood there was. But then there were other things that could also have been the cause of death, and Fukuzawa understood why the police were having so much trouble with it.

He watched as Ranpo studied the body for a moment, glasses already perched on his face. He could almost see the gears turning in Ranpo’s head as he ran through all the information that he was taking in right now. The rest of the officers were watching intensely, because as much as they were at odds with Ranpo’s personality, none of them could refute the skill the boy had in finding the things they had missed.

One minute passed, then two, then five, and still, Ranpo had said nothing. Fukuzawa stepped closer, able to see the growing panic on Ranpo’s face as the boy’s eyes flicked up to meet his own. “What is it, Ranpo?”

“I… I don’t know.” Ranpo removed the glasses as if they were the reason he couldn’t figure it out, and then placed them back on his face. “There’s no cause of death.”

“That’s not possible, something had to have killed them!” One of the officers exclaimed. “Are you sure you’re using that ability of yours correctly?”

But it’s not an ability. Fukuzawa thought as Ranpo shouted. “Of course I am! And I’m telling you, there’s no cause of death!”

“Then what killed them?”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s enough.” The officer in charge spoke, coming to place a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder. “It’s okay if you can’t figure it out. You’re still just a kid, and I’m sure your ability has limits you don’t know about yet. We’ll take over from here. Thanks for coming out.”

“But—” Ranpo sputtered, eyes wide as he frantically looked between the body and the officer again and again. “I can solve this!”

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa interrupted, stepping forward to guide Ranpo away. “We’ve been asked to leave. We can’t do anything more here.”

“We’ll contact you if another body shows up.” The officer said, walking away to fall into discussion with the rest of his team, even though they didn’t understand the situation any better.

Meanwhile, Fukuzawa led Ranpo away, keeping a watchful eye on the boy as they walked. He didn’t like the look in the kid’s eyes; it reminded him too much of when he’d first met Ranpo, when the kid hadn’t been able to understand that he was different from the rest of the world and thought that everyone was making one big joke of him, when he’d thought of everyone else as monsters. Fukuzawa kept his hand on Ranpo’s shoulder as a way of providing him support; this was the first time that Ranpo hadn’t been able to figure out a case before, so he wasn’t sure how Ranpo would handle it in the first place.

He wasn’t surprised at all when they got home and Ranpo pulled away to shut himself in the bathroom.

Ranpo didn’t come out for the rest of the day.

That body ended up only being the first of many bodies. There was another body that popped up a few days later, and like before, Ranpo was called out to assist. But like before, Ranpo had been unable to figure it out, and he’d returned home looking even more dejected than before. And then there was a third body, and then a fourth, with no answer still as to what was killing these people. And with every body that showed up, it was easy to see how frustrated Ranpo was becoming; he snapped at the officers for more information and grew angry when they had none to give, he stared at the body for minutes on end—the longest being a full hour—hoping to find the one thing that would help him figure out what he was missing, only to gain nothing.

The worst part, Fukuzawa found, was watching as Ranpo pulled away from him. The moment they got home from the crime scenes, Ranpo would go to his room or the bathroom and just hide away until the next day, and no amount of coaxing seemed to be enough to get him to come out and talk to him. Fukuzawa didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle this. Ever since he’d first met Ranpo, the kid had always been able to see straight into the truth of matters, so to see him stumped like this… it wasn’t easy.

Any attempt that Fukuzawa tried to make at talking to Ranpo about it, even to just offer another set of eyes that might help find a clue, was met with straight up refusal, Ranpo either changing the subject or just rapidly leaving the room.

“What if it’s an ability?” One of the younger officers suggested on the seventh body that appeared. Immediately, all the heads in the vicinity snapped towards the officer, including Fukuzawa and Ranpo, who’d been called out despite being of no help the last six times they’d been called for. The officer faltered at the sudden attention, but continued to explain himself. “We’ve—We’ve seen it before, where despite an obviously murdered body, there appeared to be no actual crime, and it turned out to be because an ability was at work. It could be a similar case here.”

“If it’s an ability, then wouldn’t Edogawa have seen through it with his own ability?” Another officer speaks up, and the attention is thrown onto Ranpo, who remained crouched beside the body, refusing to lift his head, although he was clearly paying attention to what was being said. Fukuzawa stepped closer to the kid, uncertainty filling him at the direction this conversation was taking. The last thing he wanted was the police to start throwing accusations that Ranpo didn’t have an ability at all—which was true, but only Fukuzawa knew that.

“Edogawa’s ability probably needs information to work properly, but if there’s no information to gleam, then that would explain why his ability hasn’t been working.”

“You would be right!” Ranpo smiled and leapt to his feet, hands on his hips. To anyone else he looked ever the confident and arrogant boy he was, but Fukuzawa could see through him; Ranpo was bluffing. “But now that I know there’s an ability involved, I know who you’re looking for!”

“You do?” The young officer asked. “But it’s not a guarantee that—”

“Have I ever been wrong before?” Ranpo interrupted. Silence and shakes of heads greeted him. “That’s what I thought! It’s an ability, one that—”

“We’ve got him! The killer!” An officer shouted. “We caught him in a warehouse a few blocks over, in the middle of trying to kill someone!”

“How was he killing the victims?” Another called out, and several officers joined in with the questions, desperate to know the truth.

“Some complex machine. Apparently he’s a former engineer or something—”

Fukuzawa stopped listening then, eyes swinging towards Ranpo, who looked very much like his world had just come crashing down, because he’d just been telling the police that the killer was killing these people with the help of an ability.

Only to find out that it wasn’t an ability at all.

“Do you still need us here?” Fukuzawa asked the head officer.

The officer looked at him with a frown. “No, but—”

“I’ll be taking Ranpo home then.” Fukuzawa doesn’t give the man a chance to speak, and walks away before he can try and convince Fukuzawa to hang around a little longer. He knew it was rude, and that his actions would raise questions, but he wasn’t focused on that. No, he was focused on getting Ranpo out of there before the kid had a complete breakdown over the fact that for the first time in his life, he’d been wrong.

Ranpo didn’t say a word as Fukuzawa grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet, and followed behind obediently as Fukuzawa led the two of them away from the scene. They weren’t going home, not yet. There was something that Fukuzawa needed to say, but it wasn’t something he could very well say in the presence of police; Ranpo seemed to understand that something was happening because he remained silent, and didn’t say anything, even as Fukuzawa turned down a side alley and let go of him.

“You cannot lie to the police to protect your pride.” Fukuzawa didn’t yell, because yelling never helped, and Ranpo was already spooked enough. “You’re lucky that they caught the man before they had the chance to believe you, because then someone innocent could’ve ended up behind bars.”

“But I—”

“No buts, Ranpo!” Fukuzawa placed his hands on Ranpo’s shoulders and forced the boy to look at him. His touch was gentle, but still, Ranpo flinched under it. “You cannot lie. Not to the police, and especially not when murder is involved. The police trust you when they ask you for help. Lie to them and you’ll break that trust.”

“But I’m never wrong!” Ranpo cried out, and suddenly, there were tears forming in the boy’s eyes, and his lower lip was trembling. “I’ve never been wrong before. I can’t be wrong!”

Fukuzawa sighed, and brought Ranpo close to him. He really didn’t know how to handle this. Ranpo was such a complex child on the best of days, but had never outright failed at something before. Fukuzawa had a very strong feeling that the usual placations wouldn’t be enough to soothe him this time, but he’d still try. “Ranpo, you were wrong, and that’s okay. There will be times where you are wrong, where someone gets the better of you. It just so happened that this criminal was a little sma—”

“No! I don’t get it!” Ranpo interrupted, throwing his arms around Fukuzawa, and burying his face into his yukata. There weren’t any tears, not yet at least, but with the way Ranpo’s voice cracked as he spoke, they couldn’t be far away. “I am special! I am gifted! I’m supposed to see the truth to any crime!”

Fukuzawa winced at Ranpo’s words. The smart decision would be to try and tell Ranpo that he wasn’t actually an ability user, that he was just a regular boy that was insanely intelligent. But Fukuzawa wasn’t a smart man, and right now, the child he was supposed to take care of was in his arms, visibly distressed. He couldn’t add to that distress, even though it would probably help in the long run. So, he tightened his hold on Ranpo and brought him closer. “I know, Ranpo. But even gifts have limits, even yours.”

Ranpo sniffed, but kept his face hidden; not that Fukuzawa needed to see it to feel the tears that slowly stained his clothes.

Ranpo hid in the bathroom the moment they crossed the entryway into their shared apartment, and Fukuzawa watched the boy run off with a pensive look on his own face. Ranpo hadn’t cried for long before he’d wiped his eyes and began to walk, although he’d still looked upset. Fukuzawa had tried to cheer him up by offering to buy him some sweets, but Ranpo didn’t even respond to him. And he’d remained that way the entire journey. Fukuzawa had to admit, it scared him a little. He hadn’t seen Ranpo in such a state since the boy had come into his care, and he didn’t know what to do to help him. And it wasn’t like he knew anyone that could even help him—the few people he’d acquainted himself with were about as good with children as he was.

So, Fukuzawa resigned himself to doing one of the few things he thought might help; cook a simple dinner. He’d cook a meal and use that to coax Ranpo out of the bathroom and then sit the boy on the couch and try and talk to him again. And if Ranpo still didn’t want to talk to him, then that was fine too; they could try again tomorrow. Fukuzawa pottered around the kitchen, putting together one of the simple meals he usually made—one that took maybe ten minutes tops—and separated the dish into two servings.

Normally, Fukuzawa would make Ranpo eat at the dinner table with him, but just this once, he was feeling indulgent, and took the bowl with him as he went to try and coax Ranpo out. If he failed, he’d leave the bowl outside the door, instead of the microwave like he usually would. “Ranpo? I have some food for you.”

No answer, although Fukuzawa could hear soft, muffled cries from within the room. His stomach clenched, and he wanted nothing more than to throw the door open and comfort Ranpo, but the door was closed for a reason, and Fukuzawa wasn’t about to break into the safe space that Ranpo had chosen for himself. “Would you like to come out and eat with me?”

Still no answer.

“Alright…” Fukuzawa sighed, and placed the bowl just beside the door. “I’ve left your dinner outside here. Please try and eat some of it.”

He walked away, back towards the kitchen to grab his own meal when he heard the click of the bathroom door and glanced over his shoulder to see a small hand reach out and grab the bowl, the door shutting again. Good, a meal will help him feel better. But even though he knew that Ranpo was eating, he couldn’t dispel the worry that had built in his chest, and kept one eye on the bathroom door as he ate, silently hoping that Ranpo would come out.

But he didn’t, and the sounds from within the bathroom had ceased, so Fukuzawa could only assume that the boy had fallen asleep in there, and cracked open the door to find that he had been correct. Ranpo lay, curled up on the floor with a flushed face and tear stained cheeks. Silently, Fukuzawa stepped into the room and carefully lifted Ranpo into his arms before taking the boy to his own room, and tucking him into bed, making sure that Ranpo was buried underneath the absurd amount of blankets that the boy kept on his bed.

Fukuzawa took a moment to study Ranpo while he slept, observing how, even in sleep, the boy still seemed bothered by something. Today probably affected him more than he realizes. Fukuzawa sighed as he left the room, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click before making his way to his own room. He was almost certain that today was only the start of something bigger; he didn’t yet know what, but there was a feeling in his gut that was telling him to prepare himself.

So he would. He would watch and observe, and be there if he was needed.

For two days, Ranpo remained in his room, and ignored every attempt that Fukuzawa made in trying to talk to him. Fukuzawa tried not to let it bother him too much, assuming that Ranpo wanted some space to work through whatever was going through his mind. Trying to force Ranpo to talk to him would do nothing but make the boy shrink away from him further. He had to remember that they’d only been living together for a few months; not nearly enough time to have the level of trust that was probably needed in this situation. Because, despite Ranpo’s overly trusting nature, the boy wasn’t actually that trusting, even though he did a good job in making you think he trusted you.

Fukuzawa would be patient, though, knowing that when Ranpo was ready to open up, he would. But until then, Fukuzawa would do what he could, and that was make sure that Ranpo knew he was there if he did want to talk, and also make sure that the boy was eating. As far as he knew, Ranpo had holed up in his room without any kind of sustenance, so Fukuzawa always made sure to leave a few sweets on the tray that had taken residence outside the room, along with some water and a few words, before leaving to do some work of his own.

And every time he came to collect the dishes, they were empty, so that was something at least.

It was the middle of the night when Fukuzawa woke, and he didn’t know what it was that had woken him in the first place, but his instincts were screaming at him, the ones that only came to life when something was wrong. And considering that there was nothing wrong with him, and Ranpo was the only other one in the apartment…

Fukuzawa was worried.

He didn’t throw himself out of bed and dash from his room, but he wanted to, wanted nothing more than to hurry and check on Ranpo, but he forced himself to walk calmly, leaving his room to find Ranpo’s bedroom door wide open, and a light coming from the bathroom; the door cracked open just enough to let the light enter the hallway.

“Ranpo?” Fukuzawa called quietly as he came to a stop outside the door. There’s a noise that sounds like a whine, but not quite, from within.

“Leave me alone.” Ranpo said quietly, his voice muffled.

“Are you alright?” Fukuzawa asked, just as quiet.

Silence.

Fukuzawa hovered outside the room for just a moment, weighing up the pros and cons before ultimately deciding to enter the room. He pushed the door open slowly, giving Ranpo plenty of time to protest but the boy didn’t, and Fukuzawa was allowed entry.

Only, he wasn’t sure what to do now.

Ranpo was sat on the floor, back pressed against the tub with his face buried into his knees. At his feet, laid one of the kitchen knives, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why it was there in the first place. Fukuzawa’s breath hitched, which seemed to shake Ranpo out whatever thought he’d found himself lost in, because he looked up at Fukuzawa, his eyes reminiscent of people long since passed; eyes that belonged to people who were tired of life.

Eyes that didn’t belong on a fourteen year old boy.

“I didn’t do anything.” Ranpo murmured, eyes falling onto the blade. “I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

“I believe you.” Fukuzawa entered the room and paused. “May I sit?”

Ranpo nodded and Fukuzawa moved to sit beside the boy. Despite Ranpo’s promise that he hasn’t done anything, Fukuzawa still reached over and took away the temptation. Just in case.

“You could’ve come to me.” Fukuzawa said after the silence had dragged on for a while.

“I wanted to try and figure it out on my own.” Ranpo sighed, falling to the side to rest against Fukuzawa’s side. “I’m feeling things I don’t understand, and it just got too much.”

“So you took a knife to… what exactly?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.” Ranpo huffed, dropping his head back to his knees and winding his arms around them. Fukuzawa was ashamed to admit that he tried to see if there were any wounds on the skin he could see, but was relieved when there were none. “I’ve felt this way before though. Before I met you. It was worse then, though.”

“How worse?” Fukuzawa asked, already fearing the answer.

“I had a plan worse.” Ranpo sighed, a heavy sigh that showed how tired he was. “I haven’t been doing well lately.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Ranpo hummed, and turned his head so he could look Fukuzawa in the eyes. “What if you don’t understand either?”

“I’ll do my best to.”

Another hum before silence descended upon the room, but Fukuzawa waited, knowing that Ranpo was simply trying to find the words that he needed to describe what he was feeling exactly. Fukuzawa already had an idea of what was bothering the boy; memories of angry police, and an unsolvable case coming to mind.

Finally, Ranpo spoke. “I don’t get people… not in the way you and the rest of the adults do. It was the same before we met, and… it got a little better after I found out I had an ability, but now… I feel like I’m right back where I started, and it bothers me. You kept getting mad about how I talked to the police, and they kept getting mad at me… and then those murders happened and you got more mad at me, and I failed, and… I just don’t know anymore.”

Fukuzawa thought over Ranpo’s words for a minute. He really didn’t have any idea on what he should say, how he could soothe Ranpo’s worries and fears without making things worse. The only thing he could really do was tell the truth.

So that’s what he did.

“I don’t have the answers you’re after, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa said, reaching over and wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. Ranpo let out a sigh, but Fukuzawa continued to push on. “I’m doing my best to guide and raise you, but this is all so new to me; I’m not sure I’m handling it correctly. I don’t yet understand you in a way that I can help you through this without making it worse, but… I will do my best as I’ve always tried to do since you’ve come into my care.”

Ranpo leaned into the embrace. “I get it. I think. I also think you’re doing a good job.”

Fukuzawa nodded, glad that Ranpo was approving of the job he’d been doing. Maybe he was finally starting to get a handle on this parenting thing. “We’ll talk, and do some research, and maybe, together we can get through this and figure this whole people and emotions thing out.”

Ranpo huffed a laugh, a small smile on his face. “Together then."

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #edogawa ranpo #fukuzawa yukichi #hurt/comfort #angst #writing #fanfiction #fukudad

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jinkoh · 1 year ago

Text

heartbreak anniversary

jinho x gn reader

summary: you're not quite over your break up with Jinho—but neither is he

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, suggestive, word count: ~2,5k

a/n: guess who really isn't normal about the last magho (and the way he pushes down his hood at 2:45 no i ofc do not know that time stamp by heart haha i'm cool i'm chill) yes it's another joji fic but who is going to write silly little fics about him that i can read before bed if not me? also i know i've used pictures from the same video before but i just couldn't make pictures from the actual magho look nice so 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Masterlist

You tried not to be a sentimental person. Getting so invested in your feelings was surely a waste of energy. But you’d never been good at controlling your emotions. Jinho had been better at that, or at least that’s what he’d liked to say. Maybe it wasn’t always true, but what he’d truly been unbeatable at was snapping you out of your anxiety spirals. It happened often—you had a tendency to overthink and get yourself worked up and Jinho had always, always noticed. He knew how to tiptoe the line between telling you the blunt truth you needed to hear without being too harsh or hurting your feelings. You could probably use that right now.

It was stupid to dwell on the past like this—Jinho would certainly have something to say about that. But you weren’t dating anymore, so it wasn’t like it was any of his business. Surely he wasn’t thinking about you nor about the fact that today was your anniversary; that exactly 3 years ago you’d made it official at that small pavilion by the beach (which honestly wasn’t half as romantic as it sounds like).

No, he surely wasn’t thinking about any of these things. Jinho didn’t have to try not to be a sentimental person. He just wasn’t.

You on the other hand couldn’t think of anything else. You were laying awake even though it was late and you had to work the next day. But you missed him so much, it felt like it was physically tearing you apart. You missed him on his side of the bed, and you missed the way he’d let you cuddle into his chest. The bed felt cold and lonely without him there.

Almost on autopilot, you slipped out from under your warm sheets, and threw on whatever clothes you found laying around before you slipped out into the night.

The walk from your apartment to the beach wasn’t that long, ten, fifteen minutes maybe. It wasn’t midnight yet when you reached the pavilion, so technically it was still your anniversary. The weather was cold and rainy and the stars were hidden behind thick clouds, but that seemed to match your mood perfectly. You’d been here so many times, taking walks along the shore and enjoying the breeze.

That day too hadn’t been anything special. You’d been on a walk together, like you’d been a zillion times before. As friends, of course as friends, except neither of you had felt that way anymore. You’d stopped at that pavilion, chuckled about how pitiful and shabby it looked, but with the sun setting on the ocean, you’d thought it was a tad bit romantic. So you’d said just that, almost immediately regretting it. You’d started walking again, fully expecting Jinho to snort at the sappy comment. But he hadn’t. He’d reached for your wrist, making you stop in your tracks.

Yeah, it’s romantic.

You still remembered the sound of his voice, trembling a little with nerves. It was clear that he’d wanted to say so much more. But that’d been enough, at least for the moment.

You wondered when the two of you had stopped being enough.

For a while you blankly stared out into the night, watching the waves roll onto the beach; the white foam visible despite the darkness. It was silent, as to be expected at this time on a regular work night, especially in a small town like yours. All you could hear was the sound of the ocean and the pitter-patter of the light drizzle against the roof of the pavilion. From time to time, a seagull squawked in the distance.

You stayed until the cold felt like it was biting your skin, and then you stayed longer still, waiting for the rain to stop. It’d picked up significantly, now more of a steady shower rather than a light drizzle and you didn’t fancy getting drenched.

The rain was also the reason you hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps coming closer, only spotting the hooded figure approaching you over the promenade when he’d almost reached the pavilion. It wasn’t like there was anything intimidating about him per se, and surely he was just coming over to seek shelter, but it just seemed a little scary to share this small space with a stranger at the dead of night when no one else was around. So you stepped out into the pouring rain, leaving the pavilion in the opposite direction of the person approaching. You felt anxious, but you forced yourself to walk calmly, casually.

When you dared to steal a glance over your shoulder though, it almost seemed as if the figure was coming after you. With a racing heart you picked up your pace more, trying to put some distance between the two of you, until suddenly a familiar voice cut through the rain.

“Y/n! Wait!”

You stopped in your tracks, your head snapping around. The guy had stopped, leaving a huge gap between the two of you. Full of disbelief you just stared at him for a moment.

“It’s me.” He carefully stepped closer, his arms held up in front of his body in some sort of pacifying gesture.

“Jinho?”

He nodded, lifting his hands to slowly push down the hood of his gray sweater, as if to prove that it was really him, as if you hadn’t recognized him from the moment you’d heard his voice. Your eyes followed the movement, and there was a weird sense of intimacy about it all that you weren’t supposed to share with him anymore.

You helplessly opened and closed your mouth a few times, wanting so desperately to say something but not a single sensible thing came to mind.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jinho broke the silence eventually. “I didn’t think you would be.”

“Why did you come?” It sounded colder than anticipated, but you genuinely just wanted to know. It didn’t make sense that he was here.

“It’s our anniversary.”

The way he said that, as if it was a given, made your heart ache. He wasn’t supposed to think about that. He wasn’t supposed to be a sentimental person who dwelled on the past like this. And yet, it seemed as if he was, and he admitted it so easily too.

“There is no us anymore,” you replied, frail and breathy.

He nodded, averting his gaze and staring at his shoes instead. You thought his eyes looked teary, but you couldn’t be too sure, not with the rain and the darkness surrounding you. “Right.”

It got quiet except for the rain that was still pouring down on you, until he raised his voice again.

“Why did you come?”

You shrugged, tears brimming your eyes. “It’s our anniversary.”

It was barely a whisper, your voice breaking before you could even finish the last syllable.

Jinho rushed in, stepping closer and pulling you into his arms, as if on instinct, as if he couldn’t help himself. He held you while sobs escaped your throat and tears streamed down your face, and you clung onto him, your fingers clutching his hoodie like your life was dependent on it.

“I miss you. I just miss you so.”

“Yeah,” he choked out, burying his face in your hair. “I miss you too.”

The rain wouldn’t let up at all, but it hardly mattered now that both of you were already completely drenched. You weren’t sure how much time had passed with the two of you just standing there, holding onto each other. You didn’t want to know either. All you wanted was for the moment not to end. Despite shivering from the cold, you didn’t let go, too scared you’d both part ways again as if nothing had happened tonight.

It was Jinho who pulled away eventually and you wanted to stop him, pull him back in, but you couldn’t.

“I think it’s time to go home,” he whispered, raindrops running down his cheeks like tears.

You weakly shook your head. “Not yet.”

“You’ll catch a cold out here.”

“So will you.”

He sighed and there was this weird, uncomfortable tension between the two of you. Every word and every move felt like a risk, as if you were walking a tightrope and the tiniest breath of wind could make you fall.

You knew as well as he did that you couldn’t stay out here in the rain forever, but if he left now, nothing would have changed.

“Walk me home then.”

His eyes widened in surprise but then he nodded and there was the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Okay.”

The walk was quiet, the two of you just walking side by side. You were close enough for your hand to brush against his from time to time, until he reached out his pinky and intertwined it with yours. You felt your heart stop at that tiny gesture, your head turning to look at him. But Jinho didn’t meet your gaze, pointedly focusing his eyes anywhere but on you.

You didn’t let go when you reached your apartment and when he stopped outside your doorstep, you lightly tugged on his hand, urging him to come in with you.

“You’ll catch a cold out there,” you repeated his words from earlier back at him.

Still, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. “Are you sure?”

“Just come in,” you replied, but what you really meant was Just come home.

The door fell shut, leaving the two of you in your half dark hallway, wet clothes sticking to your skin.

Your fingers were still intertwined, cold hands holding onto each other. You were standing way too close, but neither of you moved. Instead, you just looked at each other, taking in every detail of each other’s faces as if to make up for lost time.

His gaze briefly darted to your lips, just for a split second, but you noticed it either way. You also noticed how he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat and the corners of his mouth tensing a bit in the way they always did.

It was just a tiny movement, but it was so him. It made you realize that you must have seen it a zillion times before and more importantly that you wanted to see it a zillion times more.

When you tore your gaze away from his lips and back up to his eyes there was so much longing in them, leaving no doubt in your mind that he missed you just as much as you did. You wanted to kiss him.

“We should dry up,” he whispered.

“We should,” you replied but you didn’t really care.

His gaze wandered to your lips again, and he tentatively leaned in a bit, but then pulled away again, meeting your eyes in a question, asking for consent. Your heart was hammering in your chest so loudly you were convinced he must have heard it too.

“Kiss me,” you pressed out, your voice trembling.

And he did, careful and hesitant, just a brush of his lips against yours, as if it was your first time all over again.

When he broke the kiss way too quickly, a small frown spread on your face. “Do it right.”

Jinho chuckled, reaching up with his thumb to smooth out the crease between your eyebrows, before he cupped your jaw and pulled you in again. He wasn’t as hesitant this time, kissing you until you felt breathless and weak in the knees.

“Was that right?” He asked with a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Almost,” you whispered against his lips. “Better do it again.”

He captured your lips once more, and it felt so familiar, almost habitual, it was as if you’d gone back to the past, as if you were an us again.

Without letting go, the two of you stumbled through the hallway into your bedroom, shoes tossed aside somewhere along the way.

“I think—,” you breathed out between kisses, your hands tugging on the wet fabric of his hoodie, that felt cold against your fingers and must have felt even colder against his torso, “I think we should get rid of this.”

“Should we?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, pushing the hem up just a little bit. “It must be cold, right? Can’t have you getting sick.”

Jinho huffed a laugh and you felt his breath fanning over your lips. “Right, that’d be no good.”

He pulled his sweater over his head, leaving his wet hair all ruffled and sticking up and you couldn’t fight the urge to run your fingers through it and fix it. He let you, catching your wrist in his hand when you pulled away.

“What about you?” He pressed his lips against the palm of your hand. “Aren’t you cold as well?”

“Very much.”

You peeled yourselves out of your clothes, both of you chuckling when your wet jeans clung to your legs so badly, you struggled to get them off and stumbled back onto your bed. It was clumsy but it didn’t feel awkward, not when Jinho shook his head in amusement, nor when he helped you out of the jeans, pulling at the fabric until it finally let go of your legs. There was no room to be uncomfortable or embarrassed, you knew each other too well for that.

Once he’d tossed the jeans aside, you scooted back on the bed and reached out for him, urging him to come closer. He followed suit, propping himself up on his arms as he hovered over you, your faces mere inches apart.

“I missed you,” you whispered as you took in his face, from his dark eyes to the little mole on his upper lip. “I really, really missed you.”

A small smile spread on his face. “Me too. I missed you.”

You kissed him again then, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull his body close to your own. Most of your clothes discarded on the floor, you could feel the goosebumps on your skin and on his, your bodies chilly after being in the rain for so long. You didn’t mind though. You were shivering and trembling, cold touches against cold skin, but your bed felt warm and so did kissing him.

The rain was still pattering outside your window, coming down endlessly. You weren’t sure how much time had passed but you knew it wasn’t even close to morning yet. You rested your head against Jinho’s chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

“What do we do now?” you whispered eventually, breaking the silence that had spread between the two of you.

“Sleep?” Was his simple response even though you both knew that wasn’t what you meant.

“And after that?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered and you felt your heart sink at the unsatisfactory response. Before you could say anything though, Jinho pulled you a little closer, resting his chin on top of your head. “We try again.”

Masterlist

#jinho x reader #pentagon x reader #pentagon scenarios #pentagon imagines #pentagon headcanons #pentagon reactions #pentagon fluff #jinho fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop headcanons #pentagon #pentagon drabble #pentagon fic #kebbis.writing

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archivalofsins · 2 months ago

Text

Goes and plays Reverse 1999 due to a friend becomes obsessed with X after being like why the fuck are you here go away. The evolution

Why are you here?! I wasn't pulling for you!

Oooo Rube Goldberg machines go brrr-

Wait is this guy just Shidou and Mikoto fused???

Why is he just Mikoto?!

Spoilers for Reverse 1999, I guess.

X: You hate the wealth gap and how it incentivises giving those who have more and those that don't less. You hate it so much I can kill this guy for price gouging medicine, right? What do you mean I killed someone, Vertin? Lol, nooo that was a tragic accident unless you're claiming your friend was an accomplice to murder?

Damn it's Mikoto again! I can't keep fallen for this character type.

Jackalope was right,

"No unique features about him. So, I don't have much to comment on. He's kinda like mass-produced goods."

Friend sends me storyboard me-

CHEEKY TEENAGER

His years at the orphanage taught X one truth: If you want something, you must take the initiative. Whenever he invents something new, there's always some unfortunate individual who ends up his test subject. He knew his appearance, along with just the right amount of cockiness, was something nobody could resist.

No one's going to want to help or work with someone who can't communicate properly or doesn't look the part.

Q.04 Are you picky when it comes to fashion?

Mikoto: Of course I am. Nobody would want to ask for anything from an unfashionable designer, right?

20/07/08

Yuno: Hey, Mikoto-san. Don’t you get tired being so conscious of others all the time? I mean, you’re free to do what you want, though.

Mikoto: Eh…… Aha, what are you talking about? I’m not being conscious or anything. It’s normal to make sure to get along with everyone, right? I mean, when you put it like that, aren’t you the same, Yun-chan? You’re always smiling and getting on with everyone, too.

Yuno: I don’t smile unless I actually want to. But with you, when you’re talking with other people it’s more like you only smile deliberately. So I kept thinking, don’t your cheeks get tired? Ah, is this just what happens when you become a working adult? ……you see people like that sometimes.

Mikoto: Haha, you don’t mince your words, do you. …….that was never my intention, but now that you mention it, yeah, I guess I do. This might’ve been since I started my job too…… But like, if I was rude to everyone I met, all my efforts would come to nothing, right?

THE PERFECT CRIME

In order to protect what matters most to you, it's hard to avoid doing something questionable. With convoluted and bewildering methods, along with a plethora of clues, under the intricate workings of the Goldberg machine, these chilling cases often go unresolved.

The full statement alludes to all the murders this guy has committed, which is more than the one shown. The focus on "protecting what matters most to you" is a self-explanatory connection between these two. At least, I believe it is.

Friend sent me this as I was messaging them live reaction reading his story,

Pandora Wilson: Let's talk about something else. There was an accident at an orphanage a few years ago, and I heard you were present.

X: Oh? If you want to discuss topics that have nothing to do with the interview, you have to test this Bubble Gum Spraying Alarm Clock in exchange, okay?

Pandora Wilson: The deceased appeared to have been killed by a loose shingle from the roof. The angle, wind speed, and power it had was incredibly precise.

X: Oh, such is life. It's filled with coincidences and accidents.

X: Don't be sad. Now, let's try this Mini Priest Bouncer and pray for him, shall we?

Pandora Wilson: Please excuse me.

ENCHANTING ARCANE GENIUS

Enchanting items with precision is no small task, but it's simple enough for X. The unknown gift of his bloodline gives him the ability to 'see' the points on each item that require arcane treatment. With some minor tweaking, machines can create endless possibilities in his hands.

Does editing and repair work that takes a keen eye. Also despises being asked to do more work or work outside of his comfort zone.

Has cool horror outfit,

That has nothing to do with the other stuff. Well, it can if one considers Mikoto's relation to horror. But I just find all the horror references in reverse neat.

How I sleep and feel after the character committing murder for morally grey reasons is held accountable and isn't treated like the world's specialist boy who just needs a nice warm blankie and love and affection to heal-

"Reach out for a comfortable chair- Rejoice and throw your arms in the air! 'Cause it's a good life, so why y'all trippin'? The good life's slippin' away."

But the murders-

Me (sometimes admittedly): Whelp-

Especially with the guy X kills who is price gouging medicine all while knowing the world is ending in a few hours anyway due to the storm. Something he is seeking shelter from. Fuck that guy specifically. Dude literally was like how can I make sick people's life worse and myself richer before everything ends.

So, yeah fuck him.

Someone not me who displays anger in healthy ways probably. These characters don't need to be good but it's would be nice if they were just a little justified to soothe my own ego. I don't want to like characters in fiction who are completely irredeemable. Everyone has their reasons and struggles fiction is meant to teach us how to empathize with the experiences of others and put ourselves in their shoes.

No one deserves to die but mistakes happen and maybe this is just that.

X's character showcases the immense amount of detail and planning that needs to go into even the simplest action. Using the complicated machinations of Rube Goldberg machine as a visual illustration of that process and all the parts needed for it to occur. Comparing that machine to people (individuals) and the way the world functions as a whole.

Playing on the old question if someone makes a machine that is set to kill someone completely at random and someone else trips it not the person who created it is it still murder. Some variations of this have the person who made it set it off as well but at a completely random time with no awareness of who it will hit. In my opinion this is an attempt of calling into question intent.

So the answer changes based on if the individual knows the outcome of the event or not. If someone knows the machine is going to kill someone and triggers it they had the intent to kill. If someone accidentally triggers it and is unaware of the function of the machine that's an accident not murder.

This is the same question X's Anecdote in Reverse 1999 poses. By having the unwitting participant in X's Goldberg machine be Sonetto. This leads to Vertin not informing the foundation of X's crime because the trigger of it would be Sonetto,

Making her into an accomplice in the scenario despite her lack of knowledge of it. This is logic Milgram fans should be very familiar with. It's the same logic used to pole vault over the concept of any of the prisoners being murderers. It's the logic on full display when one says the prisoners were just involved in someone's death not directly responsible for it.

It's guilt by causality. Guilt from just being a part of the chain reaction. It's like Futa said at the start of the series-

"Everyone else was having fun weren't they? What about them? Why is it just me?!"

Just because they happened to be there or know the victim they are just as responsible for their victimization? Simply due to their involvement in the situation at all. They weren't better partners, their communication was lacking, they choose to deceive or omit-

They are murderers because they did what any normal person does in a week.

They are murderers because like Sonetto they were there. Like Sonetto they existed in,

"My life started in a wrong spot."

Not because they choose to kill anyone. Not because they set up the machine. No because they were the fulcrum. Because them stumbling across it led to it activating. They could have never known what online comment what online comment would be a person's last straw, how much bullying one person can take, or the significance of what they've been robbing people of.

Hell, maybe they don't remember doing it at all.

These are all ways that the prisoners' distance themselves from their actions and the audience distances them from said actions. Because if the machine is long enough everyone's fine with giving a shrug and saying,

"It’s not my fault-"

I didn't make it that way after all. That's just how the world is- It's just how God made it.

"God gave me everything, everything is as I wish." - "I’ve got EVERYTHING, everything is as I wish."

You see,

"It can’t be helped.”

Those are the rules after all.

"After you cry, repent, and kneel, it’s now your turn to say that hopeless “I’m sorry”. You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please, go ahead and die already." - "Don’t you think it’s wonderful to control them with my gentle sting."

The ways that the prisoners and the audience attempt to distance their selves from the actions they took- Does it still make sense when compared to Sonetto's situation?

Would she be a murderer by that same logic. Would X not be considered a murderer because everyone dies eventually anyhow?

Is it fair to call someone a killer for doing an every day thing like picking up penny off the ground just because someone else set up a machine to shot a gun off in a crowded area if someone picked that penny up?

A person cannot account for what they don't know. They can learn better for the future most definitely. Yet, this is why to me at least saying the prisoners were just involved in someone's death not directly responsible for it due to the choices they made is not murder. The intent matters. The desired outcome matters.

X is shown to understand this. Not only understand it but know how to make it so his machines won't harm anyone. In the same Anecdote he makes a marble shooter for a few kids that no matter where you aim it the marble goes back to the same spot. Taking into consideration that children if given such a thing would immediately use it to hurt other children.

The amount of effort and forethought that goes into these things for them to become persistent patterns of behavior is inconceivable. Can someone cause someone else's death accidentally? Yes, things like this can happen accidentally in many ways. Do any of the things in Milgram look like accidents?

Absolutely not. Is it fun to think about them being accidents or out of their direct control for angst reasons? Yeah, absolutely. However, most of them allude to repeating the same thing over and over. After a point a choice is a choice.

How many times can someone do the same thing before one considers it may be by design instead of error? But have I considered their troubles and experiences? Yes, but that's not my main concern when it comes to Milgram. Sometimes I am just too busy experiencing the catharsis of bad people getting what they deserve as good people fall prey to the question,

"What matters most doing the right thing or maintaining your moral purity?"

All because a lot of times in life those two things won't align. Just to find out neither it's all what the individual puts stake in themselves.

In order to protect what matters most to you, it's hard to avoid doing something questionable.

Sometimes I can recognize the victim and the perpetrator are the same person that neither title negates the other. Because it's nice to keep it simple but it isn't realistic.

What's a persons morals in the face of the chaos that is reality. What is order in the disordered? Can a society that functions off the exploitation of it's weakest individuals be considered orderly?

Is that sort of machine worth replicating or should it be dismantled from the inside out?

Is it fine to,

"AAAHHHHHHHHHH!! DESTROY EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!!"

"Is this selfish? This isn’t too much is it?"

At the end of the day this big machine and the constructs built around it won't stop the inevitable. Be it today or several hundred years from now the machine is going to go off.

Outside of all that sometimes... I just like to go-

"Ooooo Rube Goldberg machine goes brr-"

Because it isn't about the outcome. It's not about being right or efficient to me. It's about the process and what I can learn through it. Everything that may impede me doing that regardless of how reasonable can just go in the fireplace,

Well I'm going to go cook and try to catch up on Tsumigram now.

#gunsli rambles

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sirtadcooper · 1 year ago

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I was tagged by: @matbaynton - thank you! <3

Tag someone you want to know AND/OR some of your besties.

This turned into a monster of a thing so I'm sticking it under a cut!

Favourite colour: I am rubbish at this question. I love various colours in various contexts, but at the moment I am really gravitating towards greens. Green is a colour I haven't paid much attention to before, but for some reason over the last few months I have taken an interest in it. I even bought a solid green jumper!

Last song: When Things Explode by Unkle. It's a song I first heard on an episode of Person of Interest and it's now on one of my YouTube music playlists. Takes me right back!

Last movie: I had to check my Letterboxd for this - that's how often I'm watching films at the moment! It was the 1995 version of Persuasion that I rewatched at the end of August. A film I only discovered recently but has become one of those instant comforting favourites.

Currently watching: Oh heck - I'm struggling to keep track, there are so many! I'm watching The English at the moment. Also Outsiders series 2, Taskmaster series 16, New Girl (on season 2), This Farming Life series 6 with my dad on a Sunday morning, All Creatures Great and Small series 4, Fletchers' Family Farm series 2, Schitt's Creek with @phantomviola (on season 5), The Musketeers (series 2) and Black Books (series 3) with @userdjarin and who could forget Our Flag Means Death season 2 which has taken over my brain! Along with all that I squeezed in a Primeval series 2 rewatch which I finished the other night. [slaps roof of my brain] this bad boy can fit so many narratives in it.

Other stuff I watched this year: HAH! I have an IMDb list of TV shows I've watched this year! It's long as heck! Silk, The IT Crowd, Black Sails, The Last of Us, Lost in Space, Endeavour, The Terror, Arrested Development, Community, Vicious, Prehistoric Planet, Why Didn't They Ask Evans?, Ted Lasso, Miranda, The North Water, His Dark Materials, And Then There Were None, Jonathan Strange & Mister Norrell, The Great British Sewing Bee, The Bear, Blackadder, 30 Rock, Chernobyl and The Expanse. And those are just the ones worth mentioning! And some of these I watched four times! Okay, one thing. Okay, it was The Terror.

As for films, it's a poor show this year - I haven't watched as many (see above for reason why). I have seen the latest Spiderverse film and I've love to see Barbie!

Shows I dropped this year/didn’t finish: The Mandalorian (sob!), Vikings (I think I was maybe an episode or two shy of finishing the first season but... man... I just wasn't having fun), My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (to be fair this might have been last year, I can't remember, but I know I stopped a few episodes into season 2), Fleabag (I watched one or two episodes... wasn't quite for me).

Currently reading: Darwin by Adrian J. Desmond and James R. Moore (about 100 pages in but I'm taking this one slow because I'm not hyperfixating on him) and Dead Famous by Greg Jenner which I am taking even slower. I've read quite a few books related to the Franklin Expedition this year (thanks, The Terror) and for a while I was reading pretty solidly but I guess that's what hyperfixation does to you!

Currently listening to: I'm not really listening to music much these days thanks to YouTube's annoying ad blocker pop-up so I'm typing this in silence, haha! But podcast-wise I'm doing great. Three Bean Salad is probably my favourite podcast at the moment. The humour is just too good, and I look forward to hearing the lads every week. I'm also binging The Rest is History which is a bit more serious but still has its fun moments. I'm also listening to Off Menu, No Such Thing as a Fish, The Bones Booth, Taskmaster: The Podcast, The Mariner's Mirror Podcast, and odd episodes of RHLSTP if I know the guest. I save podcasts for when I'm doing something like washing the dishes, walking or driving.

Currently working on: Now that the puppy I found at the end of August is vaccinated, she can go out and about, and that has led to me abandon the polymer clay for a while to return to a hobby that I haven't spent much time on since early 2020 at the latest. I wanted to make her some nice collars and leads so she looks smart for our walks which I will inevitably be photographing. I know it's kind of hard to see but I made this collar and lead for her.

I was a bit worried that I'd forgotten how to sew the leather but thankfully not. I have a few more straps of leather lying around that I'd like to make into collars and leads as well. And several rope leads that need whipping (you wrap thinner twine around the thicker rope to finish it and protect the end from fraying) but I'm having to take my time with those because the twine is murder on my soft, delicate, feminine hands. I can whip maybe four leads before my fingers are red. It's worth the pain!

Current obsession: Our Flag Means Death has taken over my life once again. Whatever happens in the finale next week, I know I will be a mess. Heck, I'm already a mess.

I'm tagging: some recent mutuals so we can get to know each other, but no pressure! @tigerballoons, @woofety, @jackharkness, @jddryder, @ajcrowleys and @skatingthinandice! <3

#matbaynton #tagged #i have a lot of stuff going on now that i see it written down haha #anyway that was fun! i'll try to get a few more things done that i've been tagged in

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acetechne · 1 year ago

Photo

Condensed Milk - A Dirty Money Comic pt 13

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] epilogue: [part 11] [part 12] [ x ] [part 14] [part 15]

sorry for the wait i was a bit busy having another existential crisis and then i went camping and then my roof started leaking so ! this thing keeps getting away from me and I have no idea still about a conclusion. I had a conversation written that i could put after this page, I just need to iron it out a bit.

I think the interesting thing about the dynamic between bert and annie is there is a very thin veneer of civility between them... but at least they’re honest about their feelings? haha. I think Bertie appreciates a good straightforward row once in a while. He also has some experience in tourism naturally, but he doesn’t depend on it nearly as much as Annie does.

- he did make the shortbread with his own hands actually :C rip shortbread.

- annie says he’s in the wrong place to look for money but i actually started writing this comic after a news article came out saying albertans were going to NL to work for once instead of the other way around, so the original comic was about Bertie begging for a job, haha.

- like i’ve said i started drawing the original prequel to this after the federal election and there was this weird fallout where people from NL living/working in Alberta felt “betrayed” by the home province voting liberal and it was like...... ok.... sorry you’ve been drinking the dino juice too i guess

- not a spark of warmth? coal is where warmth comes from silly! [wiping sweat off brow] haha isn’t it great we’re bringing it back in fashion [coughing]

- annie was a literal indentured servant in the 19th century so it’s personal

- bert blushing ‘does this make my neck look red’

- hypocrite as i’ve said is the most devastating insult next to liberal you can call someone in alberta i think. at least, in our minds it’s supposed to be an instant argument winner and it always works if you believe that it does and don’t actually know what an argument is.

- ben likes them because they’re annoying :)

- BERTICUS USED WESTERN SEPARATISM! it’s not very effective. i feel like the difference between qc separatism and alberta separatism is that qc separatism is based on this idea of a separate language and culture and ab separatism is based on the idea that canada will finally acknowledge how we are somehow More canadian than the rest of canada and also the most special and important princess and we invoke it most when we really really want a “no, please stay we love you!!!” so when we get the same “ok then just leave lol” that we love giving quebec, it’s a shock.

#projectcanada #iammatthewian #iammatthewian project #iamp: alberta #iamp: newfoundland #iamp: prince edward island #pc: alberta #pc: newfoundland #pc: prince edward island #ralph campbell #annie montgomery #benjamin o'reilly #hapo art #condensed milk comic #clip studio paint #dirty money

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landofzero-archive · 11 months ago

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Battle on the Sugoroku Board - God Won’t Roll The Dice 1

(Location: “Battle on the Sugoroku Board” program set)

(Meanwhile)

(CosPro Team’s Amagi and NewDi Team’s Mikejima have surrendered.)

Natsume: …… HmM. Looks like Mikejima-senpai has been defeaTED.

He’s the weakest member of the NewDi Team…… I don’t mean to sound clicHÉ, but it’s not something to panic aboUT.

What bothers me is that they both went into the “State of Surrender” at the same tiME.

It’s only natural to think that Rinne-senpai and someone from CosPro Team were togethER, but they seem to prefer to act alONE.

Either a third party gained the fisherman’s profIT (1), or, against our expectations, Yuuta-kun and Ibara-kun were accompanying hIM—

RegardlESS, as the leader I’m having trouble thinking of when to bring back Mikejima-senpAI.

…… HM? GPS information has been updatED?

Kaminari-san is approaching ME?

Arashi: Ahh I found you! So you were hiding in a place like this, Natsume-chan.

But why are you climbing the roof? I wouldn’t have known where you were without GPS.

Natsume: I can’t afford to cut corners when it comes to winnING. The golden rule of ground warfare is to secure a viEW.

Arashi: Ufufu. Natsume-chan doesn’t like to lose either.

Then, let me walk through the building and get there too……

It looks like Mama’s in the “State of Surrender,” so what should I do? You can revive him by paying money, right?

Natsume: HmM. As I said befoRE, the first time will cost 100G, and from there it’ll double as the game progressES.

In other worDS, if I spend too much, then I’ll end up with an amount that can’t revive anyone at the end of the gaME.

Aren’t there many teams anticipating this and also making the decision to not reviVE?

I’m a bit puzzled over whether Mikejima-senpai’s abilities are irreplacaBLE.

(…… Even sO, I hate losING.

I have no intentions of losing “Battle on the Suogoroku BoaRD.”

It could just be that I hate losING, but by winning, I can get closer to the production director and management of NETV.

It may be cut from the broadcaST, but it’ll remain in the recordiNG. If I want them to come cleAN, that’s where I have to question thEM.

As a condition for my appearanCE, I was allowed to bring in a few film crew members who are close to us at NewDI. I’d like to hear their answers through the recordING.)

………

Arashi: Natsume-chan?

Natsume: I thought about it for a whiLE…… The question of whether or not to revive Mikejima-senpAI.

Considering that it’ll be an all-out war at the eND, wouldn’t it be appropriate to leave this aloNE?

Let’s save up some gold for a whiLE. It’s better to let Mikejima-senpai go on a rampage latER.

Let’s let the beast rest in the cage for a whiLE♪

(Location: Cage)

Madara: Help’s not coming, huhh? And yet our fellow prisoners are watching our every move…… It’s exactly like a bed of needles.

Rinne: Even though we’re the ones trapped in a cage, they’re lazing around. …… I guess they didn’t notice that we were caught?

Madara: No, since it was announced on set, I guess they’re not bringing us back on purpose.

I wonder if my leader’s thinking “In the end, it’s going to be an all out war so we’ll just let other agencies compete with each other for now.”

That seems like something he’d think.

Rinne: Looks like we were thinking the same thing…… I think Mikeneko-chan and I are similar even if we’re in different positions.

Madara: But, compared to Maizuru Manor, this is a lot more easy going, isn’t it? You don’t have to try to pacify others to make them like you, and it’s okay for them to hate you as much as they’d like.

Rinne: “Maizuru Manor?” What’s that? Did you get banned from a hotel or somethin’?

Madara: Haha. It has nothing to do with you.

More importantly, let’s have a fun little chat♪ We won’t gain anything from staring at each other, right?

…… It’s difficult to say if there’s anything particularly worth talking about. I know, how about talking about Rinne-san and I’s experiences?

Double Face, Crazy:B, and MaM…… None of these units are straightforward, and I think they’re worth hearing about.

Rinne: Oh, then let’s talk about our funny friend, hm? I’d like to hear about how you see Kohaku-chan.

Help isn’t coming anyway. Let’s have a chat♪

Madara: Let’s. As long as the cameras are rolling, we can’t talk carelessly. It’s convenient if we talk about that.

For example…… How about the story from when Kohaku wore a suit for Double Face work?

It was funny seeing him struggle to tie his necktie, don’t you think?

Rinne: Great! I looove stories like that♪

Then I’ll also tell you an anecdote that won’t disappoint!

You guys should join the sharing circle too. It’s boring just watching silently, isn’t it♪

TL Notes:

A fisherman’s profit is a Japanese proverb wherein a third party effortlessly benefits from two parties being in conflict with each other.

Previous | Directory | Next

#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #rinne amagi #madara mikejima #natsume sakasaki #arashi narukami #era: !!#type: event

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milarqui · 2 years ago

Text

Scarlet Lady: Syren

Directory | Captain Hardrock

“Nadja Chamack here, flying above Paris. Animals have escaped the zoo and are flooding the streets!” the reporter said, while two large gorillas jumped between roofs behind her, before the camera turned to two people dressed in outfits that hid their identity. “But Chat Noir and the new hero, Marigold, are already on the scene! Scarlet Lady is noticeably absent.”

As the camera kept filming, the two gorillas were led into a trap and fell into a jail.

“They're doing what they can to round the animals up!” Nadja continued.

They just escaped? the three swimmers watching the news from the side of the pool, wondering how that could have happened.

One of them turned to the girl next to him.

“Hey, you think super heroes come from a mega secret training center?!” the boy asked, eager.

The girl smiled and took off her bracelet.

“Dunno. Wanna know my secret?” she said, putting a piece of paper she had already written into the bracelet's capsule.

“Yeah! I love this game!” he replied, and she threw the bracelet into the pool.

The boy dived behind it and quickly grabbed the bracelet before going back and breaking out of the surface. Opening the capsule, he read the note.

“'I'm super in love with a boy who doesn't suspect anything',” he read out loud, while the girl blushed, smiling and hoping he would get it. “Haha! That guy sounds like an idiot!”

He hadn't.

You're not wrong, Ondine thought, wishing she knew what would get through Kim's skull to get it.

Perhaps...

“I'll be more direct,” she muttered, writing down something that even Kim would get –

“AH! Oh no, the movies!”

Shocked, Ondine turned around and saw Kim was already putting on his clothes over his swimming gear.

“I gotta go!” he exclaimed.

“But–! We didn't finish!” Ondine cried out, seeing her chance of finally confessing slipping through her fingers.

“Sorry, the whole class is going and Max bought my ticket!” Kim said as he put on his shirt. “Everyone's going, even Chloé, so I can't make them wait!”

“Kim...” she said. She wanted to say I love you! at the top of her lungs. But the words... they were stuck in her throat. Not just because of how she felt unable to confess.

But also because of who he had mentioned.

Kim turned around and began to run. She had one chance to say it.

“At least take off the swim cap!”

“AH!”

And she blew it.

She watched Kim leave the pool, and she turned back to the note she had wanted to use to confess. A heart, with her prince's name inside, and an 'I love you' underneath.

“I don't understand... she's so mean! But maybe she likes her assertiveness...” she said, trying to understand how Kim could like that girl. “She's vain. Or maybe just girly. And she's arrogant! But I guess that means she's confident.”

She couldn't hold them anymore. She hugged the note, as her tears began to fall off her eyes, unbidden.

“Either way, she's the opposite of me!” she sobbed, as she felt the crushing pain of rejection. Kim may not have actually said he didn't like her... but it was as if he had. “Do you really like that type of girl?!”

----

“I hope Chloé doesn't come, though, she's such a pain,” Kim muttered as he ran for the cinema.

He felt like he had forgot to do something, but he shook his head. Movies awaited!

----

“Oooo, I sense someone having a bad day,” Hawkmoth crowed, delighting in yet again taking advantage of someone's pain. “Sure would be a shame if someone made it 10 times worse.”

Conscience? What was that?

----

The two panthers were prowling the blacktop, looking left and right for possible prey, when the prey landed in front of them. The panthers looked curiously at the almost mouse-like prey, black with yellow stripes, as it crawled away from them, clearly having realized it was in the presence of predators.

The large felines prowled, ready to pounce on the skittering prey. It may be small prey, but it was still prey, and they were feeling quite peckish.

So concentrated they were on the prey, that they didn't notice that it was leading them somewhere like the jail they had escaped earlier that day.

It wasn't until the prey suddenly jumped up, far faster than they could react, that they realized it was not prey, but bait.

And then the doors closed behind them.

----

“They've done it! All the animals are safely captured!”

“Shouldn't you have helped them?”

She was going through the motions now.

“That's grunt work. Not glamerous at all.”

Not like pushing her to act would work at all.

The camera then approached the heroes, who were talking with each other.

“Chat Noir! Do you have a moment?” the reporter asked, and Chat Noir turned around, smiling.

“Uh, sure!”

“Paris has noticed that you seem much more upbeat and approachable! What do you attribute to this change?”

“Oh, that's easy!” And then he pulled a blushing Marigold closer to him. “I have an amazing partner I can rely on!”

“How dare he do an interview without me?! Spots On!”

Yeah, because that is what's important, Tikki sarcastically thought before she became absorbed into the earrings.

----

“Bien Joué!” they said, celebrating their success.

“HEY!”

They looked to the side, where Scar stood, clearly angry. Not that it wasn't uncommon.

“How could you?! Going on TV without me?! You didn't even call! How could you keep this from me?!”

Both heroes sighed.

“Didn't you just say you saw us on TV?” Chat Noir pointed out.

“How many other secrets are you keeping from me?!” Scar shouted, ignoring the question. “I bet you know where the new-bee got her Miraculous!”

“I do, actually.”

Marigold and Scar turned to him.

“WHAT?!”

“Really?” Marigold asked.

“But I'll never tell you, Scar!” Chat Noir replied, sticking his tongue at Scar.

“You mangy cat!” Scar shouted, throwing a temper tantrum, while he and Marigold spoke.

“Hey, was that true?” Marigold asked.

“Honestly, I only know, like, one thing that she doesn't.”

Then Chat Noir's smile turned more predatory.

“But she doesn't know that.”

Marigold felt her respect for him lower just a bit.

“You can be pretty childish when you want to,” she noted.

“S'what happens when you deal with a child.”

----

The silence of the pool was only broken by the sound of his mop as it slid over the tiles. Everyone was gone for the day, and all it rested was to make sure everything was in place for the next day.

Then he looked around, and realized that not everyone was gone. There, at the other side of the pool, was sitting a young girl, still wearing her swimsuit and cap. And, from what he could see... the poor girl was crying.

He swore he could even see the tears dropping down her chin.

He wished he could do something to console the child, but he didn't know her, and he wasn't certain if his intervention would be welcome. He made a note to ask someone at the office to either keep an eye on her or call someone for a relative.

But then he saw something else.

A black butterfly.

In the past months, every Parisian had learned to keep an eye on them. Thanks to Paris' heroes, it was known that they were the means Hawkmoth used to transform people into Akumas – and they always came for people that were sad, or angry, or disturbed enough to attract the villain's attention.

And the butterfly was flying to the young girl.

In the silence that had suddenly fallen in the pool, he began to run. He would be too late to shake the girl off. Given the location, he knew the most likely thing to happen was that this Akuma was going to be water-themed.

He had to run away. Warn someone. Do something.

Even as he made his way to the gates, he kept yelling out about the Akuma.

Even as he ran through the last corridor, he heard the rush of water coming for him. For everyone.

He didn't reach the door in time.

----

Max observed as Kim ran up to him and Alya. He noticed that he still had some gear for swimming, so he could surmise that he hadn't realized the time while he was in the pool. Checking his watch, he looked up to his friend.

“You're 3 minutes and 37 seconds late. But so are Adrien and Marinette.”

“Adrien I get, but Marinette?” Kim asked. Max also could tell that Marinette being late was a bit of an anomaly – save for first hour at collège, she was usually on time everywhere. However, he believed she might have simply lost track of time with one of her projects.

“She probably got caught up in the zoo outbreak,” Alya said, and he admitted that it was a likelier assumption. “Dad was freaking out.”

“I'M HERE!” Marinette shouted, stopping right next to Kim, and panting from exertion. “A-Am I last?”

“Besides Adrien,” Alya replied. “You know what that means.”

The four of them threw their hands into the air and cheered.

“CHLOÉ DIDN'T COME!”

----

Chloé, as was usual of her, was now throwing a tantrum over some little thing or another – which she had had coming, even if she would never be willing to admit it.

“Can you believe those stupid jerks, keeping secrets from their glorious leader, who do that dumb Fools-gold and Alley Cat think they are!?” she complained.

Tikki would have pointed out that she hadn't earned the right to knowing, given how she'd only really help once in a blue moon, but as she knew Chloé wouldn't listen to anything that contradicted her world view, she didn't bother.

Then she took a glance at the clock, and realized the time.

I could remind her she's going to miss the movie, buuuuut...

Yeah, better keep her away from the others. That way only laid madness and potential akumas.

----

The people in front of the Pontoise Swimming Pool were suddenly shocked when water began to filter through the cracks around its gates, flooding the pavement.

That became academic when the doors opened, and a torrent of water began to cover the entire street.

----

Adrien opened the door, entering into Fu's masseuse shop.

“You called me, Master Fu? I can't stay for long,” he said: he was going to be a bit late for the movies, but if this was done soon, he'd be able to catch up with the others.

“Ah, yes, Adrien. I need your assistance,” Fu replied, waving him to the backroom, but he put a hand up when Wayzz and Plagg made to follow. “Kwamis can't know the power of recipes. What if you were captured like Nooroo?”

Wayzz could understand the point, so he didn't complain when Fu closed the door behind him.

Plagg... he was less understanding.

“I'm gonna break his pots,” he announced. Wayzz was quite alarmed about that.

Meanwhile, in the back, Fu was preparing two cauldrons as he spoke with Adrien.

“So, Adrien, are you getting along with Marigold?”

“Yeah, she's great!” he admitted. He wished he could have had her as a partner from the beginning. “Of course, her arrival is making Scar ask a lot of questions. She really hates being out of the loop.”

The two of them looked at each other... and Fu shrugged.

“Well, sucks for her.”

Adrien laughed.

“Right?”

----

Unfortunately, the first test of the power-up potions he had found in the Grimoire was a bust.

And a burp.

“I think it needs more salt,” Wayzz complained after letting out some extra air.

“Aw, too bad,” Adrien admitted, before giving one last look to his watch. “Gotta go!”

“Bye,” Fu replied, just as devastated as Wayzz was.

Fortunately, the cinema they were going to was close, so Adrien didn't have to run much to meet them at the gates.

“I'm coming!” he shouted, and Alya and Marinette – the others had to be inside the cinema – waved at him.

“Hurry!”

As he finally reached them, he panted in exhaustion.

“Sorry, I was–”

“You can explain yourself later!” Alya interrupted, handing him a ticket, but then Marinette saw something.

“AH! We should keep running!” she said, pointing at the water that was quickly covering the street.

“AH!”

----

“Whoa, would you look at that?” Tikki said, pointing at the growing water level, as it filled Paris' streets.

“Gross,” Chloé said.

“It's definitely an Akuma! Let's go, Chloé!”

“Nah, the extras can get their hair wet, not me.”

Tikki rolled her eyes, but then a certain sight at the other side of the room told her this was not going to go Chloé's way.

“Looks like your hair's getting wet either way,” she said, pointing at the seeping water coming from under the door.

“NOOOOO! NOT SEINE WATER! FISH PEE THERE!”

Tikki looked at her with pity. That she would concentrate on that...

----

“WOHOO!”

“KIM!”

Alya wondered what was going through her classmate's mind when he jumped into the water, clothes on, without a care for the temperature. After swimming around for a while, he

“Isn't this great, guys?! C'mon in!” he shouted.

“Kim, no. It's February,” Max, ever the voice of logic, pointed out.

Kim just stuck his tongue at him.

“Bleh, you're no fun.”

Alya would have made a sarcastic comment, but when she saw the fin approaching Kim from behind, it flew out of her mind.

“KIM!”

“KIM, BEHIND YOU!”

Before Kim could react, something grabbed him and pulled him under the water.

“Hup–!” he said in shock before his head was submerged.

For Alya and her classmates, the shock was no lesser: after all, their small class outing had suddenly turned into a 1970s blockbuster, and they didn't even have a boat!

“What grabbed him, did anyone see?!” Alya asked in panic, before she turned to Adrien...

… who wasn't there.

“Ah! Adrien's gone! Marinette, do you know–” Alya said, turning to her best friend...

… who wasn't there. Either.

“Marinette! Everyone's disappearing! What is happening?!”

----

This one's going to be hard to explain... they both thought as they faintly heard Alya's scream.

----

Kim was very thankful for his lung capacity. He was certain that he would have drowned without that.

Fortunately, the cute siren that had pulled him underwater realized that he was running out, and somehow blew a bubble that was larger than his head.

“I found you, Kim! Oh, here, this'll help you breathe!” she said (he didn't pay much attention to the fact that he could somehow understand her even though they were both underwater) and she put the bubble around his head.

----

“Hey there, landlubbers!”

The teens turned in the direction of the voice, and saw Juleka's mother right next to their improvised platform, standing on a very familiar boat.

“The Liberty is here to the rescue!”

“YAAAAAAY!” they all shouted, and quickly they jumped from the top of the cinema to the large boat.

“Luka, you came!” Juleka said, going after her brother.

“Of course! We headed over as soon as the Seine started overflowing,” he replied, before he began to look around. “So, uh... where's Marinette?”

“She went off on her own to get help.”

“Oh.” He sighed, disappointed.

Juleka gave Luka a half-serious glare.

“Gee, thanks for your concern.”

----

Having managed to find a place where she could transform, Marigold began to swim in the direction where Kim had been taken, and saw him in the company of what had to be the Akuma – and she knew this one.

“Wow! I can breathe underwater!” Kim said, from beneath a 'helmet' that was pretty much a large bubble around his head.

“I knew you'd like it!” the akumatized Ondine replied. “And I have even more surprises!”

She had heard enough (and chose not to ponder on how that was possible at all), so she threw her spinning top and hooked the string around Kim's ankle.

And then she pulled him up with her.

“Whoa!”

“Kim!” the Akuma said, before turning her glare to Marigold. “GIVE ME BACK MY PRINCE!”

Marigold felt a shudder.

Please use any other nickname! she mentally begged. She had better things to do than to deal with another Scarlet!

----

“AAAHHH!”

“Marigold!” Chat Noir exclaimed, quickly jumping between the few buildings that had yet to sink, and catching his partner mid-air.

As she coughed out some water, he smiled down at her.

“Bold strategy, but you know bees can't swim!”

“Ha, ha,” she weakly laughed, which he counted as a success.

“HELLOOOO!” It was the usual suspect, and he turned to her, waiting to see what excuse she would make now. “My room is covered in fish water because you're too slow! Would you deal with this already?!”

Chat Noir just looked at Scar for a few seconds, before turning away.

“C'mon, Goldie, I know where to get help.”

“HEY! Don't ignore me!” Scar yelled.

They ignored her.

----

Fu felt lucky that his shop was far enough from the Seine that it wasn't suffering from the sudden flooding, but he knew that could change at any point. Nonetheless, he remained in place: in the current circumstances, the secrets he had divined from the Grimoire would be the only way for the heroes to succeed.

“Master Fu?” Right on cue, Adrien entered the room. “We have a problem.”

“I know. You three can't fight under–”

And when he turned around he saw that not only was Adrien present as Chat Noir... but he had also brought company.

“Ad–! Chat Noir! Why did you bring Marigold?! My identity and location are of the upmost secrecy!” he berated the young man, who looked sheepish.

“Um, well...”

“WHAT?!” Marigold shouted, turning to her partner. “Chat, that's bad! You can't share other people's secrets! What were you thinking?!”

“Yeah, but...” Chat Noir grabbed one of her hands. “You're my friend.”

Marigold lost her worried expression while blushing.

“Awww!”

“Good lord.” Fu palmed his face. In this kind of situation, he slightly regretted having given the Bee to Marinette: clearly, her love for Chat Noir was dulling her wit. He grabbed his tablet and checked the page for the potion that would most help them today. “We'll discuss this later, but for now, unless we can decipher what a 'tear of joy' is, I can't help you fight underwater.”

“But that's easy!” Marigold exclaimed, and he looked at her.

“Easy?!”

“Here: why do you go to bed at night? Because the bed won't come to you!”

It shouldn't have worked. It was a bad joke. But, somehow, that made it hilarious.

“AHAHAHA!” Fu laughed.

“Oh, I get it!” Chat Noir joined in. “Why did the gym close down? It just didn't work out!”

“HAHAHA!” he kept laughing.

“What did the snail yell on the back of a turtle? Woohoo!”

“Stahp!” he begged – and he felt something running down his cheek.

“One 'tear of joy'!” Chat Noir triumphantly exclaimed.

----

The two sidekicks weren't there. There was nothing she could do. And her home was still underwater.

“This is stupid, I wanna go home,” she complained.

“Not yet, Scar!”

She turned to look at the sidekicks – who were suddenly wearing something that looked like one of those fancy diving suits she had seen in movies.

“Ah–! What's with the look?!” she said, seething, before looking away and crossing her arms. “That's it! You backstabbers and your secrets can deal with the Akuma without me!”

A few seconds of silence passed, and suddenly the mangy cat grabbed her under her arms while the new-bee forced her mouth open and pushed the tip of a bottle in.

“We would if we could, now drink the Aqua Potion!” both of them yelled as she (unwillingly) drank the bottle's contents.

“Don't worry about the weird taste, it's probably nothing,” Marigold added with a smirk.

----

The siren brought him to the swimming pool where he and Ondine worked out, and somehow, she had assembled the chair and the noodles so they would look like some kind of throne.

“Wow, the pool looks awesome!” he told the siren, who happily swan around him.

“I knew you'd like it! That's why I tried to confess here!” she replied, showing a bracelet on her left arm. “But you didn't really get it.”

A bracelet – he knew that bracelet! He had hunted it down enough times in this very same pool!

“Wait... Ondine?!”

“Heehee,” she giggled. “Yep!”

And then he made the connection. Max always said he was kinda slow... and he had to admit his friend was right.

“But that means I'm that idiot!” he shouted, realizing belatedly that he had insulted himself earlier.

“Sure are!” Ondine said, lovingly, before she swa, to him and put her hands behind his head. “With a kiss from me, we'll be the same! You'll swim just as fast...”

“Sweet!” he said, closing his eyes as he prepared to get his first kiss –

“Not sweet, Kim!”

“Huh?!” Ondine shouted, turning to see Paris' heroes swimming in the water – and all of them sporting new looks.

“Whoa, you look like fish!” Kim exclaimed. “How'd you do that?!”

----

Elsewhere in Paris, a certain villain looked at the new scene with a glare.

“Not fair,” he complained. No, he was not jealous of how amazing those suits looked. That was slander, and he would sue anyone who claimed so.

----

Scarlet Lady summoned Lucky Charm while Chat Noir kept the Akuma distracted.

“Car keys? Such a cheap model.”

Marigold paid her no mind, going instead for Kim.

“Hey, what set your friend off?” she asked.

“I accidentally blew off her love confession when we were playing Bracelet Secrets,” he said, worried.

“'Bracelet Secrets'?”

“It's a game Ondine invented!”

Marigold looked at the girl, and saw a bracelet on her wrist.

“That must be where the Akuma is!”

“Hey, wanna hear my secret?” Kim said, and Marigold smiled at him.

“You wanna help some superheroes?”

Kim gasped.

“How'd you know?!”

----

Syren looked around. Those blasted heroes had taken her Kim from his throne, before she could make him like her!

“Damn you! How dare you take my Prince!” she shouted in anger.

“Hey! Little mermaid!” one of the heroes shouted back, and when she looked in that direction she saw her Kim without a bubble and shaking his arms. “Your Prince is in trouble!”

“KIM!” Syren screamed, swimming towards him as fast as she could, furious with the 'heroes' for not giving him the air he needed. “How heartless! I'll save you, my Prince!”

As she swan through a car whose doors were open, she realized too late that Chat Noir was approaching.

“AN OPENING!” he said, slamming the car with his baton.

Suddenly, the car's airbag blew, so fast that it hit her in the face and pinned her against the car seat.

“HRGH!” she let out, before losing consciousness.

----

The yo-yo and the baton were ready to pull out the car where the Akuma had been trapped, and now Chat Noir and Scarlet Lady were doing their best to do it.

“Alright, reel her in,” Chat Noir told Scarlet Lady.

“The Cure better dry off my hair,” she complained as she pulled from her yo-yo.

Nearby, Marigold was trying to shake off the water out of her drenched hair, after helping Kim out of the water.

“How you holding up?” she asked.

“Ha!” he laughed. “Max says I'm too dense to let the cold bother me!”

Marigold laughed. It was typical Kim, and kinda adorable as well.

“Actually, I was referring to the fact your friend confessed to you.”

Suddenly, Kim began to blush and covered his mouth.

“Righ. Ondine is in love with me. Wow.”

“Did it just hit you?” she teased, but she couldn't blame him much: all the sequence of events in a rapid succession had probably kept him from reacting to it until he had the time to actually think about it.

The moment Ondine was out of the water, Scarlet Lady cast the Miraculous Cure, which, much to her joy, did dry out her hair – along with the rest of Paris, where the Seine was restored to its normal water level, and those who had been in peril of drowning (or actually had) were returned to their places, in perfect health. Many thanks were given to the heroes for stopping the most dangerous Akuma to appear, so far.

And Ondine... well, it was February, she was in the open, and she was only wearing a swimsuit. Naturally, the poor girl began to shake from the freezing weather.

“Brr! Wha–!” She looked around. The last thing she remembered, she was at the pool, heartbroken over Kim, and now she was atop a building, somewhere close to the river.

“Here, Ondine,” Kim – Kim! - said, taking off his sweatshirt and putting it around her shoulders. “I'll take you back to the pool!”

“Kim?”

What had just happened to her?

And the heroes were here, too!

“You know, me and Marigold can get you there faster,” Chat Noir said – impishly, she thought – while Marigold gave them a knowing smirk.

Kim proceeded to grab her in a bridal carry, and glared at the heroes.

“I said I'm taking her! I'm not sharing!” he yelled.

She blushed. She wasn't sure what was going on.

But she was in Kim's arms. She could handle not knowing... particularly if she could milk it for a little more.

----

With Kim and Ondine returning to the pool – so the girl could warm up in the heated water and retrieve her belongings – Scar turned to face them.

“Okay, sidekicks, fess up already!”

“Whaddya mean?” Chat Noir replied, him and Marigold the perfect picture of innocence, as Scar's earrings began to beep.

“First Bumbling Bee shows up, then you keep having secret meetings, and now the mermaid drink?! Answers! NOW!”

“The answer is it's none of your business!” Chat Noir happily fired back. “And you might want to leave before you lose the only secret you have.”

Scar's fuming face was amazing.

----

Back at Fu's place, the Guardian looked to be quite cross with them both, particularly the Black Cat Hero.

“That was very foolish, Chat Noir.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I should hope you show more respect for other people's trust in the future,” he warned him.

“Yessir.”

Fu sighed.

“But what's done is done. I'll begin training both of you, so long as you don't come at the same time.”

Chat Noir and Marigold happily looked at each other. They would be able to learn more to help stop Hawkmoth!

“On to good news,” Fu continued, showing several pipettes, each full of a liquid of different colors. “I've unlocked even more recipes and powers. You can change the container to suit your Kwami so long as the potion is present.”

As she looked at the potions, Marigold had a horrifying feeling.

But that means I'll be eating chili peppers!

----

“The dried centipedes go on the top shelf, Adrien,” Fu stated, drinking his tea.

“Yessir,” Adrien wearily replied. Reorganizing the entire pantry was a lot more tiring than he had envisoned it to be.

----

Marinette watched the pink chili pepper with apprehension. She really, really, didn't want to do it. But she had to – she had to train for when it was needed!

She began to put it in her mouth –

“You don't have to eat those for me, My Queen,” Pollen gently explained.

“Ah. Oh.”

THANK GOODNESS!

----

In the depths of his secret lair, he had one question to make.

“Nooroo, how can I obtain more powers?”

“What do you mean, Master?” the Kwami of Transmission asked, unsure of what Gabriel meant.

“Don't take me for an idiot! The heroes had new powers, how did they do it?!”

“K-Kwamis don't know the recipes! And only Guardians can read the Grimoire,” Nooroo replied.

“I must find this guardian at all costs,” he declared. No, he wasn't imagining himself wearing a finned version of his Hawkmoth costume, that was slander.

----

Dark Cupid

@zoe-oneesama Gabriel's alternate costume should be green.

@msweebyness What's your opinion? You were really looking forward to this.

Alright, that's Ondine's Akumatization out of the way. Soon, it'll be Kim's turn. Don't forget that Chloé's stellar reception of what she sowed!

#scarlet lady the novel #milarqui #fanfiction #scarlet lady #scarlet lady is better than canon #marinette dupain cheng #marigold #adrien agreste #chat noir #ondine #syren #le chien kim

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