#what’s the point if i don’t get like at least 2 chapters of the main characters being happy content whatever

[pixiesnooze]

i dislike stories that seem inconclusive ??? like idk how to put it but like when stuff is constantly happening to the main characters with no break like we have barely resolved one conflict and we are onto the next like conflict 16 through to 67 are unresolved and you just introduced conflict 69 like lay it to rest im bored now im not even entertained anymore

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Present Day

Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.

What?

You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.

At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.

You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.

Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?

For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.

When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.

You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.

Sobriety sucked.

The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.

"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.

Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.

Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.

You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.

"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.

The younger guy snorts.

"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.

It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.

That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.

Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-

You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them.  Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo? I mean y’all can come in if you want-“ You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. “I apologize in advance. I’m not quite myself, I was up late working.” You pause halfway into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee, you guys want some?” You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"

“Coffee is fine."

You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.

You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.

You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.

So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.

Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.

You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.

"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.

"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.

Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?

"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.

"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.

“You’re really good.” Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“So your mum eh?” Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.

He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow to challenge him

“You look a lot like her.”

“Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."

"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.

"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"How did you-“

"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.

The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.

“But you have the same name.” Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.

“She named me after herself. I’m sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."

“Right.” Agent Butcher smiles, but it’s tight lipped.

You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?”

“Well is your mum around-“

You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."

They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.

“Really? I thought Indigo-“ It’s enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.

“Don’t read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldn’t protect her from that.” You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.

“It wasn’t in the news.” He grunts.

“They covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Can’t be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesn’t look good.” You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. “What did you want to talk to her about?”

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.

“Did she talk to you at all about him?” Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.

“Yeah.” You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. “He really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."

The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Hughie looks sincere when he says it.

Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.

“It’s been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. It’s kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.” You smile to yourself at the joke.

“So you’re a supe?” Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.

“No I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesn’t work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasn’t a supe so maybe it just diluted.” You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air. 

“But she did talk to you about him?” Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I mean what do you want to hear? There’s a lot.” The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.

“Start at the beginning.”

“Well.” You take another sip of coffee. “I don’t know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia.  All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-“ You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.

“They were dating?” Agent Butcher asks.

The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.

“No, but he really hurt her-“ You avoid their gaze.

“What did he do?” Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.

“They had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.”

“Do you know anything about how he died?”

The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.

“It hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.”

“Was she there when Soldier Boy died?” Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.

“No. She left Payback  before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.” You force a shrug. “I think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.”

“So she didn’t know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?” Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.

You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.”

“Well I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

They get up to leave.

“Wait-“

 Agent Butcher turns to look at you. 

“Why are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"

"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."

You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.

“So do you believe her?” Hughie’s voice echoes in your ears.

“Not a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."

Russia? Why would they go to Russia?

You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.

You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadn’t been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didn’t eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.

You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.

She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-

Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.

You think again about Countess.  She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.

Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[lyjen]

Just a minute | Part 2

Summary: When (Y/n) wants to postpone their wedding because she doesn’t want to walk down the aisle with a walker or in her wheelchair, an argument turns into a fight where (Y/n) rakes up the past.

Request

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

<< Previous Chapter | 9-1-1 Masterlist

______

“I want to postpone the wedding” (Y/n)’s voice said as she sat across from her fiancé at the dining table. 

He just came home from his shift at the firestation, he only had the chance to let his duffle bag fall to the ground, kiss his girlfriend and pour himself a glass of water. 

He took his lips off the brim of the glass as he swallowed the bit of water he had in his mouth. His eyes narrowed. “But why? We already postponed the last time.” he asks. 

Evan was confused, why did she want to postpone the wedding they wanted so desperately, again? The last time they postponed was because of the accident, which he understood. But he couldn’t think of a reason right now. 

His hands started to sweat as anxiety rises in his chest. Was he not good enough? What if she changed her mind about him? 

She started to pick her dead skin around her nails, one of the habits she developed in the last few years. Usually it was her biting her nails, but she switched from that to picking dead skin. Not one of her proudest quirks. 

With her eyes focussed onto her fingers, she gathered all her courage. “You know how much it means to me to walk down the aisle with Bobby on my side.” she said. 

No, both of her parents aren’t dead. They were healthy, at least that is what she assumed. (Y/n) simply didn’t have any contact with her parents anymore, she left everything and everyone behind in Maine. 

But when she moved to California and joined the LAFD, she had found her own family. They may not be blood related, but they do feel like a family to her. 

There was a silence between her and Evan, he was caught by surprise. He didn’t expect her to tell him she wanted to postpone. 

“I'm not rolling down the aisle.” She added, and broke the silence that was hovering around the dining table. 

Evan was clearly looking for the right words. But it was like his brain wasn’t making a connection with his mouth. As if there was some kind of error between the two organs. 

“Look.. I-… I know how much it means to you.” He stumbled over his words as he tried to figure out how to create his next sentence. “But from what I can see, you’re doing great. I mean you can walk.” he continued. He knew he sounded like a douchebag, maybe he picked out the wrong words. But this is how he felt.

A sigh rolled off her lips, she hoped he would get it. She told him countless times how much she wanted to walk down the aisle. “Yes. With a walker and slower than a turtle. And I don’t want that.”

Evan shifted in his seat, he pressed his hand against his temple, digging the fingers into his forehead. As a simple breath changed into a soft sigh. “Are you kidding me?” His voice said, as he let his hand that was pressing his forehead, fall onto the table. ”First it was the wheelchair, now it’s the walker?” He asked as his eyes were focused on his hand and wandered back to hers. 

He didn’t understand. He does, but also not. When they were just engaged, they couldn’t wait to get married. They were at the point to just go to city hall and get hitched, because they were that excited. But that’s not what they wanted. 

They postponed the first time because of the accident, and now she wanted to postpone it again because she didn’t want to walk with her walker down the aisle. He doesn’t get it, all he wants is to call the woman sitting right in front of him, his wife. To say that short simple sentence he waited this whole entire year to say.  

Her eyes met his as she let hers move from her fingers up. “You know what I mean Evan.” Her eyes narrowed as a disappointed expression morphed onto her face.

Evan pushed his chair back with his upper legs, and stood up from his seat.  He let a hand slide through his blonde curls as he inhaled, his lungs full with oxygen. He held his breath until he knew what he wanted to say. But instead of words, a laugh left his lips. 

 “You are so…” he stopped himself from finishing that sentence. He wasn’t making her out for that. It was just rude, and it wasn’t like him to call her out like that. Evan didn’t want to hurt her more than she already was. He places both his hands on his face to cover it. He needed to get it together.

Her left eyebrow frowned, as she waited for him to call her out. “I am what Buck? Hmm?” she said. Waiting for the ticking time bomb to go off. She knew this was coming sooner or later, the bomb named Evan Buckley going off. It was only a matter of time.

“Finish. Your sentence.” she added, as she kept her eyes locked onto Buck.

Both his hands slid down his face, quickly letting his right hand trace over his chin as he placed them on his hips. He turned his face towards the ceiling as he pressed his lips into a thin line. He wasn’t going to say it. Maybe it’s for the better that he’d keep his mouth shut. 

He shook his head, as another loud sigh filled the small space they were in. “You know what..” he started as he locked his eyes with hers again.

“I’ve been so supportive all the damn time. Helping you, going to your apportionments and to try and see things from the bright side. But it’s always about what you want, what about what I want?!” He blurted it all out as he pointed towards himself. 

(Y/n) could see the tears starting to well up in his eyes as he talked faster than his mouth could handle. As another silence hit the conversation.

He was right. Maybe she was selfish. Maybe she didn’t listen enough to what he wanted. But this is her once in a lifetime opportunity to shine, and she wanted to make the best of it.  So that nothing else matters in the world, but them. 

Evan felt guilty for lashing out that way towards her. Even though he stopped himself from calling her a ‘spoiled little brat’. He could read the pain and the sorry on her face. “Look.” He said as he crouched down next to her, to get in her height. ”I know what you are going through, I’ve been there.” his voice continued as he placed his hand onto hers. 

A disgusted look was sent towards him as (Y/n) yanked her hand from underneath his. “No you don’t! Nobody does!” her emotions took over her entire voice. She was sad, angry, frustrated and she felt so many more emotions, which she couldn’t even describe. 

(Y/n) wanted to roll away in her wheelchair, but she didn’t. She looked to her right, focussing her eyes on the window. She took a breath, as she felt the emotions taking over her body. Entirely unable to control them now. She could feel the tears stinging in her eyes. “You broke a leg.” She mumbled. ”You could walk with crutches. There’s a difference between paralysis and a broken leg.” Her broken voice added. 

Evan wanted to try and put his hand on hers again, but figured it was for the better as he just tried and made things right with only words. “But I kept hope.. I know I would be able to do my job again.” he said, as he straightened his legs. 

A scoff tumbled from (Y/n)’s lips as the tears in her eyes started to break free from the borders. He didn’t just say that, after everything he had put his found family and her through. It may have happened years ago, but she didn’t forget about it. “Is that what you call suing the city and the LAFD?” she answered fiercely as she shook her head. 

Evan was surprised by her reaction. He may just have started a fire he didn’t want to. He could see the fire burning in her eyes, something he had never seen before. Sure he had seen her mad, but he figured this was going to be on another level, only by the look in her eyes.  “Don’t go there.” he said, as he took an opportunity to keep this argument on a low level. He wasn’t out to fight her. 

She was still facing the window, she refused to look at him. But she felt something burning inside of her. (Y/n) faced Evan again. ”Oh and let’s not forget about the time.. when the doctor told you it was healing slower than expected, and you desperately wanted to do that surgery because you couldn’t wait any longer!” she blurted out as she pointed at him.

He was startled by the intensity of her reaction, “(Y/n)..” he mumbled, that was the only thing he could manage to say. He didn’t want any of this. He didn’t want them to fight because of some stupid wedding.

She rolled her wheelchair backwards and turned so she was facing him now. “Do you call that hope? Or did you just forget about those parts?” She continued. Thunder was written all over her face, as tears were streaming down her face. (Y/n) didn’t care about the tears that made her seem weak rolled over her red cheeks. 

Evan didn’t know what to do, so he just let her rattle. Let the words she didn’t get to say back then, finally leave her chest. Turns out, he wasn’t the timebomb. She was.

She let her hand trace through her hair, moving the strands of hair that were flowing in her face behind her ear. “I couldn’t talk to you for weeks because of that stupid lawsuit, just because you couldn’t wait a few more weeks” Her voice sounded raw, as if some kind of barrier had broken inside of her.

He started pacing, as he turned his back towards her. She couldn’t be serious now. Why was she digging up the past? She knew how sorry he was for that lawsuit. He didn’t think of the consequences. He was so focussed on getting his job back that he forgot the most important thing that made him love the job even more. 

But she was poking him so much with her words. “I wanted my job back!” He snapped at her. 

(Y/n) didn’t expect that reaction from Evan. But instead of letting the words sink in, she directly reacted to them. “And all I want is to walk normally down that aisle.” She shot back at him. ”Without a walker. But that seems like too much does it Evan?” her next sentence sounded a lot more calmer than the one before.

A laugh rolled from his mouth as he tried to calm himself down. She was on edge, and so was he. He let out a sigh as he pressed once again the palm of his right hand against his forehead. A few counts of silence, as he let the situation fall into place.  

He took a loud breath. “If it has to go like this, I don’t even know if I want to continue this conversation if it constantly ends up with us fighting.” he sounded calm. 

Her heart was beating in her chest, as the tears dried up on her skin. The adrenaline in her was so high, that her mouth was talking before she could think of anything to say. “And I don’t even know if I want to marry you anymore.” Her eyes grew wide as she placed her hand in front of her mouth.  

Evan looked at her as if she was some kind of monster. She felt the eyes burning onto her skin as she avoided his gaze, his reaction. “Buck please.. I didn’t mean it” she stumbled as he grabbed his car keys from the dining table. 

He wanted to flee, to run away from whatever situation he had gotten himself into and act like it never happened. He wanted to turn back time, to avoid this scene that had gotten out of hand. Just as he grabbed his keys from the table, he felt a hand locked around his wrist, keeping him into place. 

His eyes wandered from his wrist, to the person who was holding his wrist. When his gaze met her red puffy eyes, he didn’t have the words for whatever just happened. “Please!” she begged him another time. But he didn’t react. 

All he did was pull his arm free from her grip, and without sparing her a glance, he left the house. 

The only thing she could do was listen to the door falling into the lock, and hear the engine of the Jeep he owned running. 

“Fuck!” Her voice sounded through the empty house, so loudly you could hear her lose her voice.

What had she done?

______

(Y/n) rolled with her wheelchair towards the front door as it sounded through the house. Could it be him? She hadn’t heard from him in two entire days, she didn’t hear if he was fine, safe, if he showed up at work or not. And it made her feel a mix of anxiety and worry. She held her breath as she pushed the lever down, wishing it was her fiancé. 

But her eyes filled with hope fainted as soon as she saw Eddie and his son Christopher at her doorstep. Eddie had both his hands tucked in his pocket as Chris held onto his crutches. “Hi (Y/n)” Chris said as soon as nobody else broke the silence. “Hey buddy” her voice said softly and her eyes went back to Eddie. 

“Can we come in?” He asks gently. “Sure” she says with a little doubt in her voice. Part of her wanted to send them away, because she knew what was happening. Gosh did Buck really send his best friend instead of having the guts to face her himself? But the other part of her told her, maybe this is what she needed. A conversation with someone else but Buck. 

She wheeled herself to the side of the door so she could give them the space to enter the house and she could close the door behind them. Eddie and Chris took place at the dining table. Eddie helped Chris putting his crutches to the side of him as Chris got out his homework.  “Want something to drink?” (Y/n)’s voice asked as she wheeled herself towards the fridge already. 

“Are you sure? I can get the drinks too?” Eddie offered, typically Eddie, always looking out and asking if he could help. “Really, It’s okay.” (Y/n) said as she opened a deep drawer and took out some glasses. 

At this point, Eddie wasn’t a guest at their house anymore, and neither weren’t Buck and (Y/n) at his. They knew their way around each other's house like the back of their hands. Guess that’s what happens if you have weekly hangouts. It was normal for Eddie and Chris to come over and just talk about life when Chris did his homework or played video games. As if being with each other on a twenty four hour shift wasn’t enough. They always seeked each other's company. 

She placed three glasses onto the table as she wheeled back to the fridge to get the jug with water. “So where’s Buck?” Eddie asks when he can hear the fridge door close. Her left eyebrow lifted, as her mouth left a scoff. Was he seriously asking her this? Her gut told her enough, Eddie knew what was going on between her and Buck. “Please Eddie, you don’t have to pretend that you don’t know the story already. You’re his best friend.” She told him and placed the jug with water in it on the dining table.

Eddie was sitting on the head of the table with Chris on his left side, as (Y/n) rolled her wheelchair on his right side and started to pour water into the three glasses she just fetched. She could hear him thinking. “Hmm, Okay.. you got me there.” He started as he passed the full glass of water towards Chris. ”But I want to hear your side..” He added. 

She just laughed and shook her head. Why did Eddie want to talk about the situation that didn’t even involve him? Why did he want to make things right between the couple? “What happened? Between you and Buck?” He asks. (Y/n) finished filling the glasses with water, as she just stayed quiet and rolled back to the fridge to put the jug with water back. “(Y/n)..” Her name sounded like a sigh when it floated off his lips. 

“Why are you so invested in this?” she mumbled as she opened the fridge and put the object back where it belonged. She was holding back. She didn’t like to just pour her heart out to anyone, it was her problem and it was hers to fix.

She turned around and wheeled back. “Because.. he suddenly stood at my door three days ago. Asking for a place to stay for the night.” He confesses. 

She should’ve known. His best friend's house. She felt relieved, even though she had a gut feeling of Evan being safe and sound, probably with one of his friends or Maddie. But only to get confirmation, felt like a weight had fallen off her shoulders.

“And one night became two nights, and now we’re on day three. And I kinda want my couch back..” he continued as he locked his glass in his hand. (Y/n) took a sip of her water as she listened to the words Eddie had to say. “So.. tell me your side. I won’t judge. Just a friend.. offering his listening ear.” he finished, as he waited for an answer from (Y/n), the girl he thought of as one of his sisters. 

A small sigh fell off her lips. “We got into a fight. I told him I wanted to postpone the wedding until I could walk without the walker.” Her stomach turned as she tried to make her way through the story. Her eyes fell down to the glass of water she was holding between her two hands. 

“And then?” Eddie’s voice asked, as he gave her some space to breathe and think. But he knew that wasn’t the entire story she wanted to tell. “But.. everything got worse..” she continued as a feeling of guilt and embarrassment filled her veins.

Her eyes started to focus on one point as she started to remember what happened the day before yesterday. “He basically called me selfish, but then he told me he knew what I was going through. And I just told him he was wrong. That no one knows what I am going through right now.” She tells him, as tears started to sting in her eyes.

All those things she said, she wished she could just rewind time and change everything. “And you started bringing up the lawsuit..” Eddie added for her. He knew exactly where this was going. 

She slowly let her head tilt up and down. “And that’s the moment where I lost it.” She didn’t know how to feel. There were way too many emotions running through her body. She stared into the distance as she let the nail of her index finger slide over her thumb, searching for dead skin.  “I didn’t mean those words Eddie.. it was just.. I-” she stumbled, she didn’t know what was the right emotion to connect to that moment. 

He could see her nervous habit taking over, so instead of ignoring it, he placed his hand onto hers, to stop her index finger from picking her skin. “You were upset, and in the heat of the moment you said words that you didn’t mean. We all do that sometimes.” Eddie squeezes her hand softly, just to let her know he was there. 

“You said no one knows what you’re going through right now.. But.. I think there’s one person who comes very close.” His voice said. (Y/n)’s eyes wandered to Eddie as her eyebrows furrowed and a confused look morphed onto her face. Who? Who had the same kind of experience as she did?

(Y/n) followed Eddie’s gaze as he nodded his head towards his son. 

Chris.

His own son, who had dealt with Cerebral Palsy for his entire life. Still, it wasn’t exactly what she was suffering from. But he had trouble walking, just like (Y/n). She wasn’t able to find the strength in her legs, just like him. But the more Chris trained and trained, he could walk without crutches sometimes. Some days were harder than the others.

She didn’t know how to start this kind of conversation. What did she want to ask him? She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t ask him on which team he was on, she wasn’t going to bring a child into their fight. 

Eddie slowly slid his hand back and folded it back onto his arm that was lying on the table. “Hey Chris, can I ask you something?”she softly asked as she watched Chris turn over the page to the next one. He put his pencil down next to the book as he looked at (Y/n). “Sure” he said. 

Her mouth was open, pausing as soon as she wanted to ask him something. She hesitated for a second. But what could go wrong? “How do you do it?” She started. Chris' face went from a neutral look to a confused one. ”You are so positive all of the time, aren’t these crutches some kind of disability?” She added, to clarify her question. 

“Mmm, no..” he answered as he thought of an explanation. “I think of them as training wheels.. That someday, I’ll be able to walk without them.” He explains.

Those words from Chris made (Y/n) think. But as soon as she was looking for words to ask him another thing, he spoke up again. “They are very useful as well! I mean, If I want to use an elevator I can just use the crutch to click the button” he laughs. 

A soft small smile was displayed on her face as she heard Chris’ giggles. He sounds just like Evan. Looking at things from the bright side. “Never lose hope, because everyday I use them I get a little bit better with controlling them and my body.” He said. He sounded so wise, as if he already lived a whole life before. 

“Practice makes perfect” she mumbled as she quickly wiped the tear that was rolling down her cheek from her face. “Don’t cry (Y/n)” Chris says as he notices her wiping the tear away. “You’ll be alright. You just need to hold on a little longer to those training wheels, but you’ll get there.” He added.

Maybe Chris had a point. At some point she had to accept the fact that she had training wheels, and even though she didn’t want it, it was a part of her now. That someday she could walk again without training wheels. 

She bit her lip as she tried to suppress the tears she felt coming up again. Chris hops off his chair as he makes his way around the table. With one hand holding the table, and the other one he clings himself around (Y/n)’s shoulders. Hugging her from the side.

(Y/n) firmly closed her eyes as she felt the kid clinging around her body. She brushed her hand over the shoulder of Chris as she opened her eyes and looked at Eddie, who was sitting there with a content look across his face.

Chris loosens his arms from the hug, as he goes back to the seat he was sitting in before. 

She wiped the last few tears from her face as her gaze met Eddie’s, who simply placed his hand onto her shoulder. “I remember when you guys got engaged.. you couldn’t wait, the two of you wanted to get married the same day if you could.” He said as he retrieved his hand again. 

She sighed at the memory. “That was before the accident, Eds” she exhaled. “I'm only gonna walk down that aisle one time” she added as she again avoided his eyes. “(Y/n)..” he sighed. 

He tried his best, but he wasn’t leaving defeated. He had one more last trick up his sleeve, to try and convince her to talk to Buck, to walk down that aisle. 

She thought she knew what he was talking her into. It felt like he was tricking her by using Chris. Both Eddie and Evan knew she had a weakness for that kid. “No Eddie.. I’m not doing it.” she answered. “Just hear me out. Please?” He begged her. 

He slowly placed his hand onto hers again, “Look.. there’s no way you’ll be able to walk without some kind of tool if you do decide to not postpone. You’re going to need those training wheels a little longer, just like Chris said.” He tells her, as he motioned his head towards his son again. 

”I think you need to find a compromise with Buck. That guy has been through hell and back, and still after your fight even if it doesn’t look like it, he still loves you.” his voice said as her eyes fluttered down to their hands. 

“So I’m asking you, as your friend, as your brother of a found family..” he added, as a chuckle fell off her lips. He didn’t care that (Y/n) wasn’t blood related. Eddie himself came to Los Angeles too to start over, just like Buck, and just like (Y/n). “Please talk to him? And make a compromise with him. Because I’ve never seen people so in love and yet so incredibly stupid.” He says as a small laugh leaves his mouth.

“Dad! Language!” Chris said with a warning tone as a laugh took over his voice. Eddie glanced a smile at his son before he turned back to (Y/n) again. “And I’m not only saying this because I want him off my couch..” he smiles. “But because I care about you two, and I don’t want to see this fight break anything between you.” 

That sounded like some good advice.

______

(Y/n) let out a nervous sigh as she got escorted into the hall. With her cane in her right hand she slowly hobbled into the space where she met Bobby. No walker, no wheelchair to be seen. Just (Y/n) in her beautiful dress with a cane in her right hand. 

She finally came to a compromise with Evan. After Eddie’s and Chris' advice, she came to her senses and made her move to visit the fire station while Evan was on shift. Totally taking a risk with the time she’d have talking to him. She had brought over her cane packed in a box, with a note inside saying “I’m sorry I acted so stupid. Compromise? - (Y/n)”  

Sure, she wasn’t happy with the fact that she still had to use a cane to walk down the aisle. But it was much more of an improvement than a walker. She had taken lots more physical therapy appointments, usually she was there twice a week, but she doubled it because she had faith again. Mainly because of the words of Chris. 

“Look who’s there..” Bobby’s voice said as he looked over his shoulder and immediately opened his arms. He carefully gave her a hug as he looked her up and down again. “You look beautiful!” he says as he quickly blinks the tears away. 

“Thanks Bobby” (Y/n)’s voice said quietly as she felt her stomach fill with more and more nerves as soon as she looked towards the huge door on Bobby's side. “See you have your new tool with you? Upgraded the walker, hmm?” Bobby said as he pointed out at the white walker, covered with some glitters and soft pink flowers. “Yeah, I crafted this one with the help of Chris. That kid really has an eye for creativity.” She chuckled as she let her warm sweaty hand wipe the skirt of the dress. 

“Got everything?” Bobby asks for confirmation. (Y/n) licked her lips as she quickly entered her mind to get her checklist. “The bouquet of flowers is inside, I don't have enough hands for that. Uhm.. Oh god no.. my vows..” her nervous, anxious look turned into a terrified look. 

Bobby could see the way she started to panic and placed his hand onto her shoulder. “Hey, everything is okay. Look.” He said as he fished the small envelope out his pocket and held it between his index and middle finger. It felt like the invisible hand around her airway started to loosen up just as she saw the envelope between Bobby’s two fingers. She held Bobby’s wrist and gasped for air. “Maddie gave it to me just before you came here. She was scared you might forget it with everything on your mind.” Bobby confessed. 

Thank god for her sister in law, she really thought of everything. 

“Okay.. You ready?” he asked as he held her free hand in his. “It’s not like I got a choice right?” she smiled as she squeezed Bobby’s hand. “I mean you could always run..” He jokes. (Y/n) laughed, she knew what was happening, Bobby was trying to get rid of the nervousness inside of her. Throwing some kind of icebreaker. 

(Y/n) took a deep breath and exhaled it, and nodded towards Bobby. They both turned towards the large entrance doors. She looped her arm around Bobby’s as she faced the doors. Within ten seconds, those doors opened and she was eye in eye with the entire room. 

With the music Evan and (Y/n) had chosen softly playing in the background she started walking slowly but steadily down the aisle, with her lovely cane on her other side. With her eyes locked on Evan, she walked faster than she thought. She could even see Evan wipe one or two tears from underneath his eyes. 

-

“And now, it’s time for the vows. (Y/n) would you like to start?” the officiant said as he pointed at (Y/n). She smiled as she looked Evan in the eyes and looked over her shoulder, searching for Bobby on the first row. 

Bobby quickly stood up as he handed her envelope over and got back to his seat. She gestured to him a soundless thankyou, and sighed. 

She leaned with her arm onto the cane and closed her eyes for a second. With a trembling hand, she folded the envelope open and took a deep breath. 

“Dear Evan, I always thought it would be difficult to find someone who will love me when I’m always scattered in a thousand pieces. But then I met you.

When I walked through those station doors a few years ago, you gave me the warmest welcome a probie could ask for. I still hate you for calling me probie, by the way. But in those years we became friends, we went from friends to lovers, from lovers to fiancés and today I get to add one last stadium to that. Husband and wife. 

I know I didn’t make it easy for you these past months, and I’m sorry for that. You were there for me when I pushed you away, cared for me and you stood by my side every single step of the way. And I promise you, that whatever life throws at us, I’ll be there on your side. 

I am the luckiest woman alive to spend the rest of my life with my soulmate and I cannot wait for more life adventures and to grow old with you. I vow to stand by you, trust you, respect you and support you. I promise to always cherish you until my last breath. I love you. Love, your wife, (Y/n)”

She knew she didn’t have every single thing on there that she wanted to say. But some things she had to tell him alone. Tears were shed across the piece of paper, but those were tears of joy. 

Laughter, smiles and sobs were shared during the vows. 

A smile spread across Evan’s face as he pulled her close and pressed a small peck on her lips. She was certain that she saw Evan wipe his hand underneath his eyes, getting rid of all the tears. He seemed tuff, like he could kill you, but inside he was a cinnamon roll.

All eyes were turned towards Evan as the officiant called his name and pointed with his hand at him. 

“If you told me to the person I was six years ago, that on this day I was going to marry the woman I love the most, I would’ve told you ‘are you out of your mind?’ I could never have imagined I would be in this place. A place where I look into the eyes of my best friend and pledge to you my love. 

You are the sweetest, most loving, caring and kind person I have ever known, and I have no doubt that you make me a better man. Look at what you did to me when you walked in. You believe in me and have shown me how to love with unconditional acceptance and everyday you reaffirm that you are my soulmate. 

I’m not sure that a lifetime is long enough for me to return all that you have given me, but I promise to spend all my days by your side. I believe in what we are and I will always love you with every beat of my heart. Love, your husband.”

(Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line as she tried to suppress her tears and sobs. After everything she had put him through, he couldn’t hate her. As well as the other way around. Another letter more moist than dry. 

Evan placed both his hands onto her cheeks as she basically sandwiched her face. His thumbs slowly and carefully slid underneath her eyes. “You’re ruining your makeup with all those tears” he laughed.

She laughed through her tears as she pressed her eyes closed and let her forehead connect with his. 

She belonged with him, all those words proved it to her.

[1moreff-creator]

DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 13: First Impressions

Woo! DRDT! It is time! Time for despair! Let’s go! My excitement has not faded in the slightest from last week; if anything, it’s stronger than before. Here are my first impressions of this week’s episode!!!

Spoilers for CH2 EP13

CW Suicide, violent murder, mafia mention, suicide, hanging, self-harm.

It’s starting! Levi’s got some explaining to do. Will someone (say, Eden) have an interesting reaction?

Alright, J’s not the one I expected to have first reaction, but cool.

“You…” Is Ace okay? 

“Ah. I didn’t expect that.” Rose’s legendary reaction.

YOU CANNOT “THAT’S WACK” THIS SITUATION WHIT

Oh, so people know, but the court struck it. Interesting.

Ah, there’s the Ace reaction. Also, “no way Hope’s Peak scouted a murderer” but you have a poisoner on another secret and an art forger, at least. Not the same level maybe, but still. 

“Don’t make the mistake of switching cause and effect.” Of course Hope’s Peak is responsible, that was my first gut instinct. God, it’s so shady in this universe.

Woo, Levi backstory! Three “old enemies?”

… Bro??? I don’t think any of us actually expected more than one murder, but I might be wrong on that. Self-defense, then two first degrees, huh?

“Were you in the mafia or something?” Thanks J.

“I don’t think I need to elaborate” No, you do. You really should elaborate. Please? For me?

“Who did you even kill?” And… Levi!Accomplice is looking rougher by the second. Then again, maybe she didn’t know.

Levi tracked two of them down, but doesn’t know who they were? How?

“That car I blew up once?” HUH???

“That’s… kind of a lot to admit all of the sudden.” True, Rose. I’m trying to see what he’s cooking, but I can’t tell.

How do you forget this? Jeez.

“How could you forget?” You know, Arturo, I was kinda irrationally worried Charles was about to throw in his secret phrase, but it’s cool that you avoided that. Thanks.

[For the uninformed; it’s theorized the characters will, at some point in the series, say the quotes hidden in the source code of their dedicated pages out loud, since Min and Arei both said theirs, and Xander’s could be in a flashback. That means that if a character says their secret quotes, their chances of dying go up drastically.]

“If you don’t care about murder, you could be the murderer.” (Paraphrased) Yes thanks Veronika not the point. 

“Almost as if you don’t care…” Great. I didn’t know where Levi was going with this, now I don’t know where Veronika is going with her schtick.

I’m surprised Ace is taking it relatively well [as in, not outwardly terrified]. I guess near death does that to someone.

Woo! Time frame! Junior high school! 

Interesting, so he didn’t start fashion because of the murder. That’s kinda what I was thinking, but I was wrong.

We’re getting our first crumbs of Hope’s Peak being ultra shady in main series! After Rose’s backstory ig. Unfortunately the ��pretentious revolutionaries” aren’t here to “hand out tickets of lead” ← LGI brainrot

“It could also refer to the time I murdered my father.”

… 

???????????????????????????

You didn’t lead with that?! Also, what?! I laughed out loud at the fucking absurdity of the statement, but what?!

“It’s a bit of a bother.” The bothersome part is that they’re phrased vaguely and not that they reveal you’re a murderer, got it.

“Go back!” Thank you J.

What do you mean I think. Bro how many people have you killed? What in the name of Kirisaki Shidou [/ref]?

“Not even the police cared about a man like him.” ??? Also, wasn’t your dad a bad influence? You’ve mentioned him before, it didn’t sound that bad- Wait, is he lying? No way he’s lying. Hold on, let me watch more.

[In retrospect, I doubt he’s lying, but his story is certainly weird]

“I see no reason to remain hung up-” Then why are you bringing it up. I still can’t fucking tell what you’re trying to accomplish here.

Eden’s reaction is… neutral, I guess? Makes sense either way?

Eden!Culprit has always been hard to maintain during the trial, huh… Still took the tape though. And I guess it’s potentially interesting she’s getting this much dialogue about Levi’s thing. Teruko’s yet to speak this episode.

“I wonder if I should really tell the truth…” Bro what do you mean there’s more truth to tell?

Oh, hey, speaking of Teruko. And it seems she and I share a mind.

“I don’t care about people at all.” Ooooh, I like this. Some kind of condition?

I feel a little bit like Veronika, interested in hearing his experience with this. Feeling like Veronika is probably a bad thing.

“You’re still a stranger to me.” Levi’s quickly climbing the ranks of fave characters, btw. This is super interesting.

“But you’re a good person-” DO NOT “good person” right now, Eden! That’s a point to Levi!Accomplice, maybe? Maybe not? I don’t know what’s happening. And I still don’t get what Levi is trying to do here.

Double “good person?” Bro what is happening.

“I don’t personally care what happens to Ace.” Mood (that’s a joke I like Ace).

PFT- Ace’s reaction lol.

“But it is “good” to make sure someone else doesn’t die-” Goodbye Levi!Accomplice! I liked you, but I’m probably gonna go try to find other theories after this episode :p (This is a joke, btw; if I didn’t discount theories like Hu!Culprit when the new alibis came up, I’m not going to completely abandon Levi!Accomplice over this. But, just saying, there might be a few revisions to be made)

“Haha. You…” Ace breakdown! Breakdown! (I'm absolutely acting like Veronika now).

“I was right all along.” Yeah, Ace ‘can tell a hawk from a handsaw’ Markey, nice one. (Does anyone even know/remember why I’m referencing that line or is LGI too far in the past for that?)

New Ace sprite! Cool one too. Clutching his heart, Acevi shippers eating ig. 

“Good thing I didn’t fall for it. Not one bit.” Oh they’re eating GOOD good!

“There’s only one person in my whole life who I’ve ever been able to call my friend-” IS THAT A FUCKING TAYLOR REFERENCE?!?!?! Holy shit, I don’t know how many people are even gonna remember we have a canon name for that dude. I hope someone still has the screenshot of the deleted answer from the CH2 Part 1 Q&A. 

“I really hope you fucking die.” We are active in Trial 2 Part 2, huh? Between Arturo telling him to “shut his whore mouth” and this, Levi’s getting verbally jumped!

“You’re quite the interesting person, Levi” Please Veronika, give me the psychoanalysis.

Dude, that’s three “good person” drops all on Levi. Chat the importance of this phrase may have been slightly overexaggerated by me (then again, the list of “good person” people has yet to grow from last chapter).

“You act like a big pushover because-” This is the psychoanalysis I came to see!

I don’t know if I’d call it “intuitive understanding” but I guess Levi’s not fully wrong about Veronika.

Four “good person.” And that’s not counting Veronika’s “good people.”

Five. Also, this continues to be interesting. Why did Levi bring this up again?

“After looking at David, I thought being honest-” Okay that’s hilarious.

“Try looking in a mirror…” First David line of the episode, right? And it’s a nice one of course.

That’s six cases of “good person” in this chapter alone holy shit. At least it’s David, who still had counts.

“I apologize for this tangent” Then can you please explain why the tangent exists in the first place? Or is it really just because being honest is "good"?

[Spoilers. It really was because of that. What]

“I can’t believe there was a time I liked you.” Yeah Acevi is still eating good. I doubt the hostility is gonna drive the shippers away; that’s what they’re here for, right?

And of course Whit’s first line makes him look suspicious. Bro you have an alibi for the time of disappearance of fish and you didn’t take the tape from the gym, stop pretending to be the killer.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Thank you Hu, but let me jump to a conclusion. Is Levi not gonna explain why he revealed his secret beyond the honesty thing?

Okay J’s response is good too.

“No, [Arei] didn’t [talk to Levi about the secret]” Bro what the fuck are we even talking about anymore.

“I don’t have a defense” (Paraphrased) No but seriously what. I’m this close to ripping out my hair. What is he doing.

“We don’t have evidence [Levi is the murderer]” Thank you Teruko Tawaki for being one of three competent people in the building. This is affectionate, one of my favorite parts of the DRDT cast is that they all suck at class trials lol :p

Bro Whit is trying REALLY HARD to look like the murderer rn. I’m still not letting him convince me. Yet.

“I realized that motives alone are not concrete evidence.” Yayyyy! Progress!

“I feel a sneeze coming on…” Dude David and Teruko need to get into comedy, they’re fucking hilarious.

“One second please.” Hu I trusted you. Why. You’re revealing your secret, right?

“...I didn’t want you all to think less of me.” Aww, poor Hu. No one’s gonna think less of you, you’re doing awesome (I am assuming she has hopeless child btw).

“I wanted to believe the past never happened” Butterfly motif and “water as rebirth” symbolism go brrr. 

“I’ve always been a selfish person, haven’t I?” Hu please, you’re really nice, even if you go overboard at times.

“I will share my secret if you promise to immediately move on.” (Paraphrased) Good idea. It would probably be good to talk about it if she wants, but this is kinda not the time.

“I have Veronika’s secret, and she has mine.” Okay I did NOT expect her to reveal she had Veronika’s, but alright! That’s two more on the board, and two more most of us got right! At least the theorists are doing well on the secrets.

[Veronika agreeing to the pact] Bro what pact, how did you communicate that? Also, “I have such little interest in both of our secrets” is wild, but it makes sense given her personality. Recap foils go brr, I’ll sit down and think about this later.

“My own so-called secret isn’t even the worst thing I’ve done.” Uh…??? It’s just bombshell after bombshell, these episodes!

Oh, we are questioning the pact. I kinda thought they’d managed to do that in the trial, now I’m really curious. Please tell me we aren’t gonna have to ignore that question because of what Hu asked of them.

Shit.

“We’re not gonna talk about me?” Oh, Vero, I would love for them to talk about you, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen.

“Arei– Achoo!” WHEN I TELL YOU I CACKLED LIKE A MADPERSON HOLY SHIT

“Bless me! Also, excuse me! Wow, thank you for your support everyone!” WAIT IT GOT FUNNIER.

“I have another interruption–” Either it just got even funnier or he’s about to reveal Teruko’s secret and shit got serious, let’s see.

Oh, right. But, dude, I’m relatively sure the last two unclaimed secrets can’t be hers. Maybe the survivor’s guilt one, even though that felt like Xander’s? Are you absolutely certain you don’t have her secret?

“My family.” Figured she’d try that one. [She probably feels it's true to some extent].

Oh, now THAT’S a David sprite alright. Pretty sure that settles it, the most common theories for secrets during hiatus were all correct.

I’m guessing David’s still not gonna reveal it. We still need to see a Teruko teacher CG, and I don’t think we’re gonna have time for that if he brings it up.

“We did it!” Yeah he ain’t revealing shit. 

“Sir Light Pollution” is actually crazy. Do his eyes really emit light like a flashlight? That’d be really fucking funny actually.

Oh, it was actually funny because Whit is a boyfailure. Alright, joke understood. I smiled.

“I am truly impressed… by how bad that was.” And there I laughed!

“I’ve started to detect this trial isn’t about me.” Iconic of you, Sir Attention Whore /affectionate

Thank you J.

Eden bro can we please let Teruko speak. Also you are not helping the culprit allegations miss Tobisa.

“What happened between you and Arei?” Jesus, we really cannot get to the fucking murder, huh? Fair, though, I’m really curious about this too, though I feel we’re gonna skip past it without an answer or David’s just not gonna respond seriously.

“I know that she’s dead and that she’s never coming back.” We’re getting worryingly close to your secret quote wording here, Eden. You sure you wanna go this route?

What are we, on seven “good person”s now?

Oh shit are we actually getting an answer?

YES! YES! YES! LET’S GO! I wasn’t expecting this!

Eight. Though I think this one’s repeated, though I might be wrong.

Yeah, this is old dialogue.

Man, Arei’s and Eden’s VAs did amazing work this episode!

“That makes me feel really relieved.” Lie. She didn’t say that. That’s my gut reaction, anyways, I could be wrong.

“I was pissed at you for a bit.” Oh shit chat David’s not getting cut off. This might actually be true. What the fuck?

Oh, also. Nine. David again.

“There’s not even anything positive…” Okay this hurts a fucking ton. If David’s lying, I want him dead. If this is true, holy shit this is sad.

“A metamorphosis like that…” Jeez this is actually getting sad sad. Auch.

“I’ll never be a good person.” Ten, and the tenth hurts a LOT. I don’t think David’s lying, members of the jury. Holy shit this is sad. 

“It turns out that you might be a total piece of shit…” Holy shit I miss Arei already.

Eleven.

“Like Santa Claus…” Didn’t Charles bring up something like that talking with Teruko in the computer room? Interesting connection. I guess not “all that glitters,” yeah.

“It’s okay that I’ll never be a good person, because no one else can be either.” Okay, first; twelve. Second, ouch.

[I know my commentary's not exactly thrilling. Forgive me, I'm suffering]

“Even Eden.” And what does that mean?

[Eden with blood on her hands CG]

…

HUH????????????????????????????????????????

I can’t- Words- Not working. Hold on, I gotta see what the fuck is happening here.

[Pan to fork]

I’M EVEN MORE CONFUSED THAN BEFORE! WHAT THE FUCK?!

It has four prongs, which matches the Xander one. Did Eden take out Xander’s eye? How in the actual fuck? No chance, right? I’m just going insane?

“I’m sure even Eden has hurt someone” (Paraphrased). Brain is still not working. Sorry.

“Even someone like her must have made a mistake she couldn’t take back” WE ARE GETTING DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO SECRET QUOTE WORDING!

We’re just moving on? That shit didn’t happen? I’m fucking sorry?

I can’t even- Does this imply fucking MM!Eden? I don’t think so, she doesn’t look like she wanted to- WAS it Xander she stabbed? Again, how? What? I’m so confused. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO US DEV! I NEED ANSWERS!!!

“Second ever friend…” Ouch ouch ouch-

Another “good people” btw.

[Arei CG] That’s the fucking- THAT LOOKS LIKE THE FUCKING GIRL FROM LGI?!?!?!

Like, obviously they look different, but that’s the same pose, with the hand and everything- WHAT?!

Is Arei/David a ship? It’ll probably be one after this. 

“Nothing-” You absolute piece of shit. Holy shit David, when I get my hands on you David…

“Nothing else happened between us, I promise.” Wow. Who would’ve thunk this is how I come to fucking despise a man so much while he simultaneously rises in my fave characters ranking, huh? Holy hell.

“One hundred percent promise-” I get more mad every line. That’s good character writing, folks. Jesus.

I can’t read Eden this episode. Still think she’s the culprit lol.

“Finally.” Yeah, Teruko. Same.

[By the way, the next section has a lot of me rambling about my own theories, so if you don't know them, here's a link to the latest, now likely outdated version]

“From that low of height…” I like where we’re going.

“I’m starting to realize how long it's taken to get here.” (Paraphrased) Yeah, Whit. Yeah.

“Some people had to wait one year and five months-” PFFFT- Also Whit’s reaction means he’s not fully fourth wall aware, which is cool.

NON-STOP DEBATE! LET’S DO IT! 

[Sees truth bullet] Yes! The jugs were used as weights! Tell me I’m right about this!

YEAH! I GOT IT RIGHT! Also Veronika’s “consent” animation is… uuh… very ‘Ronika if you catch my drift. I love it!

“Those jugs ended up breaking…” You know it! I wonder if maybe they didn’t have time to clean the fish? But they could have gotten water literally elsewhere, so they clearly did use them for alibi.

“The jugs alone aren’t enough…” (Paraphrased). Yeah, we gotta go higher. Like, the girders at the top…?

“... rafters on the ceiling.” Yeah!!! Wrong name but I also got this right!

“It must have been one long rope…” Or two, because you need the stopper.

“Oh, wait, you’re agreeing with me. Yes.” Funny, laughed.

“The rafters were way too high…” Ball of clothes, come on.

“...something like a pulley…” Yeah, Whit knows what I’m talking about! The fact he’s being helpful makes him less suspicious. Finally, he managed to open his mouth without incriminating himself of something!

“High location…” Are we actually doing stopper rope? My guess is that that’s when we’ll get teacher Teruko.

“In drop hanging…” Okay, first, love the monologue. Second, is there a reason you know so much about drop hanging? Did your mother…? I guess it’s not necessary. I also came to the same conclusions and I don’t have any history with the stuff. 

“We also know she didn’t hit the ground-” Does anyone have a counter of tasteless Whit jokes? Just checking.

“Aren’t I so smart…” And we’re back to kinda incriminating ourselves, because you're denying pulley method. Fantastic.

WOO! ANOTHER NON-STOP! Let me guess, “spinny thing” is the truth bullet?

“Tape on carousel.” Close enough. Although, hold on, are we actually gonna go “stopped with hands?” No chance, right?

Also am I stupid or does Arturo’s VA sound different in the debates?

Yeah btw Levi!Accomplice is dead and buried, I need to find other ways for Eden to have done this.

I like that Teruko still calls it a spinny thing :p

Wow, everyone’s correcting her, huh? I guess I’m the only one that appreciates her smh.

“...when I need to correct the killer’s grammar.” Funny comeback, but you know, the letter does actually have quite a few spelling errors.

Yay! Teacher Teruko! She looks so cute with glasses!

Also I cannot believe it. These Microsoft-Paint ass diagrams remind me of when I did them too lol.

Oh, shit, under the seesaw! That’s a good one, Teruko! I didn’t catch that. (Then again, I always thought the seesaw was in a different place, but oh well).

Is that dog ears Whit? My guy, you know Charles dislikes dogs, right? Then again, you do canonically have negative rizz, so :p

Oh, tying the rope! Not quite a stopper rope, but same concept. Yeah, would work. Good one Teruko!

“The carousel is made of smooth metal.” THAT’S WHAT THE TAPE WAS FOR! Clutch.

Oh shit, is the cliffhanger going to be the tape’s origin?

“I’ve seen this murder method before.” Okay, wait. One, no origin of tape. That’s big for Eden!Culprit: My current guess is that someone (ie Veronika) will want to discuss the Ace-Nico thing, which will lead to them discovering Eden took the tape. Two, what the fuck do you mean you’ve seen this before?!

“You have?” Looking kinda worried there, Eden…

“And so have you.” Okay am I forgetting something? Min’s execution wasn’t like this, what the hell…

“Me?” Eden, honey, the allegations…

“We’re going to talk about a different case…” Oh shit Teruko’s got the Ace method figured out? I would really love to hear that because I have no idea what the hell was happening with that one. Also, I called it! Didn’t expect it to be Teruko who brought us back to the Ace case, but still. 

“Explain yourself, Nico.” YEAH!!!! I’m actually really excited. I’m gonna look into revising my theory on that case before the next episode, see if I can figure it out, since I think the old methods I’ve discussed with others don’t quite line up with what Teru’s describing. 

What an episode!

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

General Thoughts:

Holy shit. Just. So much happened. It’s too much peak.

The Eden CG is the first thing on my mind; that’s crazy. Did she really take out Xander’s eye? I have zero idea what else I would be looking at. Certainly not MM!Eden, too obvious, but I don’t know what’s happening there. No fucking idea. I might make a more detailed post when I get my thoughts in order, but all I’m saying; the possibility the girl she kissed was Mai? That Mai told her about Teruko, and Eden attacked Xander in the pre-prologue killing game to protect Teruko? Hmm…

The secrets are huge, too. Nothing wild, given like 75% of the fandom had assumed these secrets anyways, but still nice to get them all. The Levi explanation was fascinating, but I don’t know what the fuck it has to do with the trial. Was it really a pointless aside? I don’t know…

The Arei scene was fucking insane even outside the Eden CG. Stabbed through the heart, haven’t felt that sad since Min’s death, and, yeah…

Not to mention, the fucking “Ideal Country Woman from LGI” looking ass frame. At least I finally got my answer; it was a wrist bend, not a glove. 

And David. David. Why are you like this. I genuinely can’t tell why he does anything anymore.

Finally, I love the Taylor mention, that’s insane. And Veronika has a darker secret? She really wants those MM allegations, huh? Jokes aside, I’m really curious about both those things. I kinda wonder if somehow the students will see the motive videos from Trial 1, since we’re hearing about Taylor and I’m hoping Alyssa later.

Just… Holy shit this episode was awesome. Cannot wait for next week.

First Impression Murder Theory Updates

It’s looking like Levi!Accomplice will end up being a nice AU and nothing more, although I’m not 100% ruling it out. That said, I’m still pretty confident in Eden!Culprit, especially with how we mentioned the tape on the spinny thing was easy to grip, but no one’s made the connection to the gym yet. 

The big thing to solve in the Arei case, then, is how Eden got the fish. There’s a few other accomplices she could have, but those are looking rough unless she somehow got Arei to do it. That said, I’m considering the possibility that she took the minnows ultra early, before Nico started feeding them. That would explain how they didn’t notice there were a few missing the night before; they just never counted the ones in the jugs in the first place. That has issues too, but I’ll see about it. 

That said, I’m pretty happy with myself! I got a lot of the major points of the pulley system right. The only thing is the “stopper rope vs tie a knot” thing, but the principle is similar enough. We’ll see about things like the ball of clothes to put the rope over the rafters. There’s still plenty of murder to discuss. 

As for the Ace case… It’ll need a full review later. If it’s supposed to be similar to Arei’s case, I really have no clue what the hell was happening there. Though I guess the ridiculous wire circuit I made might actually have some merit, given we're doing some kind of pulley?

... Maybe not :p

I have no further insight; I just need to look at it again.

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

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Watching this episode took me like two hours and a half while writing this… this almost 4k word post… so… yeah. Gods save me if there actually is an hour long episode left. See ya’!

[myownwholewildworld]

iii. like obsidian & quartz - acta, non verba

chapter 2 | series masterlist | ao3 | main masterlist | chapter 4 (soon) pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: your efforts to get the ball rolling on your plan get shunted aside by marcus' chivalry. a/n: hey, hi, hello! i'm sorry it's taken me a month to post the third chapter, but here it is! 💖 i do find posting this series a bit nerve-wracking, just because i have the feeling that this plot is bigger than my writing skills so i keep wondering if i'm making it justice. but i'm rolling with it anyways haha as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. some impure thoughts. one account of a handjob (👀). sexual tension. misogyny. a fair bit of swearing. sword fight, death, wounds, blood... you know the drill. dialogue in italics means it’s spoken in gaelic (unless stated otherwise, i.e. latin) when marcus and callie are in the same scene. marcus is 48, ofc!reader is 26. w/c: ~9.9k. (i'm truly sorry) dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Here again, wee lass?” Cormag’s croaky voice caught you off guard.

You jumped in place and almost hit the back of your head against the shelf above.

You were bent over a pile of baskets in the kitchen, trying to count how many wild parsnips there were left. With your family gone, you had to look after your people. You worried there was not much left to eat, but the old cook seemed to be good at rationing. The Romans had no measure when it came to food, rapidly dwindling the stock saved for the village. There were way too many mouths to feed now, and the first harvest of the root vegetables would not be for at least another six months.

Your blood boiled when you saw the feasts the Romans were served every night while the servants had a measle chunk of bread and a watered-down broth. You were all living under tyranny — one you hoped to topple. Only if fucking Marcus Acacius was not such a tight cunt, you would be closer to your goal.

It wasn’t for your lack of trying though. Every night you were as suggestive as you could, considering how many pairs of eyes were watching you — enemies’ and allies’ alike. The first lusting after you, wondering if you were a whore who could warm up their bed at night, and the second curious about what game you were up to. Not many people were privy to your plan.

“Ah, ye ogre! You scared the shit out of me,” you chuckled, hand on pounding heart, when you turned around to face him.

Cormag’s thick brows knitted together, his big, round nose red with rage.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you around here until at least tomorrow,” he barked, arms folded with disapproval.

“Come on, Cormag. I’ll work tonight and then—”

“Nay, I don’t want to hear it. You are not working tonight. You’ve worked the last eight nights in a row,” he said between gritted teeth. “I want you to go home to Bonnie and rest.”

You huffed, now your turn to cross arms.

“I need no rest. I am fresh as a daisy, couldn’t be better,” you lied through your teeth.

The reality was you were knackered. You had been helping out in the kitchens day and night, much to Cormag’s despair. If you were not doing a stock check, you were shuffling stuff around for the next meal or cleaning after those filthy, mannerless soldiers. And you were the savages, the cheek they had was beyond you.

“Don’t bullshit me, I can see right through it. Those grey circles under your eyes are screaming for some sleep,” he replied, getting closer to you.

His heavy hands landed on your shoulders, forcing you to turn around and pushing you towards the door. You resisted, digging your heels into the cobblestone.

“Cormag, mas e do thoil e (please)! If I go home, I’m just going to get bored. I need something to occupy my mind with,” you pleaded with him, but he was deaf as a rock to your request.

“The whole point of sleeping is to empty your mind, not to occupy it with something,” he stopped dragging you once you were through the arch.

Sleep had evaded you since your whole family had been murdered. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Marcus’ gladius sinking in your father’s belly, your brothers’ and sister’s intertwined arms as they burnt to ashes, your mother’s mangled body while the Earth swallowed her whole. As if you didn’t have enough demons as it was, tragedy had knocked on your door once more — unannounced, greedy even.

You spun around, flashing your eyelashes at him, puppy eyes and all. Cormag just shook his head no, unwavering, and pointed towards the corridor that would lead you outside.

“I want you out of my sight for one day, fear beag (little one). Humour me, I beg you,” it was almost a prayer, but you knew Cormag did not have one sanctified bone in his body.

“Okay, just one night. But I’ll be back tomorrow!” You shouted over your shoulder, a proper threat, as you sauntered towards the hall.

It was still the early evening, but the courtyard was brimming with life. There were a few legionaries dotted around, swords at the ready. They seemed to train late into the night before they burst in into the great hall to eat and drink like gluttons.

As your feet slithered through the wet grass, you suddenly felt a heavy pair of eyes on you. Brown, beautiful— no, dreadful eyes, you were sure. You didn’t need to look to know that Marcus was watching your every step — your body burnt hot every time he would study you with so much intensity.

And he was doing that again, just now. You debated whether to lock eyes on him or not, but it was a lost fight. Soon enough, your green orbs located him in his black and golden armour walking towards the keep, mud up to his knees and a wild look on his face. One you had not seen before — a crack in his steadfast façade.

Your brows slightly furrowed, almost coming to a halt, while you tried to understand what was different. Then you saw it: his sword was stained with blood. He was not coming back from training, but… from battle? Your heartrate spiked; your eyes slightly widened as your fingers clutched a fist of your long skirt.

What battle? What had happened? What was going on? Who had he hurt? Did you know them? Had you lost someone dear? Was death knocking at your door once more?

You tamed your features as he approached, putting on your best act as you calmed down your quick breathing. His eyes never left yours, not while he walked from the portcullis to the keep, not once.

As he got to where you were, he nodded in your direction, as if to say, “don’t worry, I’m okay.” You then understood he mistook your concern, thinking it was for him. Oh, how wrong he was… You were not worried about him in the slightest, but about whoever succumbed to his sword.

As soon as he and his retinue disappeared into the keep, you bunched your skirt up and started running towards the village, dreading what you might find there.

Five minutes later, you were in the town’s square. A crowd was gathered around the stone well. The shrieking cry of a mother cradling his dead son pierced through the silence, boring into your heart.

“My wee lad, mo mhac (my son)!” Her screams formed a knot in your throat, one so tight you feared you could not breath.

You forged your way through the multitude, finding the woman on her knees, hugging her son close to her chest. You knew them — you knew everyone in your lands, if not by face, by name at least. These you knew by face and name.

Torcall was standing right behind her, blood on his clothes indicating he had been the one bringing the lad back for his mother to mourn.

Torcall’s sombre expression prevented you from saying anything, even when you looked at him for answers. He just shook his head no and turned around to speak to a young man. You quickly recognised him too, Dòmhnall — son to the grieving woman, brother to the deceased boy. Dòmhnall nodded to Torcall’s words and vanished.

Torcall made his way towards you and pushed you aside.

“What the fuck is going on, Torcall?”

“People are growing restless, Callie. The Romans were by the firth, training in the murky waters. Some lads saw Acacius alone for one second and thought they could take him,” he didn’t need to explain what the outcome had been.

“What were they thinking? Taking on the General? How old were they?”

“Around ten and five. When Acacius killed the boy, his friends panicked, dragged him out and retreated. I found them in the woods. The others were lucky to escape alive,” Torcall sighed heavily and so did you.

“We all need to be careful here. We’ve got to play the long game. Once we have enough information from them, then we can start planning some skirmishes to diminish their numbers, but not before,” you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration as you both walked towards Bonnie’s.

“People don’t listen to reason when they feel threatened,” he looked at you askance, then back down to his feet, momentarily lost in thought. “You need to speak to some people, let the rumour spread that you’re working towards freedom — otherwise they’ll feel like they’ve been forgotten, and rightfully so. Let people know that they will need to be ready to fight when you command them. Give them some hope, something to look forward to.”

You didn’t want to show your hand too early, but Torcall was partially right. If this continued, if people tried to get their own justice, it would end up being more tragic than what ought to be. You could not endure more senseless loss of life, your clansmen dying for naught.

Your plan was so clear in your head, a simple to-do list —gain Marcus’ trust, kill off his army little by little, then finish him once he was the last man standing— but yet you hoped effective. If someone deviated, if someone betrayed you, then it would all be over way too soon. And you would end up like your mother — left for dead, hung in a cage off the keep as if you were a rat exposed to the elements.

“My athair’s retinue are already in the know,” you thought out loud, lips pouting with doubt. “But I did make them swear they would not tell a soul.”

Torcall propped open the wooden door to Bonnie’s crannog, the creaking noise welcoming you to the only home you knew now.

“I’ll go speak to my cousins, Seumas and Anndra, tomorrow. I know how eager they are to start a war, so this might appease them. I don’t want people up in arms just yet, we’ll wait for the Romans to be at their lowest,” you whispered back to him.

“Uhm, maybe—” Torcall’s voice got drown by the ones of his children.

“Auntaidh, auntaidh (auntie)!”The synchronised cacophony of your niece and nephew swept away part of the guilt you were feeling, forcing a wide smile onto your lips.

“I don’t think she’s here tonight, Marcus,” Maximus jest made his head turn to his direction.

With a cocked brow, Marcus feigned ignorance, the wooden fork in his hand mindlessly pushing around a lone meatball on his plate.

“Who?” He asked, as if neither of them knew who Maximus was referring to.

Your presence in the great hall every night had become a welcomed sight, one he had grown used to over the last few days. Not because it was soothing, but because it caused havoc. That was what he welcomed — someone who was not taken aback by his presence, someone who would hold his gaze and wouldn’t fold, someone who would shamelessly say his first name the way you said it nine nights ago.

And if he was entirely honest with himself, he also welcomed your advances. Not that he was showing it, but every taunting Dux Meus (my General/Leader/God), every suggestive glance, every time you touched him, his skin would set ablaze. It was just a harmless game, as long as it remained just that. He was here to do a job, and nothing should get in the way of that — even if a red-haired, green-eyed nymph tempted him down the path of infidelity.

How hypocritical of him to think of all the things he would do to you if given the chance, when he despised his wife for doing exactly that.

“What was her name? Connie? Charlie?” Maximus tapped his chin with one finger, pretending to think.

“Callie,” Marcus bit the bait without realising.

“Ah, yes. Callie. How could you forget when the poor woman has been throwing herself at you for more than a week now and you have given her nothing in return?” The commander observed with an ample grin. “Have you claimed her yet? Fucked her?”

His whole body went rigid with rage at Maximus’ provocation. Sometimes he hated his friendship with him, the liberties he took even though he was above the man in the command chain. If it wasn’t because there were still people on the dais, Marcus would have punched him square in the jaw to shut him up.

Instead, his eyes darted to his friend’s with a dark warning in them. Maximus laughed it off, leaning back on his chair and looking at him with a mischievous smile.

“I’ll take that as a no then. I bet she’s tired of being ignored and that’s why she’s not here tonight. Maybe she’s fucking one of your legionaries in the barracks right now. Damn, maybe I’ll do that myself—”

“Are you fucking done?” He interrupted, the legs of his chair screeching as he dragged it backwards to stand up.

“Have I touched a nerve now?” Maximus’ smile just grew bigger as he stood up too, palming Marcus’ shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, old friend. Helping you, actually. You need to get laid, clear your mind of war for one night. Your hair is greyer now than what it was a month ago.”

“I don’t need your advice nor your teasing. It may be all fun and games to you, but there’s a lot on the line here,” Marcus sneered as they walked down the corridor formed by cheery and drunk soldiers sat at their tables.

He wasn’t worried about his reputation but all the debts he owed. Not him, specifically, but his wife. The lush life she led at home would ruin him eventually.

Maximus’ demeanour changed, hands laced on his back and head bowed down in deep thought.

“I know what’s at stake, Marcus. We all are doing what we can to find the instigator,” only then Marcus realised that Maximus was talking about the attempt on his life that afternoon. “Valerius’ henchman was able to follow the boy into the forest. He’s definitely dead.”

He said it as if it was good news, but that death would haunt Marcus at night. It had been just a boy, probably not more than ten and six, who had met his fate at his sword. Marcus had tried to keep him at bay, but when the boy lunged forwards with a small knife on his hand, he basically impaled himself on the gladius Marcus was holding to ward him off.

“Good to hear,” he replied with a flat, lacking voice.

Maximus angled his head, then shook it.

“Good night, Marcus. I’ll let you know if I see your Callie entertaining the men in the barracks,” Maximus waved him goodbye, light-heartedly.

“Sod off,” he rolled his eyes, before turning the corner.

A tiny part of him wanted to go after his friend and check himself, make sure you were not fucking another man.

That thought made him frown. What you did or didn’t do was none of his business. In fact, you were a free woman and could do as you pleased. Even if that meant you were not pleasing him.

You threw the saddle on Kelpie’s back — she was your late mother’s horse. The horse was as black as coal with a shiny, short coat. She was a young one, so still needed a fair amount of training — at least, she was properly socialised. Mòrag had died before she could train her newest addition. This horse was, most probably, the closest you would ever be to your màthair (mother).

The mare neighed loudly when you tried to adjust the saddle on her belly and moved around nervously, trotting in place to put distance between you two. You shushed her, caressing her muzzle and chin groove.

“Shh, shhh… It’s okay, àlainn (lovely). I see you don’t like that, do you?” You whispered in a calming manner until the mare quietened down.

You leaned forward until your forehead pressed against hers and then placed a gentle kiss on the bridge of Kelpie’s nose before reaching towards her back to remove the untied saddle.

“Barebacking it is then,” the idea didn’t thrill you, but you didn’t fancy walking all the way to Bun Craobh (Bunchrew).

That morning you had gone out to the barn to speak to Anndra and Seumas, only to find out they were no longer there. When you went back into the crannog, Bonnie mentioned they had left the morning prior. Something about a carpentry job in the next town over required their attention, or that was they had told their mother.

You had a nagging feeling that wasn’t true. The siblings were ardent defenders of your family, so you knew they would not stand idly. What brought them to Bun Craobh though, you were not sure but intended on finding out.

You led Kelpie out of the stables and into the courtyard of your castle. You hoped no one would notice you sneaking out with a horse that allegedly didn’t belong to you, but you were obviously out of luck — had been for a while now.

“Hey, puella (young lady)! Where do you think you’re going with that horse?” One of the roman soldiers cut you off, hands on hips and a deep frown. You recognised him from sitting on the dais with Marcus, although you didn’t know his name.

You cursed him under your breath, but composed a sweet smile, when you just wanted to knee his balls and run past him.

“I’m in need of a horse. We are out of some herbs and spices in the kitchens, so I was going to visit the town’s healer…” You explained with your eyes averted down and fingers laced in front of you.

“I’ll take care of this, Cassius,” Marcus appeared on his back, a heavy, broad and very masculine hand landing on the shoulder of the man in front of you.

For a brief second, you saw a flicker of disgust in his eyes, but Cassius quickly masked it with a deferent nod before walking away. Your eyes followed him, curious as to what you had just seen. Did Cassius despise Marcus? Why?

“Where are you going, Callie?” The General’s deep, throaty voice made you look in his direction.

For a second, you got lost in his chocolate eyes — there was an almost imperceptible sadness in them, a tinge of regret that seemed to haunt him every day and every night. How could that possibly be when he dispatched people to their deaths so mindlessly, so effortlessly?

“Cormag needs some bits for his cooking, Dux Meus,” you explained again, and there it was.

His irises darkened with the last two words, the sadness transforming into something else — liquid darkness. You held his gaze, hypnotised by how the desire rapidly kicked the sadness out of him. And you knew he was holding onto every bit of his control, taming his body not to react to your words — but his eyes he could not govern. They were a window to his lust.

You fought with your own craving. The way he stared at you made your skin run hot as ember and slick pool in your slit. You had been wondering what it would feel like to be fucked raw by a man like Marcus Acacius; you had even fantasized about it a few nights.

An donas dubh (dammit)! If it wasn’t for how crowded Bonnie’s crannog was, you would have even touched yourself to the thought of him plunging in and out between your thighs.

That idea was so foreign to you, it took you aback.

“Is that okay?” His question lingered; Marcus’ head tilted with knitting brows.

You looked at him doe eyed as you came out of your wet haze. Fuck, stop imagining things, he’s right there talking to you! You reprimanded yourself before blinking a few times to clear your mind.

“I-I’m sorry, Dominus (Master)?” The slight stammer in your voice was not faked this time around.

“I said I’ll accompany you to wherever you need to go. It’s not safe out there, even less so for a lonely maid serving the Romans,” he repeated.

That offer shocked you because you were not expecting such gallantry from him. You also had to smother a snicker — you were not at risk of anything, this was your land, your people. But Marcus did not know that.

“Oh, it’s not necessary, my lord. I know my way around—”

“I insist. Please,” he added, his fists curled on his sides.

If the look in his eyes indicated anything, that would be that Marcus Acacius would not accept no for an answer. And that would mess your whole itinerary up, because you could not take him to Bun Craobh, in case your cousins were really planning something. Now you would really have to go to Naimh’s new cottage, even though that was not your plan at all.

“Awright, aye,” you conceded, an unwilling smile crooking your lips.

“I didn’t see you last night in the great hall,” Marcus broke the surprisingly comfortable silence.

He was riding on your left and you couldn’t help but turn your head to watch him. So, your efforts were going somewhere at last. For eight nights you had been on his heels, serving him as if that was what you were born to do. Your attempts at seducing him began to be so obvious, you could hear the other maids giggling to themselves every time you leaned over his shoulder, offering him a clear sight of your generous cleavage.

Even his soldiers had noticed. You had been so obvious, other men thought you were a pleasure woman and that was invitation enough for some of them to try and reach for your ass whenever you approached their tables. Disgusting behaviour, but you had to laugh your way out of it and slap some hands so no one would take offense at your rejection.

“Cormag would not let me work again. I really wanted to be there though,” you said truthfully, watching him in the corner of your eye.

Marcus straightened his back, as if suddenly uncomfortable, and studied your surroundings.

It was still early afternoon, but it seemed to be later due to the thick tree canopy above you. You were travelling westward through the dense forest that neared Beauly Firth. Naimh had moved to a crannog in the road to Bun Craobh after her home in Loch Moy had been burnt to ashes. Thankfully, she had not been home when it happened. A small win in your book.

“I see. He worries about you,” he noted, jaw tight as he spoke.

“Aye, he’s like a father to me,” that old git really was. “I should be back to work tomorrow.”

“Good,” he replied without even thinking and you knew he did not intend to say that out loud. “I mean, you’re one of the few people who speak Latin. It’s hard to communicate with the rest,” Marcus added swiftly to veil his slip of tongue.

You smiled to yourself, realising this was the first time you two were alone, away from prying eyes.

“You only need to ask, Marcus,” you whispered, your voice charged with the right hint of suggestion and provocation.

His neck snapped in your direction at your words.

“Ask what?”

He knew exactly what. The man was stubborn as a mule, playing hard to get. But he was not immune to your advances, as much as he wanted to conceal his lust for you.

“You know what,” was your simple answer before spurring Kelpie on with the heels of your leather shoes.

You spotted a small hut between some trees off the main path, that had to be the crannog that Naimh had found in her search for a new home. You had seen that cottage a few times before, always abandoned and eerie — legend said that was where the wisps would lead you at night.

Kelpie sprinted towards it, and you heard Marcus’ horse neigh a few feet behind you. You needed to act fast before good ol’ Naimh gave you away and revealed your identity. So, the moment you dismounted and Naimh was under the frame of the main door, you threw your arms around her neck.

She was a fragile woman in her late sixties, white hair and wrinkling skin. Her nose a tad too prominent, her lips wide and big, slanted eyes. She was tiny too, with a crouched back that made her look even smaller.

“Naimh!” You exclaimed excitedly, and then whispered in her ear in Gaelic, “He doesn’t know who I am. Call me Callie, play along, please.”

The old woman stilled and then patted your back in understanding.

“Ah, my sweet Callie, so good to see you. I started to think you’d forgotten about this old crone. This how you treat the elderly?” She spoke in your native language, which meant Marcus would not understand a word.

“He doesn’t understand, Naimh, you don’t need to put on the best act of your life, just be mindful of my name,” you sniggered, holding her hands with both of yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“So have I, leannan (darling), so have I,” she squeezed your hands before dropping hers to her sides, her eyes squinting with a bit of hatred.

Marcus cleared his throat, standing right behind you. You stepped aside.

“General, this is Naimh, our town’s healer. Naimh, this is General Acacius,” you introduced them in Latin, although you were sure Naimh did not understand much.

“My pleasure,” he bowed his head slightly while Naimh stared him down as if he was a snake trying to steal the eggs off her nest.

The old woman just grunted and walked back inside, not responding to his pleasantry.

Shrugging, you looked at Marcus.

“Don’t mind her too much, she’s not really fond of anyone,” that much was true.

“She’s fond of you,” he pointed out with a raised brow.

“Well, yeah, that’s because I pester her a lot. I can be very insisting.”

“You definitely are,” he muttered under his breath, not intended for your ears, but you heard that.

With a sufficient grin, you turned on your heels and got inside the crannog with Marcus right behind you.

By the time you were done with the visit, it was almost pitch-black outside. The weather, as everything in the Highlands, had turned too — it was dreich and drizzling, a light, damp mist hanging low, close to the ground.

You attached the thread of the little hemp sack around your waist as you waved goodbye to Naimh. She had given you an assortment of different spices she had stocked up: wild mountain thyme, dried pepper dulse and coriander grass. You were not sure if Cormag needed them, but you had to keep up with the lie in Marcus’ presence.

Both horses were lazily grazing around. They looked so different—Marcus’ white as a quartz, yours black as obsidian—they reminded you of how opposite you both were. Ironic, really, that the mare and the stallion were now approaching each other and rubbing necks.

“Kelpie,” you called her. Your mother’s horse barely looked at you, too busy grooming the back of Marcus’ horse with her teeth. “Hey!”

Kelpie almost brayed like a donkey, showing her annoyance, before she cantered towards you with a loud neigh.

“Oi, calm down. We’ve got to go back,” you asked of her, grabbing the reins.

“Kelpie? That’s an unusual name,” Marcus said while he jumped onto his horse’s back graciously.

Your mother had let you choose the name when it was first born, in one of your last visits to your family home as a married woman. A brief respite shared with Mòrag where you had forgotten who you were married to — you had spent the whole afternoon coming up with uncommon names and had finally settled for Kelpie.

“It’s a creature that inhabits lochs. They are shape-shifting spirits that usually take the form of a black horse,” you explained as you managed to get on top of the mare. A difficult task, considering there was no saddle to hold onto. “Some people say they are evil because they prey on us. They drag their victims into the water, devour them, and throw the entrails to the water's edge, so they can lure their next casualty. I think that’s just survival. There is no treachery in their nature.”

By the time you had finished talking, you were by Marcus’ side. His eyebrows almost touched each other, and you wondered if he had picked on your cutting remark about treachery. Whether he did or not, you did not know.

“Are they just stories to scare children away from deep water or are they real?” He questioned after a deliberating minute as both of your horses resumed the path ahead.

“I have never seen a kelpie myself, but I know folk who have perished to them,” you shrugged, the image of dismembered bodies by Loch Ness coming back to you. “It’s not a pretty picture.”

“I bet. Your people seem to have many stories about lurking creatures. I have seen the tapestries telling the story of the dragon-like monster living in the lake nearby,” he said with a pinch of incredulity in his voice.

“Loch. We call them lochs, not lakes,” you corrected him.

“Sorry, loch,” he said back with a soft ch, head cocked towards you. It was a good attempt.

“And that would be Nessie. She’s a staple around here, everyone loves her,” you joked. “She’s a Kelpie, but one which transforms into some sort of dragon. I’m not sure though, never seen her myself. But if you ever speak to Cormag, he’ll tell you all about her. Best mates they are, so he says.”

As soon as you spoke of the cook, you realised your mistake. You were talking too much, telling him all about a land he hated, a land he wanted to steal from you. A land he would destroy along with all its people. There was no point in explaining to him all about what made Caledonia special if he was here to wreck your life.

“The cook?” He pressed and you simply nodded, remaining silent.

For ten minutes neither of you talked. Weirdly, the silence was not ever bothersome. You didn’t have the need to fill it, and neither did he.

Until he did.

“My stud’s name is Faun,” he muttered, resuming the dead conversation where you had left it.  The stallion’s ears perked up at the sound of his name. “They are half-human, half-goat creatures. They inhabit forests like this back home. Some say they instil fear in travelling men and drive them to madness, others say they can guide you to safety. Never encountered one myself either.”

You turned your head around to glance at him. His story was strangely similar to yours, just adapted to his own beliefs. How could two very different people share something so unique as your love for mythical creatures?

“They sound beautiful. And before you judge me for saying that… beauty is on the eye of the beholder,” you added with a mellow laugh. You found goats endearing.

Marcus’ serious expression softened. “Evil or not, I do think they are too.”

Your eyes locked for an eternal second and you wondered why there was an unfamiliar feeling sitting low in your belly.

A split second was all it took to make you snap out of whatever brief connection you suddenly felt.

You heard the whistling sound before you saw the arrow sticking out of Marcus’ left shoulder, in that unprotected spot where the shoulder pad met the breastplate. The arrow had flown just a few inches away from your ear.

Marcus’ eyes widened as reality settled in. Out of nowhere, three men emerged from the woods, face painted with soot—the whites of their eyes sparkled under the full moon.

The sudden movement scared off Kelpie, who harshly stirred around and started galloping towards the trees with no regard for her rider—you. You managed to hold on to the low branches of the trees, Kelpie slipping from between your thighs as the mare ran towards safety alone, leaving you hanging from a branch.

The clink of metal behind you forced you to let go of the branch, landing on your feet like a graceful cat. When you turned around, you saw that Marcus had dismounted Faun. His stud, at least, had not abandoned his rider to the mercy of his enemies the same way your mare had. Little traitorous horse.

“Get back!” Marcus shouted at you as he repositioned his body between you and the threat of the threesome.

But they were no threat to you, you were sure. They were here to kill him. The same way some fucking kids had tried to end him that very afternoon. Were people plain, thick gòrach (stupid)?

“People are growing restless,” Torcall had said to you yesterday. So much so they would endanger you too? Your cover? What were you supposed to do now?

If you helped them and Marcus survived, you would be dead before dawn, your cover blown.

If you helped them and Marcus died, Agricola would appoint a new man in Marcus’ stead. One that might not fit well into your plan. And you would be hunted down too.

If you helped him and they survived, they would go back to your folk and tell them all how you betrayed them, how you turned against them — how you protected the General.

If you helped him and they died… Your conscience would be tainted forever.

Or you could do nothing — let destiny run its course. The General deserved to die for what he had done to your family; it was actually only fair. But Marcus needed to be killed off at the right time — not sooner nor later. Just right, as a pig hung for slaughter on the first days of winter.

As the Romans would say, Alea iacta est (the dice is cast).

“Caileag fealltach (traitorous lass)!” One of the men screeched before leaping on you, sgian-dubh (small knife) on his left and a longer sword on his right hand.

The raucous sound of steel colliding sparked life back into you. Marcus’ gladius had curbed the attack. And with a thundering flourish of his sword, the edge of it hit the man’s side with deadly precision. The attacker crumbled to his knees, a fountain of blood varnishing the grass underneath.

“Mac na galla (son of a bitch), I’ll have your head for this!” The taller man cowed in Gàidhlig.

Marcus’ hand pushed you back — unbeknownst to you, you had taken a few steps forward, wanting to say something, anything to stop this madness.

Marcus and his opponent exchanged a few strident blows. Despite the General being substantially older than his adversary, his movements were more gracious, trained, measured, while the other man’s were sloppy and directionless. It was only a matter of minutes until one of them tired out, and your bet, regrettably, was on your clansman.

“What is a lass like you doing with a man like him? Are you his whore or what? Have you no shame, woman?” The recriminatory voice of the last man came to you in your mother tongue, albeit a slightly different accent.

He had swerved towards you while Marcus was distracted with the other man, too focused on the dance of swords. You were unarmed, this fight you would not win.

Your kinsman’s sword swayed in front of you, and you managed to jump back, avoiding the blade by a mere inch. Your eyes shot back to his, back slightly crouched, trying to predict his next movement.

A malicious smirk appeared on your opponent’s lips, as if he was enjoying himself.

“I’m going to send you to fucking Dubnos (Hell), so you can rot there with the low-lives you get involved with,” the threat was not veiled.

He lunged forward and you dropped to the floor — eyeing the dead man’s blood-soaked sgian-dubh, you grabbed it and held it close to your chest.

“I don’t think so. I don’t want to kill you, please,” you almost begged him between gritted teeth as you dragged yourself back a few feet, slowly getting up as Marcus’ fight unfolded fifteen yards away from where you stood.

A brief glance in his direction told you he was holding up alright, just as you knew he would. You had seen him in a sword fight before — your father had died because of it. Because of him.

“Kill me? You?” he laughed out loud. “You’re just a sad, little, useless woman. What do you think you can do to me? Bet the closest you have ever been to a knife is in a kitchen, where you fucking belong. There and warming up some man’s bed, but not his,” he barked back, almost looming over you.

What he just said struck you as odd. Did this man not know how many battles you had fought besides your father, your entire family, to protect your land, your clan?

You could not recognise him under all the soot, his hair tied back and covered in mud in a pretty good attempt at concealing his identity.

Before you could question him, he lunged forwards.

“Callie, no!” You heard Marcus’ call, a note of fear sullying his words.

An acute relief washed over him when the man in front of you fell to his knees, laying at your feet. A big, burgundy stain tarnished your blue dress around your belly area. A bloody knife was firm on your steady hand, your eyes devoid of emotion — had you done this before? Impossible, he thought to himself, she’s just a maid.

The relief just grew in his tight chest when your eyes locked with his. But what he saw in them caught him off guard — fear?

“Marcus!”

Then he felt it. The ripping of skin, the sinking of metal through flesh, then a few twists of the knife rearranging his guts for good measure — then warmth. Sticky, wet warmth soaking the woollen tunic underneath his armour.

“Die, bastard,” his attacker whispered in his ear, the words strangely clear to him.

Marcus’ eyes quickly drifted down to see one of those small knives the barbarians used, sunken down to its hilt on the left-hand side of his lower abdomen, right under his lorica. He didn’t feel the pain, not just yet — just rage.

He had disarmed his rival but blundered. He shouldn’t have, but the moment he realised you were no longer behind him, he frantically searched his surroundings to find you quite a few feet away from him, from his protection. He thought you dead when he saw you so close to that man, almost entrapped in an intimate embrace. Turned out, you could protect yourself alright.

His left fingers followed the red river dripping onto the ground, almost mesmerised by the sight of his own thick blood.

Snapping out of his trance and with shock still holding him upright, he effortlessly swung his sword — the other man eyeing him with fright, realising those were his last seconds on this worldly plane.

The head of the last man standing rolled off his shoulders and hit the ground with a sharp thud.

“No, Marcus, no! Don’t pull it out,” you whispered into his neck, your fingers wrapping around his on the hilt of the knife.

When did you bridge the distance? How were you so close? He hadn’t heard you. At all.

His mind went numb as more blood poured from his body, his speech slurred as his grasp on consciousness became looser by the minute.

“I need to—,” he mumbled, brows frowned and fingers tighter.

“No, you’ll bleed out. Please, listen to me. If you want to live, don’t fucking touch it,” your sweary prayer finally reached him, and he loosened up the grip on the knife. “Shite. Faun! Fucking shite, Faun! Come, boy, come!” He barely saw you waving down his horse — his sight going too.

Marcus fought to stay afloat, but the waves were relentless, bigger than him, pushing him down to the seabed. He was drowning.

“Can you— Fuck, Marcus, can you jump?”

He looked at you confused, then in front of him. Faun was standing right there, waiting for him to hop onto his back. His hand held on to the saddle but couldn’t bring himself up.

“Ad genua (to your knees), Faun,” he muttered in Latin, and the stallion knelt almost instantly.

“Thank the fucking gods he’s trained be…” Marcus didn’t hear the last of your sentence as he plummeted on top of Faun, the knife and arrow sinking further in his flesh.

If it wasn’t for his impending death, you would have been relieved when Marcus fainted.

“…trained better than my mother’s mare,” was how you ended your sentence. One that would have fucked your whole plan up. And your life too.

“Fuck, this is bad. Really bad,” you muttered to yourself frantically as you sat down on the saddle.

You pushed Marcus’ body up, making him sit upright facing you with his heavy, manly thighs over yours — your knees pressing hard around Faun’s back to keep your balance as the stud stood up. You cradled Marcus’ cheeks and lightly patted him.

“Marcus. Hey, wake up,” you whispered, uprooting no reaction from him whatsoever. “Fuck, I said wake up!” You slapped him harder this time, the sound ricocheting on the trees and the palm of your hand itchy — it shouldn’t given the circumstances, but smacking him felt damn good.

The General groaned but didn’t open his eyes. With your right forearm pressed against his chest, your fingers wrapped around the arrow on his left shoulder. With as much care as you could and trying not to wiggle the arrow, you snapped the shaft at the hafting with the help of your left hand.

Marcus did not complain, so he had to be really out of it right now. You let him lean forward with his sweaty forehead lodged in the crook of your neck — way too close for comfort. You detested his proximity, but your body had a mind of its own. His warm breath fanning your skin made your hair stand.

Not the fucking time.

“Focus, dammit,” you summoned all your strength.

You were closer to Naimh’s crannog than to the Inbhir Nis’ fortress. You did not know what other threats lied ahead and Marcus was in dire need of help — you could feel his blood dripping onto the saddle, staining Faun’s white coat. Naimh would have everything you required to patch him up and her hut was well hidden.

You looked in both directions, Faun patiently awaiting your command. You veered the reins to the left.

“Hyah, hyah!” You compelled the stallion with a subtle kick of your heels.

Faun darted forward, fast as a wildcat, and you wrapped your arm around Marcus’ waist to prevent him from falling sideways to the ground.

It only took you ten minutes to get to Naimh’s again. You reined Faun back and he came to a sudden stop just a couple of feet away from the door.

“Ad genua,” you said to the horse, remembering the General’s command, and Faun knelt.

By that point, Marcus’ mind was very far away. You threaded your arms under his and  dragged him all to the crannog. There was a red trickle all the way from the saddle to where you were now.

“Fuck,” with the heel of your foot, you kicked Naimh’s door. “Naimh, it’s me, open up!”

You heard the rustling of her feet as she sauntered towards the door, swinging it open. With your back towards her, you could not see her expression, but you bet on shock.

“Obh obh (oh dear), what’s happened? Are you hurt?” You could tell Naimh was extremely worried.

“I’m fine. Him… well, not so much. We’ve been attacked. I don’t know who sent those men, but they were out for blood,” you explained as you hauled him back inside.

Thank the gods you were strong enough to grab him by his shoulders and lay him down on Naimh’s bed.

“Did you recognise them?” She asked while searching for her healing kit — a basket with a sharp, small knife, some eyed needles made of bone, wool thread and a few different species of fresh plants and herbs.

“No, I didn’t. They covered their faces in soot and their hair with mud, I could barely tell they were human,” you omitted the fact that you had to stab one of them to death to keep your cover intact and also to save yourself. Naimh was a healer, she would not understand having to take someone else’s life voluntarily.

You, on the other hand, were used to it.

Your hands worked faster than your brain — you grabbed the knife and cut Marcus’ tunic, from the edge of the skirt to his hip, so you would have better access to the wound on his lower abdomen. That was the one which was profusely bleeding, while the arrowhead seemed to block the wound enough so it wouldn’t bleed too.

You focused your eyes on the wound and not on his almost-exposed lap. You had a job to do if you wanted him to survive this. Not wanted really, you needed him to survive for now, so he could die at the right time.

You pressed the injury with your left hand, the protruding blade lodged between your middle and index fingers, and then pulled curtly from the hilt of the sgian-dubh.

Marcus’ eyes flew wide open, a restrained groan ripping his throat. His hand tightly wrapped around your wrist, his arched back slightly off the straw cushion. His orbs were wild with pain — the veins on his neck chiselled on his skin, so pronounced you thought they would explode. You kept the pressure on the wound while pushing him back down onto the bed.

“It’s okay. Relax, I’ve got you,” you tried to calm him down. His big, brown eyes studied you, considering if he should trust you with his life. His fingers were so solidly wrapped around your wrist, you were sure he was restricting your bloodflow. “You have no other option. It’s me or whatever god of the dead you praise,” you muttered, holding his gaze.

With a painful grunt, he let go of your wrist and settled back down. His jaw was so clenched, you were almost worried he would break a tooth.

“Naimh, bring me a stick of wood or something for him to chew on while I stitch him up. And some wine,” you asked of the old woman.

Soon enough you had everything you needed. You offered the woodstick to Marcus, who quickly understood what it was for and opened his mouth. You placed it between his teeth and he bit down on it.

You quickly removed the heel of your hand from the seeping gash and poured wine over it to disinfect it. Marcus hissed in pain, muffled by the stick he was chewing. You patted the area with a rag to clean it and then extended your hand towards Naimh, palm up. She had already threaded the eyed needle.

“This is going to hurt,” you warned him before piercing the first layer of skin.

You focused on the task at hand, blocking out any distractions. The needle was not the sharpest, so you had to really puncture the skin to get it through to the other side — you were sure that Marcus hated every bone of yours every time the blunt tip of the needle stroked his skin.

The wound was very deep, probably too deep for sutures, but you had no other alternative. His attacker had really intended on gutting him like a cow — the skin was ripped around the edges, as if the man had twisted the blade several times once it had already sunk in Marcus’ flesh.

By the time you were done, it still looked gnarly, but at least it wasn’t bleeding so much now. You had been so absorbed in your doing, you had not realised that Marcus had fainted again — probably a combination of blood loss and pain had sent him straight to Aengus’ embrace, God of Dreams.

You knew he was completely unconscious when you pulled the arrow out of his shoulder and followed the same procedure with not a single complaint from him. The starred scar would heal better than the butchering on his tummy. You were no expert, but at least you gave him a fighting chance.

“Naimh, could you prepare one of your concoctions, please? We need to cover the wounds and aid the healing process. Otherwise it’s going to become infected,” you asked while packing away the stuff you had used off her basket.

You saw her shuffling some shelves in search of specific ingredients and let her do her job. After putting away the basket, you walked back to the bed Marcus was splayed on.

What a fucking sight.

The lorica still covered his torso, but you had removed the shoulder plates to have better access to the arrow. The tunic underneath the cuirass that hung from his waist down was ripped apart — you had to so you could patch him up. Just a few inches away, you knew, was the core of his manhood.

You wondered… Better not to dwell there for long.

Then there were his hairy, thick thighs, and a pair of leather sandals plaited around his muscular calves. The man’s anatomy spoke of power, vigour, strength.

Most of his visible skin, along with the tunic and armour, was stained in dry, scarlet blood. The picture in front of you, although suggestive, was gruesome, bordering on sadistic. So, you definitely should not feel the way you did — curious, too curious.

“Here,” Naimh’s offering brought you back. “Apply this to the wounds, should keep any festering at bay.”

“Tapadh leibh a Naimh (thank you),” you thanked her, taking the mortar from her hands.

The mixture looked gooey and greenish — pretty regular, considering there was a ton of aloe vera in it.

“Do you want me to send word to the castle, mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)?”, she offered, placing a little, fragile hand on your shoulder.

“Aye, if you don’t mind,” a brief pause to jog your memory. “Make sure it reaches Maximus, and Maximus only,” you added.

That commander seemed to be the closest thing to a friend Marcus had here. You had seen them on the dais, exchanging whispers and jests in a brotherly manner. Surely he would be someone Marcus would trust with his life.

“Na gabh dragh, measag (don’t worry, dear). You know my will-o'-wisps only reach those who I command them to,” her voice lowered, a sweet grin painted on her wrinkling face before vanishing through the door.

You knew Naimh came from a long bloodline of druids and sorceresses — she could be found attending to the coirtheachan (standing stones), ensuring they were clean with oblations left at their feet, speaking to animals and trees, or lighting fires with the mere snap of her fingers. Once, as a child, you saw how a wave of her hand over the flames made some sparks flicker away from the bonfire and dance through the air until they disappeared between some trees. The first wisps you had ever seen.

So when Naimh spoke of her will-o’-wisps, you did not question her one bit. You were one hundred percent sure that the message would get to Maximus in record time.

Your attention drifted back to the unconscious man on the bed. You needed to do something about the deplorable state he was in.

His eyelids were so heavy, his mind so foggy, Marcus was not able to open them just yet. Coming back to his senses would take all the strength he had left and that wasn’t much. His limbs felt weighty yet jelly-like too. How damn boorish of him if this was how he greeted death, unable to even shake hands with the Parcae (Fates).

A lifetime of bloodshed and war, and this was how his life would end, away from a real battlefield. What a shame.

His mind kept wandering and almost didn’t register a soft, velvety feeling on his right shin. It was warm and light, and it came and went like a gush of wind. That feeling, that touch, expanded to his thigh, his hip, his tummy, his chest. It was everywhere, right there on the confines on his imagination and on his damn skin.

Weird what the mind would come up with when on its last legs.

Slowly he drifted away again, and when Marcus came back to once more, he wasn’t sure how long it had been. Minutes. Hours. Days?

This time though, his senses flared alive. One more than the others — the sense of touch. The previous warmth, dry before, now was wet. It dripped and dripped, creating a river that ran down his thigh.

The heaviness that had him in a chokehold had softened, and so was able to move one hand, inspecting what that liquid warmth was. Blood?

“Don’t touch,” a firm yet soothing voice warned him.

Something wrapped around his wrist and placed his hand back down on the ground. No, not on the ground… on a bed?

After several attempts, Marcus managed to flutter his eyes open. White vision first, he blinked until the fog dissipated. And then he saw you there, sat by his side — inquiring, green eyes staring him down.

He held your gaze for what seemed like an eternity, while the memories flooded back. The arrow, the attackers, the sword fight, you stabbing that man to his death, the knife deeply lodged in his abdomen. The stitching, the painful stitching.

His eyes drifted down and only then did he realise that he was completely naked. Not even a thin piece of fabric covering him, no — absolutely, fucking nothing. Bare as the day he was fucking born.

Marcus’ eyes quickly shot to yours, his heart pounding wildly, as you held a damp rag on your hand.

“What the—,” he started to complain, his throat dry and coarse.

“No need to panic. I’m just washing the blood off you,” you explained matter-of-factly, unabashed even.

“My armour, my clothes…” was the only thing he managed to mutter.

“Your armour is now clean, and your clothes are drying over there in front of the hearth. I’ve washed them for you. You’re welcome,” you replied sneeringly, rolling your eyes, as you resumed what you were doing prior to being interrupted by his questioning.

You placed the rag back down on his inner thigh and rubbed, the dried blood coming off his skin albeit with some difficulty. Too fucking close to… Fuck, I rather fucking die. He stopped your hand again, teeth gritting.

“I can do this myself,” Marcus protested.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You think I’ve not seen a naked man before? I’m a widow, Marcus. You don’t have anything I have not seen before,” and then you scrubbed his skin some more, moving upwards and stopping just inches shy of his groin.

Marcus held his breath and closed his eyes, summoning all the self-control he could muster. He really had to focus to reign the most primal reaction a man could have when a woman was touching him. He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose, jaw clenched, as he started counting backwards from one hundred.

The General needed a distraction — if he thought about your hand so damn close to his cock, he would fucking lose it. Would throw you onto that uncomfortable mattress and would fuck some sense into you for playing with fire. Teach you a lesson or two. Maybe three.

As soon as that thought formed, he had to put it out quickly. One would think that a near-death experience would knock some sense into him, but apparently not. He was a damned man.

Your hand moved around his lap languidly, expertly avoiding his not-so-soft-now dick, and focused on rubbing some blood off his lower abdomen. Then the damp rag moved further south, and his heart climbed up to this throat.

His eyes snapped back open, looking for yours, while his fingers gripped your wrist again.

“Is there no blood anywhere else?” his voice sounded strangled, begging almost, letting go of your hand.

“Nay, I’ve already cleaned the rest of your body. I was saving the best for last, Marcus,” you whispered at the same time the rag dragged along the length of his cock.

Then the palm of your hand flattened against his impending erection, the rag forsaken on his thigh now. The little blood he had left in his veins rushed south the moment your delicate fingers wrapped around the girth of his now-throbbing cock.

You just held him there with a tight grip, eyes never leaving his in defiance. Something sinister flicked in the green of your eyes — something mischievous, lustful even, but something really dark too. Your lips were slightly parted with an intransigent smile.

“How’re you feeling? Any pain?” You dared to ask, as if you weren’t the source of his pain.

Because the only real pain he felt was all gathered on his thudding dick. Feeling his agony, you stroked him once, twice… until you were pumping him decisively, shamelessly. Your thumb caressed his glans, buttering it with his own precum.

A moan tore through Marcus’ chest, rumbling — eyes closed, letting himself rejoice in the moment. Your fingers tight around his thick shaft, putting the right amount of pressure, sent him into oblivion. His erection just became harder and harder, steely as his gladius, under your diligent care.

Marcus felt the tension building up, his balls contracting with equal parts of pain and pleasure. His erection beat rhythmically with his heart — your strokes a blessing in disguise, sent to him to release the pressure building up at the bottom of his spine. You were working him so well, so dextrously, so deliciously, he didn’t know how much longer would he last.

“I wonder if it is as tasty as it looks…” you whispered in his ear as you crouched down a little, your lips grazing his skin.

The mere image of your mouth sealed around his manhood wrecked him. So fucking much, he was close to coming just with one single fucking handjob.

And then the door swung open, making both of you jump on the spot. You quickly removed your hand from his lap and Marcus almost died at the realisation that he would not find relief tonight.

As you turned around on your seat to face the door, you threw a blanket over his lap to disguise what had really been happening.

“Naimh is back,” you exclaimed giddily to him, standing up to greet her in your language.

Fuck Naimh. Kick her out, come back.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87 @mewantpeepaw

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel @pepperstories

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter eight || understanding

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 8.1k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

“I think if they keep ordering him to kill the people he cares about, he’s gonna snap.”

“Domain Expansion. Infinite Void.”

Gojo’s voice is eerily devoid of its usual nonchalance, even devoid of the warmth you’ve come to know from him. The words carry a weight familiar to any sorcerer. His grip on your shoulder tightens and although you know you’re safe from his sure-hit domain, the realization brings no comfort.

His chest is rising and falling as quickly as his heart is pounding in his chest as his warm breath fans the top of your head. His breathing grows quicker, deeper, and you feel his lips brush the top of your head, before he’s gone from your side entirely.

It all happens so fast, you don’t have time to register exactly what happens. You hear a gasp, a cry, a growl. Each one followed by the slumping sound of a body hitting the floor. With wide eyes, you turn to face the sorcerer when the sixth sound rings in the air of the still room.

Standing only a couple of feet away is Satoru, but there’s no warmth, no cunning smirk, not even a cold and calculated glare across his features. He’s panting heavily through his parted lips, blood spattered across his face. The crimson liquid drips from stained white locks, coming to land on his shoes beneath him.

Before you have a chance to take a look around at the damage, the lives fading from the room, Gojo lifts his head, an eerily unfamiliar look in those blue eyes of his. He doesn’t look like himself, wide eyes filled with a seething anger like fire raging through a forest. Like nothing can quell the flames that had ignited.

Still, he teleports to your side, wrapping an arm around you as he guides you out of the room. He makes a point of using his body to block you from the sight of the room, guiding you away from the carnage as he closes the door behind him.

Now out of the room, you turn to observe him. You aren’t sure if the move he made was the right or wrong one. You don’t have enough information to truly judge the higher-ups, although you disagreed with their methods. But still, they were people. People who sentenced you to death without ever considering giving you a chance. The moment the sentence was given, you knew your fate had been decided for you the moment you had entered the room. 

As you realize that, you know Gojo knew that too. That’s why he had insisted on remaining in the room, this was the plan he had always had in mind all along. Whether he knew he would snap or not, he always knew this would be the outcome.

Whether it was the right call or not, you weren’t sure.

You just knew that the lack of mercy he’d displayed towards them scared you.

But looking up at those crystalline blue eyes now, glinting with an anger you’d never before witnessed in him or anyone, you recognize something.

The way the pads of his fingers grip your shoulder like he was holding onto you for dear life, the way he positions his body to prevent you from seeing the carnage behind him, the way the anger behind his eyes glints with something else, something more. He’s scared, too.

“Gojo?”

Chest still heaving, his furious eyes flicker to you, but they seem to look through you, like he isn’t all there.

“Are you… okay?”

He doesn’t answer. It’s a foolish question, but it’s all you can think to say. You inhale sharply, turning to face him as you pull out of his grasp. Examining his expression, you tug your lip between your teeth.

Thoughts race through your mind as you try to think of something, anything, that might help, but you don’t know the man standing before you. Despite being at the school for several months now, he never let you get to know him. You never bothered. You were both always at odds with one another.

“Gojo, I-” you hesitate when he reaches out to grip your forearm. “They’re…” Dead. You don’t dare voice your concerns. “What if that was the wrong move, what if-”

“There was no other option,” he practically snarls, pulling you closer still to him as you flinch. His anger isn’t directed at you, rather he seems to be protecting you, even from himself.

Staring down at his hand on your arm, you realize he’s shaking. The vicious fury blazing within him is enough to strike fear into anyone who would witness him, but as he grips your arm for dear life, you know your fear pales in comparison to what he was going through.

Fiddling uncomfortably with the hem of your shirt with your spare hand, you recall the one thing Gojo had thought to do when you needed comfort and he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he’d done it because he needed it too.

Closing the small distance between you, you wrap your arms around his tall form, his pounding heart beating hard in your ear. His heart rate seems to increase for a moment as he stiffens, before slowly wrapping his arms around your core. Gradually, his breathing slows and returns to normal, his chin dropping to rest on your head.

Woodsy and sweet scents mingle with the stark smell of iron stained into his clothes as you inhale shakily. You don’t dare move, working through your own emotions as you let him do the same.

You couldn’t deny that you were scared, but as he finally pulls back and those familiar blue eyes are no longer looking through you but at you, you knew he needed someone in that moment as much as you had needed someone moments ago on death’s door.

In a strange twist of fate, it seemed you needed one another. Your fates entwined.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers breathlessly, terror ripping through the flames of anger. “It was the only option- I- I- I’ve thought of everything, I-” He heaves a breath in, running a hand through his hair and pulling at it as he leans his head back in thought. “I just-” his voice is low, a burly growl. “I can’t let them keep sentencing people to death every time they’re scared-”

Lips pressed into a thin line, you watch his frantic movements as he continues to ramble.

“-as soon as something inconveniences them-”

“Gojo.”

“-make it my problem to do their dirty work-”

“Gojo,” you try again to get his attention, uncertainly reaching up to set a hand on his arm as it falls back to his side after he flings it into the air while rambling. He doesn’t seem to notice your touch as he flails his arm in the air again.

“-I’m nothing more than a- a-”

“Satoru!” You call his name again, firmly placing your hand on his chest to get his attention. He seems shocked, blinking down at you. “It’s okay.”

He purses his lips at the sympathetic smile you offer as you realize what’s going through his head. Yuta had been right all along. He did care. He wasn’t afraid of the repercussions of his actions against the higher-ups, there was something else he was afraid of, and though you weren’t sure you believed it yourself, it was undeniable.

“We’ll figure things out, okay?” You wait for his nod before continuing. “Let’s get out of here,” you move your hand from his chest to tug on his sleeve and urge him to follow you. The walls of the narrow hallway feel as though they’re about to cave in on you and you can’t bear to stand so close to the room now barren of life.

He stays a short distance behind you, letting you lead the way down winding halls out to Ijichi, waiting outside the car. Ijichi turns to face the two of you, eyes wide as he sees the crimson stains in Gojo’s hair.

“Jujutsu Tech, please, Ijichi,” you tell him with a smile. He nods solemnly as he gets in the car.

The ride back is silent save for the sounds of the road and the consistent chirping of the summer cicadas. Your gaze remains out the window for the duration of the trip, thoughts racing through your mind.

Despite the silence, it’s strangely comfortable beside Satoru, and you realize for the first time since your first meeting, you know where you both stand with one another.

He seems to be on edge sitting beside you, leg bouncing while his hands fiddle with anything in reach in an attempt to ease his overactive thoughts.

As Ijichi pulls into the school, you slide out of the car and the silence follows you to the cabin, broken only by the excited barks of Taro at your return. He comes up to you both, body wagging from side to side with his tail at the sight of not just you, but also Gojo.

He cracks an uncertain smile at the pup before grumbling something about taking a shower and disappearing into the washroom before you have a chance to talk to him. You want to reach out and talk to him, but he’d practically bolted out of reach.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you bring your hands up to rub your face, the emotions you’d been holding back for the sake of staying strong pouring out. Making your way to the guest room, you shed yourself of the day’s clothes, throwing on an oversized T-shirt and shorts, throwing your hair up into a bun and collapsing on the bed.

You aren’t sure how long you stare at the ceiling when the washroom door across the hall clicks and Gojo exits, pulling a white T-shirt over his head. Gray sweats hang low on his lips, his toned abs visible for a brief moment as Gojo pulls the shirt on. He doesn’t seem to notice you as he rakes a hand through his snowy locks and throws on his sunglasses, looking out at the living room and kitchen.

Realizing you aren’t there, the dove-haired man swivels to face your room. Too tall to fit through the doorway, he ducks as he pokes his head into the room. His eyes bore into you from behind his glasses, a more put-together expression on his face than earlier.

“Hey, uh-”

“Thanks for not killing me,” you blurt out, accidentally interrupting him.

He chuckles dryly, shooting you a half-hearted smirk. “You didn’t think I would, did you?”

“Do you want the answer to that?”

His brow raises, though he catches the teasing lilt to your voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, slowly making his way to the edge of the bed to sit a small distance from you. The bed dips under his weight and he pushes his hand through his hair once more to keep it out of his face.

You let out a shaky laugh. “When?”

He catches your meaning and purses his lips. “When you thought I was gonna kill you,” he pauses, “and when I-” killed them. It doesn’t need to be said. He eyes your reaction, chewing on his lip. “I didn’t have a choice.”

You always have a choice, you want to insist, but you stay quiet. Of course it scares you that he was so willing to kill, but you also had him to thank for still being alive.

As if he can read your mind, he continues. “I know that’s a bullshit excuse, but someone wasn’t leaving that room and I-” he clears his throat to prevent himself from choking on his words. “I’ll be damned if it was you.”

You blink in surprise at the honest admission, whether fueled by genuine care or guilt.

“‘Sides, Miriko’d have my head if they got you.” He shoots you a lopsided smile.

“Your head would be the least of your concerns, Six Eyes,” Miriko chimes in from the back of your hand before disappearing.

Gojo huffs, entertained.

“It’s… okay.” You struggle to find words, still a bit scared at the other side of him you’d seen.

“There would never be an end,” he begins, “to the killing, if I didn’t end it myself.” You aren’t sure if he’s trying to convince him or you. “Yuta, Itadori, you…” he sighs.

“I understand,” you whisper, knowing the unsaid name of Geto hung on the tip of his tongue.

Gojo’s eyes close for a moment as he lets out a breath, relieved to find you hadn’t run off.

“What’s gonna happen now, with the higher-ups gone?” You ask quietly, looking up at his tired blue eyes.

“Dunno,” he admits. “The Shibuya incident left us pretty dry of sorcerers. The old asshole in charge of Kyoto will probably take over.”

“Is that… good?” You tilt your head.

“Not sure,” he sighs in exasperation. “Zen’in, Kamo, the old man,” he lists, “at the end of the day they’re the lesser evil, I guess.”

“Will you be in trouble?” You ask, gasping with realization. “Will they send someone after you?”

“They mighta been foolish enough to go after you, but they aren’t foolish enough to go after me.” There’s a small smirk on his lips.

“Awh, does that mean you think I’m strong?” You tease, kicking your feet playfully.

Something shines in Satoru’s eyes as he watches your movements, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at you. The moment lasts a second too long and you hum, wondering what’s going through his mind. He coughs, mumbling a ‘sorry’ before responding.

To your surprise, he responds in earnest with a chuckle. “You kidding? You’re terrifying when you wanna be.” He leans back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t see your wide-eyed shock from where he lays.

You let the moment hang, your brow knit together in thought.

“Why choose me?”

“Hm?” He props himself up on an elbow. “You or the old hags that told me to kill my students? We went over this.”

“No I know that, but-” you hesitate, the strange feeling of his lips brushing the top of your head replaying in your mind over and over. Maybe it was nothing, but the rational part of you can’t let it go. “You protected me.”

He blanches, eyes flickering to the side. “I was just doing what felt right.”

Your heart sits in the pit of your stomach, nerves chilling your spine. What felt right? That answers less questions than it poses. Your lips part, only to watch Satoru spring to his feet, practically dashing to the door.

“Lessons start back up tomorrow. We need a plan to defeat Sukuna,” he abruptly shuts the door, leaving you further confused than you were before as thoughts race through your mind.

Watching in silence as he closes your door behind him, you furrow your brow. Why did it seem as though he kept running from you?

You swallow hard, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The only question racing through your mind parts your lips as you whisper to yourself.

“What the hell?”

–

Another sleepless night, another early coffee.

Moonlight pours through the living room window, illuminating the tabletop where your phone sits. The exhaustion deep within your bones is undeniable, yet sleep doesn’t seem to come. Even sitting with legs pulled to your chest on the couch and your dog at your feet, the world feels so daunting.

The feeling of facing the world alone had returned when Nanami left, and slowly but surely you had felt as though you were getting somewhere with those emotions, but now you weren’t so sure. Gojo’s words from earlier hung in the air around you like a fly, unable to shake the feeling he meant something deeper. Not to mention the fact that Gojo, one of the most confident and cocky people you knew, had seemed to lose his edge twice now in one day, running from you.

Worse yet, was the undeniable realization that you felt no fear towards him. In spite of his actions earlier and the fact that death was something that seemed to plague and suffocate you, you felt oddly safe around him. Albeit a bit confused.

It was all too much. The questions, the uncertainty, the anxiety following the meeting with the higher-ups. It all loomed over you like a monster threatening your sanity.

Your head snaps to the stairs as Gojo makes his way down to the kitchen, his hair disheveled as though he’d spent the entire night raking his hand through it. His top half is barren, toned chest and abdomen on display and to your surprise, your eyes trail down his built figure. His usual blindfold covers his eyes and you wonder if he can see at all in the darkness, neither of you bothering to flick on a light.

Your question is answered quickly as he notices there’s coffee made and tilts his head, jumping when he notices you in the living room.

“Shit! I didn’t realize you were awake.” He holds a hand up to his chest in shock.

“Isn’t the whole deal with your Six Eyes thing that you can see everything?”

He chuckles, looping a finger under the material and pulling it down. “That’s the point of the blindfold. Can’t use all my cursed energy just lookin’ at you- around. Lookin’ around.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t hear you make coffee.”

“I didn’t,” you tell him, giggling as he wrinkles his nose at the bitter and very cold coffee he’s just sipped.

“The hell are you drinking this for?” He asks, dumping the mug and then the pot of coffee down the sink before beginning a new brew.

“Didn’t want to wake you up,” you shrug, fiddling with the mug of cold coffee in your hand.

Noticing your movements, Satoru strides over to you and pulls your mug from your hands. With a click of his tongue, he’s dumping that down the sink too.

“Hey! I was drinking that,” you complain, though he does have a point.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he scolds, smiling happily when Taro hops down from the couch with a wagging tail, demanding pets with small whines. Gojo kneels down, scratching behind his ears.

“That’s a sight I never thought I’d see,” you gape.

“What can I say? I’m charming,” the sorcerer grins, chuckling as he catches you rolling your eyes. He mumbles some happy words to Taro in a sweet voice, pleased when the pup plants himself down and waits with him as the coffee brews.

“Your charm won’t work on me,” you tease.

“No?” He smirks, and you suddenly feel fluttering in your chest. Swallowing, you watch the way his muscles clench as he pours you a mug of coffee, careful to step around Taro who follows closely behind him.

Setting his own mug on the coffee table, he leans forward to hand you another warm mug, his fingers lingering on yours and setting your skin ablaze as he pulls his hand back and plops himself down on the couch beside you with a sigh.

Composing yourself, you take a sip. “This is better,” you admit with a grateful smile.

Gojo hums, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “There’s so much going on, I-” you let out an unsteady breath at the gravity of your stress. “-I’m so tired, Satoru. When I close my eyes though, it’s just… a mess.”

He frowns, tilting his head as though he was eyeing you. “We could do something to get your mind off things,” he suggests, sipping his coffee. “We could watch a movie.”

You debate his suggestion before nodding slowly in agreement. “That sounds nice, honestly.”

“There’re a bunch under the TV if you wanna take a look.”

You hop off the couch with more pep in your step than before, hoping a movie will soothe the endless stream of thoughts. Opening the cabinet, you’re surprised to find Gojo seems to have a massive movie collection ranging in genre from Romantic Comedy to Horror.

“Are you a big movie guy?” You ponder, moving your finger over the spines of a group of horror films.

“They’re fun,” he grins. You shoot him a smile, giggling to yourself as your finger slides over the spine of Digimon: The Movie.

“I didn’t take you for a Digimon guy,” you comment, the familiar case a sudden blast from the past as you remember watching it with your dad when it first came out. Sliding your finger over the case as you reminisce silently, you don’t notice Gojo opening his wallet and flicking a card at you.

Squeaking in surprise as it makes contact with you, you look down at the card that sits on the floor. It’s an old digimon card, frayed corners laminated to keep it from getting any further damaged. Picking up the card, you flip it over, eyes lighting up at the sight. In the classic art style, Metal Greymon is hunched over, mouth parted with claws facing the player.

“This was in your wallet? You’re a nerd!” You tease with a grin, giggling as Satoru shrugs. “I’d be more impressed if it was Gabumon, though. He’s the best.”

“I’m more of a Guilmon guy myself,” he says, sitting up and leaning forward, “but Gabumon’s a good choice.” His blue eyes examine the movie in your hands from where he sits across the coffee table. “You’re into Digimon?” He doesn’t attempt to mask the child-like giddiness at talking about something so simple and mundane with you.

“My dad and I used to watch it all the time. I loved that old Gamecube fighting game.”

“That’s it,” he stands up, slipping the movie case from your hands and popping the disc into the DVD player sitting below the TV. “We’re watching this.”

You hand back his card with a giggle, the both of you sitting down side by side on the couch as Taro settles at the end of the couch beside you. As the opening ads play, Gojo tilts his head at you.

“Did you play a lot of games growing up?”

“Yeah I guess so,” you shrug, “honestly I still play a fair bit.”

“No kidding?”

You nod, thinking back at the consoles sitting at your old cottage. It must look abandoned at this point, coated in a layer of dust. “Yeah I mean… I was always alone, it was nice to unwind with a game.”

“You shoulda told me, I’ve got a Switch upstairs. I could kick your ass at Mario Kart,” he teases with a grin as he points at his chest. He sets his arm down across the back of the couch, his bicep brushing your shoulder in a manner that sends heat rippling across your skin.

“I’d like to see you try,” you rebuttal playfully.

“I’m the reigning champ, Shoko and Sug-” he blanches, quickly clearing his throat and correcting himself. “Shoko and I used to play all the time.”

There’s a sad edge to his voice, and finally the time feels right to ask the question that’s sat at the tip of your tongue since Yuta brought it up. “Suguru?” You ask softly.

He stiffens, forlorn gaze trailing away from you. “Yeah,” he admits, swallowing. You allow him a moment to steady himself, gather his thoughts.

“You two were close, weren’t you?”

“Something like that,” he sighs bittersweetly. He shuffles uncomfortably, the subject still clearly sore. It’s a feeling you know all too well, one you fear not even death will do you part.

You clear your throat, pleased to have made some sort of real connection with your white-haired counterpart, but not wanting to push him. “I’m sorry, when you showed up at my gate with him, I didn’t-”

“You don’t owe me anything, y/n.”

You hesitate at the firmness in his words, surprised to hear such a tone from him. “No, I know but I was-”

“y/n,” he interrupts again, “you don’t owe me anything. Definitely not an apology.” He rolls his shoulder, his forearm brushing your neck in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You did me a huge favor.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” It’s all you can think to say.

He chuckles again. “Stop apologizing,” he insists, attempting to mask the sadness in his eyes. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

“We don’t need to do this,” you insist, shaking your head. This little game of apologies wasn’t necessary in your eyes. Although there were still clearly things left unspoken between you both, you had no doubt in your mind anymore that Satoru was on your side and you were well aware of his regrets.

“No, we do.” His sharp eyes are boring into you now and he takes a deep breath. “I was a fucking grade A asshole. I was so sure Miriko would be like Sukuna that I never gave you a chance,” he pauses, “sorry Miriko.” He bites his lip briefly before continuing. “Then these past few weeks I got to know you and I-”

You lean closer to him, listening intently.

“-I was scared of you,” he chuckles, cheeks visibly reddening. “You reminded me of Suguru. Your wit,” he glances at the Digimon movie title screen that’s been looping for a couple of minutes now, “your interests, your abilities.”

You can feel his warm breath on your cheeks as he finally faces you fully. You hadn’t realized he was so close to you until now, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end at the close proximity.

Running a hand through his long white hair, he moves strands from his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your lips part in disbelief, not only at receiving such a genuine apology, but more importantly because of the weight of the statement. The weight of the comparison to someone who meant the world to him.

“I-” you stammer, trying to make sense of his admission. “I forgive you,” you tell him, your voice small. You bite your lip, your body set alight once more as you see the way his eyes flicker to follow the movement. Did you imagine that…?

The silence following feels like a moment and an eternity all at once. Your skin blazes, while your muscles are frozen in place, unable to think as you feel the warmth of his breath repeatedly fanning your face. You part your lips, your heart pounding in your chest as your crimson irises take in the way his lidded eyes look at you, pupils blown.

“S-Satoru?” Your voice is barely a whisper.

He clears his throat, leaning back against the couch.

“Sorry,” his cheeks redden as he fumbles for the remote. “Gabumon is waiting for you,” he recovers quickly, his sly smirk returning as if your entire body wasn’t on fire from the interaction just seconds ago.

Blinking a few times, you sit back and try to focus on the movie, your thoughts racing. Taro’s head plops down on your lap and you busy yourself with petting his head, your mind eventually focusing when Gojo playfully nudges you at the sight of Gabumon.

No longer drowning in thoughts, your eyes begin to grow heavy and at some point, your consciousness fades.

–

The unpleasant feeling of a kink in your neck wakes you the following morning. You groan at the feeling, groggily blinking your eyes open. With your vision still blurred, a woodsy scent hits you and you wonder if you left the window open. No, even then it’s not so much a natural scent.

You attempt to roll onto your back, surprised when something pushes back against you.

“Careful, you’ll fall off.”

You freeze, bringing a hand up to wipe the remnants of sleep from your face. As your vision clears, you become very suddenly aware of how you’re sprawled over your roommate’s bare chest, your face barely an inch from his chin.

Jumping immediately to your feet and out of his grasp, you stare at him in bewilderment. His sunglasses sit atop the bridge of his nose, a calm expression staring back at you from where he lays on the couch. For a moment you think you see hurt flash in his eyes, but you’re positive you’re mistaking something else for that.

“Sorry!” You hurriedly apologize, face flushed at the idea of falling asleep on top of Satoru. You glance back at the screen quietly playing the looping menu screen of the Digimon movie, still.

“I wasn’t complaining, Pretty,” he smirks slyly. “You seemed tired.”

Your muscles seize at the sound of the pet name, your heart palpitating in your chest hard enough to make you think you were having a heart attack. A pet name from Satoru of all people. Worse yet, your stomach bubbles and flutters in ways you can’t begin to describe, because surely he wasn’t causing that feeling. Right?

You swallow hard, your nerves getting the better of you as you take a step back, nearly tripping over the coffee table.

Gojo watches with an amused smile as you stumble around, muttering the occasional ‘um’ or ‘uh’, before your words finally find you.

“I should- um- get ready for the lesson,” you blurt out, turning on your heel and bolting to the washroom, ignoring Gojo’s snickering behind you. Shutting the door as you bolt to the washroom, you heave out a quiet groan, rubbing your face in humiliation.

That was embarrassing to watch, even for me.

Don’t say another word, Miriko.

Of course your audience would decide to chime in right now. Throwing your head back against the door, you let out a prolonged sigh and race to get into the shower, praying the warm water would quell the embarrassment seeping through every crack in your composure.

As the hot water wets your skin, you let out a breath of relief as the steady stream drowns your thoughts. Thank god for that, too, because any longer with thoughts of Gojo shirtless and you might start to lose it. 

As the steam fills the air, you close your eyes, allowing the hot water to cascade over your body and ease your tensions. Your eyes flutter open, droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you let your shoulders relax and take a much-needed long shower.

Throwing the tap off after allowing yourself longer in the shower than usual to cleanse yourself of your confused and uncertain thoughts, you reach out for the towel and-

It’s not there.

You reach a bit further down the rack where your towel should be. It has to be.

It’s not there.

You panic, realizing suddenly that you had done laundry and hadn’t replaced the towel.

“Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, weighing your options. You either had to call for Gojo, or wait until you air dried, which isn’t really an option because the air on your warmed skin is cold.

You groan loudly, raking a hand through your dripping hair.

“Satoru?” You call his name loudly, unsure if he hears you and you call out his name again.

“Need some help in there?” He asks with a suggestive tone that only furthers the blush creeping up your neck.

“Gojo, please,” you beg quietly. “Just put a towel outside the door.”

You hear an amused hum before his footsteps begin to move away from the door, returning a moment later. “Towel’s outside!” He calls before you hear his footsteps walking away.

You let out a breath of relief, poking your arm out the door to grab the towel and dry yourself off. Putting on your clothes from last night again, you hurriedly make your way back into your room, take the time to groan into a pillow, and change into a clean dress. It’s the first time you’ve worn one in a while, given that you’d struggled with your motivation for the past month. For once, you find yourself smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

Once you’ve put your hair up and done your makeup, you make your way back out to the kitchen with just enough time to make a coffee before your lesson.

“What, no cold coffee this morning?”

The abrupt intrusion of Satoru’s voice in the quiet air of the cabin causes you to jump and you send him an irritated glance as you nearly drop your mug. He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he hops down the stairs and slings an arm casually over your shoulder. The material of his blindfold blocks you from seeing the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Flustered this morning, are we?”

Though you’d always known Gojo to have no concept of personal space, this was something new entirely, even for him. You swallow hard, refusing to look at him as your steady gaze remains on the slow drip of the coffee pot in front of you.

“I’m just tired,” you insist stubbornly, stepping out of his grip.

“Mhmm,” he hums in agreement, his tone betraying the fact that he doesn’t believe you. “You seemed pretty well-rested this morning.”

With his endless prodding now beginning to give you a headache, you rub your temples. “Satoru, we should focus on work,” you insist in an attempt to get him to ease off.

He chuckles, taking the hint to give you a break as he busies himself with other tasks.

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you prepare one for yourself before absent-mindedly preparing one for him as well, just the way he likes it with a bit of creamer and an absurd amount of sugar. You’re not sure when you learned his coffee order, but it feels like second nature as you pass him the mug.

He smiles gratefully, accepting the mug from your hands and taking a sip. His brow raises, eyeing you with surprise from behind black fabric at the way his coffee is made to perfection. Almost like the action of making his coffee was deeply ingrained into you, you hadn’t thought twice about the amount of sugar needed to make his coffee just to his taste. “Thanks,” he hums, leaning on the counter.

You smile up at him, taking a sip of your much more bitter coffee and letting your thoughts wander to the lesson today. The first one in a month. The thought is an uneasy one, life is considerably different since then and in many ways it feels more urgent than ever to train Yuji as quickly as possible if you were at such a great risk of being attacked again.

“Do you know who it was that attacked us?” You ask Gojo, swallowing at the horribly vivid memories resurfacing.

“Yeah,” he sighs, his shoulders hunching forward as he adjusts his grip on his mug. The pale blue button-up he wears wrinkles at his shoulders, pulling taut on his back. Your eyes trail over the muscles briefly, returning your attention to him as he continues. “I’ll worry about that, though.”

“Don’t you think it would be good for me to know?”

“Focus on Yuji’s training. I’ll handle him.” His nose scrunches as he sees the way you narrow your eyes, obviously growing frustrated with him, but still he doesn’t let up.

“You don’t have to do everything alone.” There’s a hint of irritation in your voice, mingling with hurt.

His face is fixed straight ahead, avoiding your gaze, avoiding the obvious hurt on your features. “Just let me handle this, Pretty.”

Your heart jumps into your throat at the pet name, only given away by your fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress. “We talked about this Satoru, please don’t be stubborn.” You manage to keep your frustration and nerves in check as your tone comes out even.

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, feigning indifference to your words but you know him now. You can read him. You know he’s growing upset.

“With all due respect Gojo, you’re in no position to be keeping this information from us,” Miriko chimes in, red shining eyes apparent on the back of your hand, a forked tongue slithering out from between her pointed teeth.

“Have I been upgraded from Six Eyes?” He teases, blatantly ignoring the way irritation flashes across your face.

Miriko’s eye narrows. “Don’t test me,” she warns in a hiss.

He hums slyly in acknowledgement, not pushing his limits but visibly pleased.

“Why are you so determined to keep this from me?” You ask as he takes another sip of his coffee.

His jaw clenches and you know you’re both one step away from being at one another’s throats. As usual. “It’s not your-”

“For fuck’s sake Gojo, can you cut that out?” Your exasperation finally grows to a breaking point as you motion in the air in disbelief that yet again he was being uncooperative. As if every moment of progress you thought you were making was for naught. “You don’t get to decide what I do or don’t get to know!

His head snaps towards you, mug set down with a heavy snap on the marble counter. “I’m not-” He takes a step towards you, pausing as he watches your frustration further bloom as he growls back. “It’s not like that.” He strains to keep his voice down, running a hand through his hair before pulling his blindfold down. His blue eyes are troubled when they finally land on you.

Your lips part. “Then what is it?”

“I’m trying not to be the asshole you think I am,” he sighs, taking another step towards you. His voice loses its edge as he gives in.

Setting your coffee down, you press yourself to the counter. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. “I don’t think… you’re an asshole.” You admit, shoulders dropping as the tension begins to ease now that he’s being honest with you. Red eyes meet his blue ones, his internal debate clear as day in the troubled glimmer in his eyes.

“I’m trying not to… extort you anymore. I’m trying-” he hesitates. “-I’m trying not to involve you in this world that I know you don’t want to be a part of.”

You blink once, twice, three times. It’s strange to hear such consideration from the cocky and overconfident sorcerer you’d come to know. Your lips form a circle, a silent ‘oh’.

“I don’t want-” he hesitates again, stepping forward. He’s painfully close, a realization that sends a jolt of electricity racing up your spine. “I don’t want to involve you anymore if I don’t have to, not when I…”

You tilt your head as he trails off, wondering what’s going through his mind. For someone who had been so one note when you met him, he’s one of the most complex people you’ve ever met and the one person you struggle to understand the most. You find yourself leaning forward slightly, his breath fanning your face faster as his breathing rate increases.

“Not when… I…” He trails off again, toned arms resting against the counter on either side of you as he cages you in. His eyes flicker to your lips, pupils dilating. His voice lowers, husky. “When I could treat you like this.”

Whatever internal battle was being fought in his head finds its victor as he leans in and presses his lips to yours, chaste and gentle. Your heart pounds in your chest as you freeze, tense in his arms encircling you.

When he pulls back, there’s desperation painting his features as he examines you. Shocked, you meet his wide-eyed stare pensively. Your thoughts are racing, searching for answers. He doesn’t dare move until you do.

You don’t know how to make sense of the confusion, but the butterflies in your stomach threatening to burst make more sense to you than any rational thought.

Your hands find purchase on his chest, sliding up his pecs as you lean back in. His pulse sprints in tandem with yours beneath your arm, eyes fluttering shut as your lips meet again. He moves his lips against yours fiercely, no longer gentle. He’s desperate, sliding his left hand up from the counter to your waist, his fingers clutching at your skin in a manner that you know will bruise.

His right hand encircles you, pulling you flush against his toned body as he parts by barely an inch from you, just far enough to see your flushed features, the way your chest rises and falls.

He smirks against your lips, his voice a whisper meant for your ears only like a sacred lament. “You’re killing me, Sweetheart.”

Your ears burn as you stare up at him through your lashes. Your body is alight with the flames of attraction, your confusion a distant thought as the haze in your mind sings only of your want. How could something like this with someone like Gojo feel so right?

“I don’t want you involved in any of this anymore. Not because I don’t trust you-” he pauses, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. He hums in satisfaction as your eyes trail the action. “-but because I want to do better by you.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Satoru.” Your voice is small, but steady as you admonish him. A newfound confidence courses through your veins as you fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“I know,” he says, soft lips pressing against yours with urgency, as though he couldn’t possibly bear to be apart from you even for the length of your conversation. His muscular arms tense against your back as his grip on you tightens.

You barely pull back from him, bunching his shirt beneath your fingers. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m a part of this now.”

“I know,” he sighs again, defeat dripping from his tone. He’s not happy, but he’s willing to respect your decision, and that’s all you can ask for. For once, he’s compromising.

Running his thumb absentmindedly over your abdomen from its place on your waist, he watches the way you chew on your bottom lip, as though either of you is waiting for the other one to make a move.

“Should we…?” You make a movement to take a step back in an attempt to head to your lesson but he shakes his head.

“Just give me one more minute of this,” he whispers, sliding his hand up your body to cup your face. He’s gentle now, as though handling porcelain, as he leans in again. His long white hair tickles your forehead and you smile into the kiss, a reaction matched eagerly by Satoru. His lips are addictive and you find yourself melting into him.

Whether it’s something you’ll learn to regret, you don’t know. This new side of Satoru is fascinating, and as your arms slide over his shoulders and your fingers slide through his undercut, soft strands of white hair tangling in your grip, you want to keep exploring it. You want to keep exploring him. Tugging on the snowy locks, a low wanton groan escapes him, igniting a fire in your lower abdomen.

It scares you. It excites you. 

He pulls back, pupils blown as he chuckles. His voice is an octave deeper than you’re used to. “If we don’t leave now, you’re not getting me out of this cabin,” he warns with a coy smirk.

With flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you nod slowly, untangling your fingers from his hair and falling back onto the ball of your foot. His arm doesn’t leave your waist as though he can’t bear to not feel your touch as he leads the way out the door and towards the meadow tucked within the trees.

He moves his blindfold back over his eyes and slides his hand up your body as the treeline comes into view, resting it on your shoulder in a more characteristic manner.

“y/n!” Yuji calls your name excitedly at the sight of you on your own two feet with no support. You hadn’t seen him since you’d fully recovered so as he bounds over to give you a hug, you smile. 

Gojo’s hand parts from your shoulder, watching from beside you with a warm smile. Yuji bounds back over to the table, excitedly telling you about movies he’d watched with his brother, and things he’d gotten up to with the second-years in the way you would tell a parent. It’s endearing and you wear that fact like a badge of honor.

It’s apparent he misses Fushiguro, but you know if you have any chance at defeating Sukuna and saving Yuji, it’s best that they stay apart.

As you settle down at the table to begin your lesson, Gojo finds his place at your side, his knee brushing yours lightly.

Your plan for the lesson had originally been to work with Yuji to draw out Sukuna’s technique as you’d barely scratched the surface of that lesson when you’d been hospitalized, but Miriko is quick to speak up before you have the chance to begin.

“I have a proposal.” Her toothy frown sits on the back of your hand as usual, eye flickering between the three of you.

“You wanna marry me, Miriko? How cute,” Gojo teases with a grin.

“You test my patience, Six Eyes.”

“Downgraded already…” he mutters, pouting as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

You giggle, letting Miriko continue.

“Yuji, please block Sukuna out to the best of your ability,” she pauses as he nods, “I believe I may have a way to kill the King of Curses.”

All of you sit starkly straight, every ounce of attention trained on Miriko now.

“Gojo, when you used your domain with y/n and I, I was unable to move.”

“You used your domain on them?” Yuji inquires, but Miriko moves on, not willing to touch on that subject. It’s an issue for another time, and an issue she wants no part in explaining.

“I am considerably weaker now than I was when we first met. y/n transforming did a number on my technique. I believe if we are able to weaken Sukuna to the point I am at, I would be able to kill him.”

The words hang in the air like static as each of you processes what’s been said. Along with it, a new hope. A solution, maybe.

“How weak are we talkin’?” Gojo tilts his head, leaning closer to you in the process.

Miriko ponders the question for a moment. “My technique relies on souls in my domain and my river is at approximately half of its original capacity.”

“So chip him down to half? That’s do-able,” Yuji looks to Gojo for reassurance, the two nodding at one another.

“As much as I would like to agree with you both, Sukuna outclasses me. I do not believe it will be so easy.”

“I can do it,” Gojo says confidently, setting his large palm over your thigh reassuringly as you cast him a worried glance. His touch still sends electricity through you, a feeling so unfamiliar and yet comforting.

The idea of taking on Sukuna is an uptaking, and it certainly won’t be easy. You know it, Yuji knows it, and Gojo knows it, even in spite of his confidence. But it’s a sliver of hope, and you have time to prepare, to train. To flesh out a plan.

Better yet, you have someone alongside you who's not only on your side, but rooting for you. Someone who cares for you. In fact, as you glance between Miriko’s appearance on your palm, Satoru at your side and Yuji across from you, you realize you have some sort of semblance of a family.

A family you’d give your life to protect, and it warms your heart in ways you hadn’t thought possible anymore. Finally, your life feels fulfilling again and-

Gojo stands suddenly, whipping around to face the treeline on the far side of the meadow behind you.

“Satoru?” You ask quietly, unable to see what had caught his attention as you follow his gaze. You turn your attention back to the sorcerer, confusion turning to concern as his hand reaches out to grip your shoulder steadily. What really strikes fear into you is the way it feels like he’s doing so to hold you back.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You freeze, every blood cell in your body running cold as dread twists in your stomach. Satoru’s grip on your shoulder tightens further as you twist your head to get a view of the newcomer.

Your whimper could stop a force of nature with the gravity of your pain as your lips part to speak.

“Kento?”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || thank you for staying with me through all these chapters! this was such a fun chapter to write and went through many iterations but i'm pretty happy with the outcome ♡ god i love gojo

[germesthegenie]

Can a “😍😙😁” gal and a “💀👿🩸” gal really be besties? Sure seems like it so far.

Based on a scene from Ward 3.3

Recently finished Ward Arc 3! Thoughts below:

Been a while since my first post on Ward, a couple of thoughts:

Arc 2

I like the slower pace so far (we’ll see how long that lasts i suppose). Nice to get little moments like Victoria going to interviews and visiting the kids at the hospital.

Zion really gave one last middle finger to humanity and said “You know what? Automated random horrific death triggers.” Jokes aside, the broken trigger scene was haunting, might draw something based on it in the future.

The therapy group superhero team premise is interesting. Nice to have a band of characters who have mental or emotional weaknesses but have each other’s backs! Now let’s see who they’re up agaisnt- oh, Tattletale? Oh no.

Not too many thoughts on the arc’s interlude, a lot of nice worldbuilding which is always welcome.

Arc 3

Capture the Flag was a fun premise for a friendly fight, and it delivered pretty well in showing off everyone’s powers, strengths and weaknesses. Also nice to see Victoria filling a more mentor/coach role and getting to flex the experience she’s gained with her power in a more positive light. Have some drawing ideas once I figure out how exactly I want to depict stuff like her aura.

Liking the new team so far, though still need to wrap my head around some of the finer details of the powers. Definitely gives me Jojo vibes in how the powers are more complex in the sequel/s.

I realized quickly that Kenzie’s powerset is a lot like my character from my friend’s Worm campaign (which I might write more about later on). Also a surveillance/drone Tinker, though with more focus on multiple drones and material efficiency than Kenzie’s big boxes of large scale holograms and photo-distortion.

Seems the group all have their own little secrets and/or problems they need to work through. Please Vic don’t let any of them near Tattletale they would practically be a freebie for her to take down.

Ok, no Birdcage as I learned from last post. But is there, like, a dead Earth with a one way portal to toss Carol into? Is Sleeper still occupying Earth Zayin? Maybe we should send Carol there on a free vacation I hear it’s a lovely time in… whatever the effect of his power is.

Evil Robot Grocery… ok how do you even fight that. I guess it’s an S-class Threat for a reason but like what option is there other than quarantining and bombarding the entire area they’ve spread to? Do EMPs work? Put Ghost Bakuda to good use and make that Arc 6 Bomb to knock them all out?

Silly rodent themed hero. Close enough, welcome back Mouse Protector Ratcatcher. Also gonna toss her on the list of “characters I should draw some time.”

Amy Dallon finally speaks, and looks like she’s making friends! Friends that are all (at least former) supervillains! That are encouraging her down a darker path! I can only see good things happening here. A little surprised we get her this early from an Interlude rather than from a main chapter, though I suppose it does make sense to flesh her out more now rather than waiting until Victoria directly sees her again in whatever state she’s in by that point (probably a bad one).

That’s all the Ward thoughts I could think of at the moment. Will be reading more, next update hopefully won’t take 2 months again (but probably will)

[byoldervine]

How To Start Writing A Book (So Says This Idiot)

I’ve been working on my queer superhero fantasy novel Byoldervine for a few years now, but it’s only been in the last year or so that I’ve really dedicated myself to my writing. Now I’ve gone from a fun few concepts to nearly 50K words and counting. So I figured I’d share my process to get here

1. Figure out your barebones concept

Before you can begin writing, you obviously need to know what you’re writing. At this point in time it can literally just be something like “A group of friends go on a quest through a magical fantasy world and meet loads of mythical creatures along the way”, it doesn’t even necessarily need a plot intact. You can be as vague or as specific as you like here, you just need that general idea

2. Figure out your characters

Your characters are the driving forces behind all internal conflict in your story and give your story heart; if you can pick between expanding your plot and expanding your characters, pick the characters. Start figuring out at very least the need-to-know aspects about your characters, such as their motivations and what’s holding them back from achieving them. We can flesh them out more and more as we go

3. Create the main external conflict

Often this takes the form of the main antagonist, but it can be literally anything from a curse the main character is trying to overcome, a series of misunderstandings, a goal they just don’t have the skills to achieve on their own, etc. What’s the thing that’s causing our main character problems they need to overcome?

4. Work out the beginning and end of your story

Where do you want your story to end? Do you want your characters to be living a life of peace and glory as revered heroes after they defeat the villain? Do you want them to be able to return to the life they once had with new friends and stronger powers than ever before? Do you want them to fail and experience the tragedy of their loss? Well if that’s where you want to end, they can’t have all that at the very start of the story, so that’s something that needs to change during the story. Congratulations, you just created a plot point!

5. Use your plot points to create a general plan

Now that you’ve got some ideas of what you want/need to happen during the story, you can make a timeline of these plot points. Say something like “Inciting incident, MC leaves village” or “MC trapped by BBEG” or “MC gains new weapon” or something like that. At this point things are a bit less vague because now you’re starting to see how the plot can go. Don’t forget to add things that the characters would go for, too, even if it’s not plot-relevant

6. Plotting

You’re ready to start plotting by now. For every chapter, write down a general objective of what needs to be achieved within this chapter. Each of these needs to be followed with bullet points of different, smaller plot points within the chapter to achieve this objective. This part I enjoy doing alongside actually writing so I can update it as I go, I’ll usually plot about five chapters ahead and then get to writing until I’ve used them all up

By this point, you’re ready to write! Best of luck and remember that it’s only a first chapter, all it needs to do is exist!

[accirax]

Danganronpa: Despair Time Mastermind Ranking (Least to Most)

Yeah, I should’ve known that I needed to get around to this someday.

You see, the reason why I hadn’t made a theory about the identity of the Despair Time mastermind is that… I'm not totally convinced on any one person being the mastermind. Like, look at these clowns! They’re all so weird! I love them all for it, obviously, but none of their personality quirks or roles in the story stand out to me as particularly mastermind-y. There are a lot of characters that I believe could be the mastermind, but it’s also pretty easy to convince me out of it for one reason or another.

However, it’s not like I had any idea about who the P:EG mastermind would be, either! At least with two chapters under its belt, I can feel more comfortable that I’m not just fully mischaracterizing the Despair Time cast. And I definitely have things to say about various DRDT masterminds, just… in a way that’s kinda hard to rank.

But, that’s no reason for me to be cowardly! I’m sure that seriously scrutinizing all of the characters’ mastermind potentials and ultimately coming up with who I think the most likely candidate is will be super fun. It’s just… going to be really long, so, buckle in. And maybe prepare to take breaks in the middle.

(Spoilers for all three main canon games and DRDT.)

Why is it going to be so long? Well, it’s because, when it comes to DRDT, I think that my predictions will be at least partially based on how long I think each character will make it into the story. If I have a particularly strong inclination that a character is going to die in Chapter 3.456, no matter how unfounded, it might make me feel worse about their prospects of being the mastermind. That’s not to say that a mastermind can’t appear to die (or actually die) before Chapter 6 rolls around, of course. However, it is an uncommon additional hurdle to the story that would require some justification and a little suspension of disbelief if I’m trying to call it years before it transpires.

So, if we’re going to talk about the mastermind, I need to share my current feelings about where each character might place in the death order. Should I update the title…?

Danganronpa: Despair Time Mastermind Ranking (Least to Most) AND ALSO Death Order Predictions

These are my mastermind rankings, so my opinions on where the characters might be headed will obviously be used as the baseline. Naturally, you don’t need to believe in anything I'm about to throw out here. I’m just trying to explain my thought process so that nothing I say later on will come as a total surprise.

Also, since it’s kind of long, here’s the top of the death order section. I think it’ll provide some important context, but if you want to skip it, look for the other green, bold text.

Some of my thoughts were inspired by anderscim’s death predictions theory, as I read that pretty soon after I joined the fandom. I encourage you to go read their work as well!

The tiers are mostly pretty self explanatory– 3-4 means I think they’re at risk of dying sooner and 4-5 means I think they’re at risk of dying later. But, I’ll give everyone what I hope to be a quick rundown on each character just to explain my thinking. 

Xander: Xander canonically died as the Chapter 1 victim.

Min: Min canonically died as the Chapter 1 blackened.

Arei: While I respect the concept, I personally don’t believe in the “J and Arei swapped places and Arei is actually still alive” theory, and I will be writing the rest of this post accordingly. So, to me, Arei canonically died as the Chapter 2 victim.

Eden: Pretty much anyone who’s seen my DRDT theories at this point shouldn't be surprised that I’m listing Eden as the Chapter 2 killer. The logic behind this belief has been explained by my lovely mutuals here and here.

Levi: Alright, on to the ones I don’t have any concrete evidence to support! (There is concrete evidence behind the ch2 murder, even if you believe it points elsewhere.) Levi has had a decent amount of focus already in his trainwreck of a relationship with Ace and discussions of morality with Eden and Teruko. If he does serve as an accomplice to the Chapter 2 killer (see the first link in Eden’s section), then I feel like his clock will really be ticking. He’d be trapped with the branding of a bad person, his greatest fear, and left without any relationships to lean on. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone targeted him as a victim they “believed deserved to die after what happened,” or even if Levi decided that he was doomed to be a villain from the start and decided to kill. Alternatively, he could try to redeem himself as a classic Chapter 4 buff curse sacrifice in some way. In either case (or even in the case of him just being the Chapter 2 killer), I have my doubts that he’ll be making it too much later into the game.

Arturo: To me, Arturo doesn’t feel like a character set up for incredible longevity. That doesn’t mean I’m pigeonholing him as a one-dimensional villain or pure comedic relief, just that Arturo seems like a character who might be set up to have his ideology lead to his downfall. I don’t think he’s dying in Chapter 2, as I believe the narrative would want to see how he reacts to J burning the bridges between them, but I could definitely see the story only needing one more round of daily life (or possibly a trial as well) to resolve wherever his character is going.

Charles: Look, it’s not only because he’s already been pronounced dead at 3. As I elaborated upon in Charles’ section of this post (The Jerk), Charles feels like he’s speeding towards the end of his character arc far ahead of schedule. It could just be that he needed to learn to make friends quickly before Whit makes an early exit, sending him on a secondary arc where he learns to process his current grief and fears as a parallel to regaining memories about Elliot. However, I find it much more likely that the Inevitable CharWhit Doom Scenario plays out in the opposite direction. He makes a lot of sense as a Chapter 3 victim to me.

Nico: Similar to Arei and J, I am writing all of my theories with the assumption that it really was Nico who attempted to murder Ace in Chapter 2, because I think it makes the most narrative sense. (I could keep typing out a “well, unless” every time, but I don’t really want to eat up my time writing or your time reading all of that.) Through that lens, the fact that Nico has already murdered someone and “gotten away with it,” more or less, puts them in a really weird situation. I don’t really see them killing again, as it feels like we’ve already explored the emotional and narrative implications of that happening through Chapter 2. Although, I can’t deny that it would be interesting to see the fallout of Ace being proven totally right and Hu 100% wrong. Still, if they were to be a survivor after doing something so severe so early into the game, it seems like they would have to undergo some sort of redemption for the audience to accept them as a face of hope in the end. I don’t currently see any great paths to that happening, although there’s obviously still plenty of story time for something to open up. For now, though, I feel more confident in placing them as a early/mid-game victim, likely as a consequence of choosing to harm someone else.

Hu: Given her overall lack of focus in the story thus far, I find it likely that Hu will be one of the focal characters of the Chapter 3 daily life. That could be bad news, considering how Xander and Arei fared after being focused upon in their respective daily lives, but… I dunno, I just feel like Hu would survive it, somehow? Wouldn’t be too surprised if she didn’t, but my gut instinct is that she would. I kind of see her character exiting the story in Chapter 4, no preference on killer vs victim.

Veronika: Veronika is a very weird character (an “oddball,” I’ll call it), and thus, my predictions for her are strongly based on the patterns that oddball characters normally follow. I’ll be using canon characters only, because I believe that those are the only killing games that I have the right to assume every DRDT fan has seen. But, you can apply these same kinds of patterns to many fangan characters. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for fangans breaking from typical Danganronpa norms and following their own paths. But, in the case of how oddballs are treated, I think these characters generally tend to follow these patterns because they’re sensible writing practices. I’ll try to explain why each of these conventions makes sense in the following bullet points.

Oddballs tend not to die in Chapters 1 or 2. This is because oddball characters are generally created to supply a very niche kind of comedic relief– examples from DRDT could include Arturo’s commentary on ugly people or Ace’s bizarre remarks of cowardice. Any character deemed worthy of being included in a fangan occupies one of 16 highly contested slots. So, if you include a character for the purpose of making jokes with them, you'll want to get your bang for your buck! It’s hard to fit every joke you have in mind into only a chapter or two. The best example I could come up with for a (canon) oddball who dies early is Teruteru. In his case, the writers likely anticipated that his hyper-flirtatious nature would get tiring if it continued on for too long, and thus, exhausted all of the jokes they wanted to make in Chapter 1 before his exit. An oddball who dies this early has a limited shelf life, and is likely accompanied by other oddballs who can pick up the comedic slack.

Many have pointed out that silly oddballs often die in Chapter 3 (Hifumi, Ibuki, Tenko) as a way to signify the death of fun and innocence. You also have a chance to get rid of some of the more sinister oddballs (Celeste, Kiyo) at a point where it seems unfeasible for them to have stuck around this long without… well, killing someone. In either case, it’s because Chapter 3 is a great balance of letting a character stay in a story for long enough that they achieve whatever strange effects you wanted from them, while also clearing them off the stage before you get into the really serious business. Silly oddballs especially may not be equipped to handle the often turbulent natures of Chapter 4 without breaking the serious tone too much, so it’s best to axe them at the midpoint.

Endearing oddballs (Gundham, Gonta) have a hard time making it past Chapter 4. If Chapter 4 is serious, Chapters 5 and 6 are even more so, and the Chapter 4 killer slot in particular is a viable dumping ground for characters who don’t really have a place in the finale. Their deaths are meant to pull at your heartstrings and prove how a killing game can make literally anyone– yes, even that guy– a killer. (Miu is an outlier; more like an extended Chapter 3. Unlike THH, which has its tonal shift at the end-of-Ch3-Sakura Traitor Reveal, and SDR2, which has its tonal shift at Mikan’s insanity and death, v3’s tonal shift comes at Kokichi's accusation and Kaito and Shuichi's argument, or possibly even Miu's death itself. The Chapter 4 Daily Life isn’t all that serious in and of itself. Thus, Miu dying as a Ch4 victim functions more like killing off a silly oddball before she has to deal with all the betrayal and scheming that occurs later on.)

Oddballs really only die in Chapter 5 to the extent that you can count major antagonists like Nagito and Kokichi as Weird Dudes. As the precursor to the big, showstopping, mind-bending Chapter 5 Trial, the mood is typically pretty… straightforward. Depending on the overall plot’s arc, Chapter 5 is either the point where most of the surviving students are concluding their character arcs and learning how potent a weapon teamwork is (THH, SDR2), or a “dark night of the soul” type moment where all of the slowly growing inter-character conflicts are finally coming to a head (v3). It can also be Version A for some characters and Version B for others, but, either way, hijinks are not ensuing, basically. Plot relevant things happen here, and as such, plot relevant characters are the ones who are dying. It can be hard for an oddball to find a place in the narrative relevant enough to serve as one of its final, poignant deaths without also being a major antagonist.

Despite everything I’ve said about oddballs dying, it is definitely possible for oddballs to survive. Danganronpa is, at its core, a dark comedy, and as such killing off all of your funny joke characters before the ending is probably a bad move. Hiro, Toko, Kazuichi, and Himiko are all characters I’d call oddballs that survive until the very end. The difference in their case is that part of their oddball nature is being… kind of pathetic? I think it helps them fade into the background more. It's also probably easier to give them a character arc than some others... like Veronika.

I’m sure that you can find exceptions to these “rules” I’ve laid out, especially amongst casts that have a high percentage of oddballs (which you could certainly argue fits DRDT). However, pattern recognition brain go brrrr. I don’t think that Veronika fits the description of a Chapter 1-2, Chapter 4, or survivor oddball particularly well. That leaves Chapter 3 (sinister) and Chapter 5 (bewildering antagonist). I don’t know if it’s that Veronika doesn't seem to have much of a reason to kill at this point in time or all of Veronika’s weird mastermind coding that makes me think DRDTdev might have greater plans for her. Either way, I’m leaning Chapter 5, probably victim. Jeez, that was a long section for one character. Favoritism, I guess?

J: J gets her own category because, honestly, I have no idea what to do with her. Could J make it to the end? Sure! Could J die in a Chapter 3 scheme? Sure! Could J be the Chapter 2 killer? Well, I personally believe the evidence points elsewhere, but in terms of narrative? Sure! The only real inclination I have is that I think it’s more likely that she would be a killer than a victim, mostly because Ultimate Effects Artist is a talent that could lend itself to some really creative and fun murder setups. Given that I have more characters pegged as early game deaths right now, I lean towards J late game, but… man, I don’t know!

Teruko: Teruko is the protagonist, and also is a Lucky Student who allegedly “can’t die.” Especially after she made that claim, it would be silly if she died before the ending– it’d just kinda make her look like a fool. I’m not averse to theories where Teruko is no longer the protagonist by the end, whether by her death or someone else taking up the role for whatever reason, but in the sense that “Survivor” = “Chapter 6,” I think Teruko will survive. I’m not here to predict crazy last-minute Kiibo-blowing-himself-up twists.

Rose: I think that Rose has a really nice arc of overcoming her fears and becoming less passive set up in front of her. We spent enough time establishing her relationship with Teruko that I could see her being a good potential friend/support character to Teruko in the endgame if relationships with people like Eden or Charles fall through. (And, at this point, you know what I think about Eden and Charles…) She’s also good at delivering low-key jokes that can provide some levity without totally ruining the tone. We already saw some of that in this scene. The main things that I think could be standing in her way are her photographic memory and history of debt. The photographic memory could be too annoying of an obstacle to write around for the entire game, and instead be an ongoing effect set to expire in in Chapter 3. Additionally, a money motive paralleling THH’s in Chapter 3 could be too tempting for Rose to pass up. Really, what I’m saying is, if Rose can make it through Chapter 3, I think she’s golden. We’ll just have to see how that Chapter pans out in the future.

David: Oh, David. Currently serving as Teruko’s largest antagonist, I can see why people would think that he would die in Chapter 5. However, I’m not going to beat around the bush and pretend that I’m the only person who thinks David might survive, either. As an inspirational speaker, David is established early on as a character who should be a beacon of hope, before revealing that he’s more of a hope-sucking black hole. It would make sense if, alongside Teruko, he learns to find more of a balance between blithe optimism and cynical depression and heal as a person. He has a lot of very obvious depth that I think a lot of people want to see explored, and whose exploration would be very on-brand for the themes of a typical killing game story. Plus, if Teruko ever does stop being the protagonist, David probably needs to be alive at that point to pick up the slack.

Ace: Similar to Nico, it seems like we’ve already gotten a taste of what Ace being a victim would be like, in a way where I don’t think we’re going to see it again. He could still be a killer, but would the cowardly Ace even want to attempt killing someone and throwing himself into the scrutiny of a Class Trial? Well, it is true that Ace believes that “[neither] dying young or living a long, shitty life of suffering… are as bad as this” (the killing game?). So, he could simply grow fed up with the killing game and decide that risking a Class Trial is worth it, even if he does wind up dying young. However, if that were to occur, Chapter 2 seems like the narratively best time to do it, as it’s when his emotions are most potent and probably when others would least expect him to do it due to his weakened state. Like Rose, I feel the period Ace has most to worry about is this upcoming Chapter 2 killer slot, but if he makes it through, his arc of learning to escape his fear by bravely rising above it instead of lashing out to try to knock everyone down feels very viable.

Whit: The pro of the Inevitable CharWhit Doom Scenario is that, hopefully, one of the two would manage to make it as a survivor after the other one dies. And, I’m Team Whit Surviving! Not just based on which of the two I like better (they’re my first and second favorite characters, so I’m taking a massive L either way), but because I think it makes more sense for it to be Whit that lives further on. Unlike Charles, who feels like he’s already in the final lap of the character arc race, Whit has barely left the starting line. The laundry scene in Chapter 1 and Whit’s secret in Chapter 2 have both been used to establish that Whit focuses on his and others’ bliss in hopes of remaining ignorant of everything that stresses him. The main offender, of course, being that Whit lies about his mom being alive to presumably stave off his grief. The easiest way to give him a character arc that resolves that issue is to give him something to grieve– namely, Charles– and soon. If Whit’s main character struggle is pretending that people dying doesn’t bother him, he might need an entire Chapter or more to stubbornly show off his central flaw. Now, it is possible that, if Whit can’t overcome this flaw, he could die soon after Charles and meet a tragic fate. But, those just… aren’t the vibes, to me? A post-character arc Whit who knows how to grieve fiercely but healthily might come in handy if Teruko finds herself handling her own emotions about Xander, Min, and/or anyone else at the end of the game.

And here’s the bottom of the death order section!

Finally finished writing something that nobody asked of me at all. Well, I still think it was important, and I hope you feel the same.

Now that we’ve laid all that out, I think it’s finally time to actually see who I think the Danganronpa: Despair Time mastermind might be! Although, please keep in mind that, despite the large preamble full of story predictions, I’m still pretty uncertain on who I think the mastermind is. So, my points might not be the best supported, and I might change my mind again pretty soon after I post this theory. I expect to be far better at disproving why everyone is the mastermind rather than proving why anyone would be, because that’s generally how I feel… but, onwards we go!

#17: Arei Nageishi

(Forgive me for reusing art here, I’ve drawn these bastards ENOUGH /j)

If I were writing this after Despair Time’s prologue, like I did with P:EG, there’s a pretty good chance that Arei, at the very least, wouldn’t have placed dead last. But, well, now Arei is dead. And also last.

Obviously, there are other dead characters too. But still, Arei is the one who I most struggle to see as the mastermind. Given that Arei died as a victim whose body was thoroughly investigated by several parties, it’s pretty hard for me to believe that anyone could have missed any signs of life. I don’t get the sense that DRDT is in some kind of simulation where everyone can magically be alive again at the end either, so I think Arei is, sadly, well and truly dead.

On top of all that, we know a lot about her backstory from her Chapter 2 breakdown, and none of it seems to point her towards masterminding a killing game specifically. She doesn’t have any particular ties to any big organizations that would have helped her accomplish it, either. While she is NOT just a temporary weather spell whose absence will be celebrated and then forgotten, David… I have a hard time believing that the audience would find her character relevant enough(?) to be a good twist mastermind come Chapter 6 several years down the line.

I don’t think I really need to keep elaborating on this. Arei isn’t the mastermind.

#16: Charles Cuevas

I know it’s a bit of a bold move to put a character who’s currently alive below characters who have already died, but… man, I really just don’t see how Charles could pull this off.

And it’s not (just) because I think he’s going to die in Chapter 3 as part of Whit’s character arc, or that I want to believe that he’s a good person. Really, it’s mostly because of his phobias. How is a guy who started gagging at the sight of blood splattered on the floor supposed to be the one who orchestrated an entire death game? Could he get through the process of creating a brutal execution like Min’s without freezing up and freaking out? Even if he could do it, why would he? Sure, he didn’t seem to remember the fact that he had necrophobia until Xander died, but that might be even more of a problem. Wouldn’t the mastermind, who’s certainly had to consider the others’ deaths before, remember that they were afraid of death? He would almost certainly have to be lying about at least the scale of his reaction, although that’s probably a given if he is the mastermind.

Of course, there are mastermind subcategories that could better benefit Charles. If DRDT is actually a simulation, especially one in which the participants don’t actually die, that would definitely make it easier for him to be the one behind it. We’re also meant to believe that Charles has childhood amnesia, so he could have amnesia in other areas as well and be a mastermind who forgot they were one.

However, as I said before, I don’t particularly believe that DRDT is going to be a computer simulation or that Charles is an amnesiac mastermind. I just… don’t see this one in general.

#15: Xander Matthews

Let me preface this by saying that I’m not trying to argue that Xander is actually still alive. The concept that he would be able to fool not only Min, making her believe that she dealt him a fatal blow, but also everyone else as they identified his body, seems outlandish to me. However, just because Xander is dead doesn’t mean that he couldn’t have entered this game as the mastermind.

We know for a fact that Xander wanted to kill Teruko due to his dialogue regarding the note he received, which lines up well with the popular theory that Xander is the individual speaking in the first scene with the papers and the blood. If we assume he is that guy, then it may seem a little counterintuitive to think that the person who says “I have to end the killing game” would be the one behind the killing game. However, he also says, “Even if I can’t do that… I have to kill Teruko Tawaki,” implying that killing Teruko is of a higher priority than ending “the killing game.” Thus, if, for some reason, Xander thought that orchestrating the killing game was the only way to kill Teruko, it’s possible that he would be willing to let the death game roll for as long as it takes to eliminate his bigger target.

However, I can’t deny that the Xander mastermind theory has some massive flaws to it. For one, Xander is dead. I don’t think we’ve technically seen any evidence that the mastermind has to still be alive as of Chapter 2, but a mastermind-less Chapter 6 would be… an interesting challenge to write, to say the least. Also, while Xander betraying Teruko and the others was a great surprising hook the first time, if it happened again, it would be kind of… underwhelming, in my opinion. It’s the same kind of concept I brought up in my Eden’s Garden ranking:

Then, in Chapter 6, we’d be faced with the revelation that, wow, the mildly antagonistic character was actually a really antagonistic character all along! It just doesn’t seem like enough of a dramatic hook to me, I guess?

“Wow, the guy who betrayed Teruko and became a killer actually betrayed Teruko and was the mastermind all along! And now, he’s not even around to reap the social or karmic consequences of it!” You see.

And then, there is the literal interpretation of the text that Xander (if he is bloody hands man) obviously stands against the killing games. He’s also the Ultimate Rebel, someone who stands against corrupt institutions in general.

If Xander is revealed to be evil later down the line, it would make much more sense if it was as a traitor type. As for being the one and only mastermind, I think the odds are pretty low.

#14: Ace Markey

Hey, it’s another character that’s alive! And, this one doesn’t even have a crippling fear of death. However, he is a massive coward, and that’s the main thing that’s dragging him down for me.

Similar to Charles, what would Ace stand to gain from hosting a killing game such as this? Ace doesn’t seem to have any interest in notoriety, money, the destruction of society, despair, or any other things that I can think of that would motivate a typical mastermind. We’ve seen time and time again that Ace cares most about having control over both his life and how other people see him, even though he often fails on both fronts. I guess both of those things could be solved by hosting a killing game, but… Come on, there have gotta be easier ways to do that which don’t threaten your precious life.

Furthermore, what exactly would Ace being the mastermind have to say about the story as a whole? Jockey has to be in the running for “talents that are least relevant to a potential killing game host.” How about the idea that the mastermind nearly died in Chapter 2, only to go off the rails threatening and blaming his assailant? I… always knew that Nico was… fully in the right for doing that, because it would have killed the big bad early??? Ace Mastermind is the preferred ending for those who believe that Nico can do absolutely no wrong, lol.

I can’t remember where I saw it, but I once saw a theory of writing that said that there are two major kinds of character arcs. One is the typical character arc, where the narrative pushes a character's traits to change over the course of the story for better of for worse. The other, this theory posited, was an arc on the part of the viewer, where they learn that a character that they thought was flawed was actually not as flawed as they thought all along. You could potentially apply this kind of thing to Eden: in the first chapter, some people may have seen her as a dim-witted positive girl, but in Chapter 2, we firmly establish that her kindness is not stupidity and learn how her optimism is a strength.

So, you could say that the character arc DRDTdev is going for with Ace is something more like that, where we spend the entire game learning to treat him more seriously just in time for him to be a real threat as the mastermind? It still feels like a bit of a stretch, though– I don’t know exactly what Ace would do to make us take him more seriously that wouldn’t either send him on a growth arc not super befitting of a mastermind or wind up with him being a blackened. Ace as the mastermind certainly isn’t impossible, but I obviously found it unlikely enough that I placed him below one character who is currently (presumed) dead.

#13: Arturo Giles

Arturo’s role in the story so far is not very mastermind-ish, in my mind. In the prologue, we establish him as a cold and judgmental person who puts his own opinions of how the world works over everything else, especially how other people feel. This already feels like how a mastermind would act, so if he turned out to be the mastermind, it would be more of the same.

Then, in Chapter 2, we establish that he’s a massive simp for celebrities, to the point of transforming into something adjacent to comedic relief. We’re meant to think that his over-the-top sprites and refusal to actually listen to anything J is saying is hilariously pathetic. Other characters are constantly dunking on him, such as Teruko calling him a “bigoted” “crazy person,” and even the narrative gets in on the action when highlighting how he cares less about the fact that J’s life was at risk than that she didn’t come out of it with drip. Narratively, we’ve already seen these characters get the better of Arturo. If we the audience interpret that as confirmation that the surviving cast could easily beat Arturo should he ever come to stand in their way, it could diminish the stakes upon his mastermind reveal.

However, for all of his negatives, there are some definite positives to Arturo being the mastermind, too. Despite his comedic effects, we have seen through his threats to Eden that Arturo is very capable of being very scary in a way that I don’t think we have with Ace. The horror factor of a plastic surgeon as the mastermind could be a really fun and creepy design theme to explore. And, Arturo is obviously super obsessed with celebrities. If hosting a deadly TV show is what he thought it would take to get him in with the Hollywood celebrity scene, he might be willing to go for it.

I don’t really know why he would have made his secret what it is if he was going to get that upset about it, though. I guess if there just weren’t any better options that wouldn’t tip his hand…? Also, Arturo would blend in terribly as a survivor. If you’re heading into Chapter 6 and you have to pick the evil character out of (let me spin a wheel real quick...) Teruko, Eden, Rose, Charles, and Arturo, Arturo is definitely the evil one. (Okay, that was actually a terrible randomized draw for Arturo on the innocence front, but I hope you can imagine how he would oddly stick out of most groups.) Like I said in his death predictions, I find it hard to imagine a character arc for Arturo, which is why I find it hard to believe that he would make it as far as Chapter 6.

#12: Min Jeung

Honestly, if Min weren’t (most likely) dead, she might be pretty high on my list of mastermind choices. While not as suspicious as the Spurlings, XF-Ture Tech is pretty suspicious, even more so with the introduction of that one altDRDT character. Min is related to XF-Ture Tech, so if that company has anything to do with the operation of the killing game, she could have been the one behind it. Min is also very smart, and her talent has obvious applications for how it could have been used to set up/influence the killing game. The fact that her talent is so similar to Teruko’s, Ultimate Student versus Ultimate Lucky Student, could have also set them up for some great parallels and duality down the line.

However… Min’s role as the Chapter 1 killer throws a pretty big wrench in her chances. Beyond the dying part, Min’s role as the blackened was incredibly evitable. It’s not like she was thrown into a situation where she had to kill or be killed, or even one where a motive was particularly difficult for her. If she wanted to be the mastermind and survive until the end, all she had to do was walk away from Xander stabbing Teruko and pretend she never saw it. However, if Min’s goal was the inverse of ol’ Bloody Hands (keep the killing game running, but most importantly, keep Teruko alive), her actions could line up. And then, perhaps Min could have falsified her own execution early to draw suspicion off of her, much like Junko did by killing Mukuro.

Beyond her death, though, it’s really Min’s reaction to being the blackened that makes me think she can’t be the mastermind. The stellar voice acting in Min’s breakdown scenes makes me really believe both that this was the first time she had ever hurt anyone as gravely as she did to Xander, and that she fully believed that she was about to die. Those are two things that a mastermind, especially one headed into a fake execution, would not be feeling. Maybe Min memorized how to be a great actress too amongst all those textbooks, but I doubt it. I can still see several reasons why Min would have been a good mastermind, but her actual death and her reaction to being told she was dying knock her down several pegs in my mind.

#11: Hu Jing

Hu is a bit more suspicious to me than some others just because I think she has something to hide. Between her refusal to share whose secret she received or had herself, mysterious “I want to pay for what I’ve done” hidden quote, and intense desire to be relied upon, there’s definitely something about Hu as a person that the narrative has yet to uncover. Could that something be “Hu is the mastermind”? I dunno, maybe.

Hu also has a tendency to react to things with her temper. That could be a sort of foreshadowing to how she would act as the mastermind, much like how David’s brief spell of apathy during the prologue hinted at the way he would act further down the line. Hu’s defense of Nico could act much the same way. Our overall impression of Hu at this point is that, while she is a flawed person, she’s one of the nicest and morally best people in the game, who’s always looking out for others. Defending Nico to the point of babying them might cross the line a little, but she’s only trying to help everyone…! Hu could make it to the end as a believably heroic survivor and then reveal that all of her presumed poor decisions were actually active malice, and I think she could pull that off.

All that being said… I don’t, like, actually think that’s going to happen. In fact, I’m probably overexaggerating the extent to which people think that Hu is nice and morally good. I’ve seen several people discuss the unjust amounts of hate Hu gets in this fandom, which implies that a lot of people hate her, even if I haven’t particularly seen much of it myself. At the very least, I definitely over exaggerated the extent to which people believe Hu could survive! As implied in the death order predictions, I do personally think Hu is going to die, possibly as a consequence of getting too invested in everyone else’s business when they don’t want her to be and/or wearing herself too thin. There are paths which I believe could lead to Hu being the mastermind, but they seem to be the roads less likely traveled.

#10: David Chiem

While I have no doubts that David has the fame, charisma, and worldview to pull off a killing game… I’d have to wonder about how he would see himself playing into all of it. As we saw in Chapter 2, David knows that his career has a lot of value, possibly to himself but definitely to other people, and therefore, he doesn’t want to jeopardize it. In fact, the reveal of his manipulative secret was the inciting incident behind his massive change in characterization. So, if he were the mastermind of a televised killing game… How would he think that would play out to his viewers?

Now, to be fair, there’s a lot we don’t know about the worldbuilding of DRDT. MonoTV claims that the TV show will be broadcast to a widespread audience. Perhaps that indicates that, in the world of DRDT, publicly broadcasting talented young peoples’ violent deaths is normal, or even sought after. Maybe the cast of DRDT forgot about it.

However, David seems to think that people learning that he sees everyone as manipulable would do damage to his reputation, so it’s a bit of a contradiction either way. If the world has been wracked with despair and craves intense violence on TV, then David’s reaction to his secret is either an elaborate lie or the result of the mastermind erasing his own memories regarding the situation. (Or, I guess the public could see death as fine and dandy but manipulation as a cancellable offense, which is… one of the interpretations ever.) Otherwise, in the scenario that the DRDT world is a normal one, David wouldn’t care about being revealed as a manipulator if he’d already committed to the mastermind bit. If his career was already preemptively ruined by agreeing to commit literal murder, why get so worked up about the thought that people might abandon ship over you not being 100% honest?

And then, there’s also the whole “surprise factor” thing that I keep bringing up. Admittedly, it’s been a longer hiatus between the start of Chapter 2 and the end of Chapter 2 than DRDTdev might have been hoping for, but that doesn’t change the fact that this part of David’s characterization happened in Chapter 2. DRDT fans far and wide have written thousands of words gushing over “the David reveal” or “evil David.” If David were unveiled as the mastermind, we’d have to start writing stuff about “the first David reveal” or “when David showed his true colors again.” You see how it kind of takes the hype away from such major plot points? That’s the sort of concept I’ve been trying to get across with some of my other choices too, but a bit more clear cut.

I don’t know why I sound so much like a hater in this section (in my opinion) when I’m literally putting David at #10, above seven other characters. I guess it’s because I can see why his theatricality and traits foiling Teruko could make him a good mastermind, but also have some major issues with the logistics of him getting there. A lot of good points versus a lot of bad points settle out to him winding up someone in the middle.

#9: Levi Fontana

With our first single digit number, we’ve also reached our midway point of mastermind candidates: Levi!

Levi would be a really interesting mastermind choice because of how his character centers around grappling with his morality. I think it would be really intriguing to have a mastermind outwardly struggling with their attempts and failures to be a good person throughout the entire game, only for the player and the characters to receive the full context of the debacle at the very end. I guess in this situation, it would be pretty likely that Levi would be redeemed at the end? That’s not necessarily a problem. (Honestly, I don’t know if I think the DRDT mastermind could be redeemed or not based on the fangan’s themes… that’s a post for another day, perhaps.)

Anyways, I think that what we know of Levi’s backstory could work well with him being the mastermind. If he does have the “murderer without remorse” secret, that would be in line with orchestrating a killing game. We also know that he’s “been disowned” and that he and his family were “all bad influences on each other.” We’re meant to assume that Levi was fortunate enough to escape a bad/abusive situation (and in all likelihood this IS what actually happened!!!!), but we are hearing about the situation from his point of view alone. There is a small possibility that, if Levi is actually a despair enjoyer, his family cut him out because they thought he was a danger to their lives.

I will reiterate again, though, that I don’t think this is the case. Levi seems like he’s a chill guy, or at least that he’s trying very hard to be one despite how he’s been told to react all his life. The whole “mastermind wanting to become a good person” lens also makes less sense given how channeled Levi’s development is through Ace. Like, I would imagine that, if this were the angle DRDTdev was going for, Levi would be making an effort to get along with everyone as part of his atonement. The mastermind randomly choosing to focus on just one person out of the crowd seems kind of strange, especially when that person is someone as disagreeable as Ace. That kind of plot would have big “the mafia CEO vampire prince fell head over heels in love with me, the random average girl” vibes. Repenting mastermind Levi is the preferred ending for pining lovers to enemies to lovers AceVi shippers, lol.

And then there’s the part where I think he’s going to die. I don’t think Levi is the worst mastermind choice, but I think there are better out there.

#8: Nico Hakobyan

Yay, we finally got to one of the characters that Anon thought was suspicious! It only took… 7k+ words. Oh boy.

I definitely think that the cat coding is the strongest thing that Nico has going for them. It would be pretty funny if the extent to which “Ultimate Pet Therapist” is relevant to the plot is the climactic reveal that “yeah Nico has been talking to a (robotic) animal the whole time.” That’s a joke, as Ultimate Pet Therapist is already quite relevant to Nico’s characterization as someone who prefers communicating with animals over people, but it would be funny as hell from a character designing perspective.

There are less silly reasons to believe that Nico is the mastermind too, though. While it seems like, similar to David, pulling the trigger on Nico’s change in behavior in Chapter 2 would be a bit early, I don’t think it’s as destructive to mastermind Nico as it is to mastermind David. There’s a lot more doubt in people’s minds that Nico even did anything to Ace, to the extent that a decent number of people (in the story and out of it) think that it was someone else trying to kill Ace entirely. Nico also has a stalwart defender in Hu, which adds an extra level of intrigue to the situation. Instead of confirming that everyone was right to be suspicious of David, at least some amount of focus could be placed onto Hu being wrong for trusting Nico and failing to see someone’s true colors again, which could be interesting for her characterization if she was alive at that point.

On the other hand, the biggest reason that I think Nico isn’t the mastermind is also because of the attempted Ace murder. Why would Nico, as the mastermind, try to kill Ace at this time? If Nico wins the Class Trial, then the killing game is over, which is probably counter to the mastermind’s goals. If Nico loses the Class Trial, well, we’ll say that the possibility of Nico dying isn’t an issue, as they could just fake their own death or deny entering the execution. But still, why?

It could be that Nico was trying to remove themselves from the killing game on purpose, but I don’t see why it would be necessary. No one was particularly suspicious of Nico being the mastermind, and if they were worried about their gender identity getting out, they could have simply made their secret something else. A mastermind could kill to avoid the killing game falling into a standstill, but tensions were really high at the time that Ace almost died! With a full day left to go before the motive secrets were revealed, such drastic action wasn’t yet forced. I guess the best option would be that Nico was just really angered by what Ace said, and wanted to retaliate as part of their vicious mastermind nature. Is that worth taking yourself out of the killing game and risking the show’s termination, though…?

There is also the possibility that Nico is the mastermind, but didn’t try to kill Ace. In that case, suspicion of Nico would be such a huge in-universe coincidence that I’m doubtful DRDTdev would have included it as a major plot point.

Speaking of “show’s termination,” I also don’t know why Nico would have any involvement in creating a TV show, both from a backstory/talent perspective and a personality one. Nico doesn’t like interacting with people. Therefore, I don’t know what would possess them to want to create and join a TV show for which the major draw is a big stressful discussion between a bunch of people.

I guess I had fewer reasons why I thought Nico would be the mastermind than I thought. I would love to hear more details about why you suspect Nico though, Anon! I’m definitely willing to believe that they could be the mastermind.

#7: Eden Tobisa

Make no mistake, I still think that Eden is the Chapter 2 killer. However, in the case that she isn’t… mastermind isn’t a terrible choice for her.

The biggest draw of Eden being the mastermind would definitely be the shock value. The seemingly nicest character suddenly being revealed as the mastermind would create a huge hurdle for the surviving characters to overcome. Teruko especially, given that she probably would have grown at least a tad closer to Eden if they survived five chapters together. It would be a little mean to give Teruko a trustworthy friend just to rip it away from her again, but I could see the opportunity being used to highlight Teruko’s growth. When Xander and Min betrayed Teruko, she panicked and shut everyone out, but when Eden betrays Teruko at the very end, she’s able to remain strong and rely on the other friends who she continues to trust. Or DRDT could have an unconventional feel-bad ending, I suppose.

If some kind of time loop is at play within DRDT, then Eden’s talent would obviously be thematically and perhaps practically relevant as well. I could see a lot of comparisons being made regarding a killing game being run “like clockwork.” Her secret quote “you can’t go back, no matter how hard you try” is... actually kind of anti-time loop, but at least the concept of going back in time is somewhat related…? Speaking of secret quotes, her Mai quote, “she kept calling the number, even though no one picked it up” is also really weird. That suspicious hidden evidence could point to her being the mastermind.

However, Eden’s personality is a pretty major issue when it comes to her being the mastermind. Shock value is great in the moment, but it can ring hollow in retrospect if people find that the twist doesn’t make any sense. Masterminds aren’t typically known for their kindness or optimism. So, if Eden is the mastermind, it seems like her whole “even if this world is cruel, I’ll still make the choice to be kind” speech is a complete lie. And, that would be a shame! I don’t think that having an unexpected mastermind at the end of the game is worth the cost of completely demolishing a character that we’ve come to know and love over the course of six chapters and several years. (I’m not saying that complete demolition has to be the case if Eden is the mastermind, but I think it’s a reasonable worry that many people have.)

And, I know that all this talk about how wonderful Eden is might sound rich coming from someone who strongly believes that she just killed someone who wanted to be her best friend. But, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? As someone who thinks that Eden is the killer, I know very well how a lot of people have a really hard time believing that Eden could do something as terrible as killing Arei. I can only imagine how hard it would be to accept that Eden was the one who put Arei, Min, Teruko, and everyone else in danger, and the one pulling the strings behind every execution.

Eden as the mastermind, to me, is more tempting in concept than it would be viable in execution. And also, I don’t even think she’s going to live to see the light of Chapter 3 day. However, there’s also some definite emotional power behind the accusation that makes me see how shooting for this ambitious choice could be worth it in the long run.

#6: Whit Young

Alright, it’s finally time to talk about Whit. I know that he’s a really popular mastermind choice, but… I just don’t see it, personally. Even though I put him at 6th place. (I do not enjoy putting him in 6th place.) Is that just because he’s my favorite and I’m attached to my interpretation of the character? Perhaps. But, I’d still like to explore some points that I find faulty.

Perhaps the biggest reason behind suspicion of Whit that I’ve seen is the way that he breaks the fourth wall. People connect his asking people to pause for the evidence list to MonoTV invoking similar mechanics, and lines such as “do you really think she’d be hanging out in the playground” to him knowing more than he’s letting on. However, there are a couple of ways that this accusation can be depowered, in my opinion.

Firstly, Whit isn’t the only person who says stuff like this. Veronika alludes to the killing game before it begins, Teruko also breaks the fourth wall to tell the viewer to pause (albeit only in her thoughts, not out loud), and Arei makes the same kind of “hanging” wordplay in Eden’s flashback that Whit did. I won’t say that characters addressing the fourth wall can’t be important at all, because I believe there are some moments where the other characters commentate on how weird it is that MonoTV is talking to no one. However, I also think that breaking the fourth wall may simply be part of DRDTdev’s humor, as exemplified by that “make sure to like and subscribe so that Teruko has enough mental strength to carry on” joke. Whit is a funny guy, so it just makes sense that if DRDTdev’s brain generates funny meta jokes, Whit would get some of them. Everything that Whit says reminds me more of Mia AceAttorney saying “hit tab to open the Court Record” than some sort of groundbreaking DDLC-Undertale direct communication with the viewer. However, I can see why others would think otherwise.

The second is that I think some of Whit’s comments (more so the “dead at 3” and “hanging in the playground” than the pause) are just meant to showcase his intuition. And, yeah, it could be that DRDTdev has been leaving crumbs of Whit’s intuition behind so that in Chapter 6, he can use it to exploit everyone’s insecurities and greatest despair. To me, though, Whit’s intuition has always reminded me of the myth of Cassandra.

For those who don’t know, Cassandra is a figure in Greek mythology who was blessed/cursed to receive prophecies, but for no one to ever believe them. By my interpretation, Whit is a really smart and perceptive guy who has strikingly accurate gut feelings about how things will play out down the road, even when he doesn’t realize it himself. However, the curse of his own coping mechanism– choosing to act like an eternally cheerful goofball– leads the majority of the other students, and perhaps some of the viewers, to never take his point of view seriously. He can only realize the accuracy behind what he said after the bad things have already happened, leading him to blame himself more and more for not being able to speak up and help when times were tough.

This kind of behavior would line up with two different themes we’ve seen from Whit before. The first, that when he jokes around without thinking, he can accidentally say hurtful things that he later reprimands himself for. We saw that when Charles blew up at him at the end of their shared FTE. The second is Whit’s major theme of good things hiding a darker undercurrent. Being the Ultimate Matchmaker is great until you’ve never had a successful relationship yourself. Having an awesome mom is great until the truth comes out that she’s actually dead, and you’ve been covering it up. Growing super close to someone is great until he dies. Having an amazing intuition and understanding of everyone is great until you can never actually use it to help those you care about. Joking around is great until it's all you can do. Pretending everything is fine is great until it’s not.

Like I said, very specific interpretation. I promise I was not citing classical literature to make my argument sound smarter than it actually is. I am aware that my interpretation of Whit is no less or more valid than everyone else’s. However, it’s one that I hold very close to my heart, and thus, I personally have a hard time seeing around it.

However, I’ve also seen a lot of people argue some valid points for Whit, so I can at least acknowledge that he deserves to be in the upper echelon of choices. There’s a lot of weird stuff regarding him in Literature Girl Insane, and he’s certainly an option of someone who felt so much grief that they became totally empty inside as shown in that one hidden quote. I would be appropriately surprised and heartbroken if Whit revealed himself as the mastermind in Chapter 6, so he checks the box in that regard. There isn’t anything from his backstory that opposes the notion that he set up the killing game, and, to quote what I said about our other Ultimate Matchmaker, Toshiko…

While Ultimate Matchmaker might seem like a silly talent to give the mastermind, it could also be a ruse to distract us from the fact that [Whit] has a talent that allows [him] to read people well and make choices that will impact their lives dramatically.

I don’t like it, but I can see the argument… kind of. To me, most mastermind Whit interpretations feel like mischaracterization, but as a theorist, I always try to keep in mind that I’m the one who could be twisting the text to my whims as well. In this my-opinions-based list, though, he’s not getting any higher than 6th.

#5: Veronika Grebenshchikova

Ooh, what spooky art for a spooky mastermind. Let’s be real, though, Veronika is way too obvious of a mastermind candidate to actually be the mastermind. Unless… she’s so obvious that she loops back around to not being obvious, and thus, is the perfect mastermind candidate?!

Veronika is in a really weird place. I obviously have no doubts that she would have any moral qualms about hosting a killing game, because she’s told us herself that she doesn’t. She knows what Monokuma is in immense detail, but claims to have no idea what a killing game is. She’s dressed really similarly to Junko, though. Is that just a coincidence? Are giant pigtails also a symbol of fear in the DRDTverse? I need ANSWERS, LADY!!!

The biggest problem I see with Veronika is the potential for obviousness. Similar to Arturo, if she actually made it to Chapter 6, I feel like it would be pretty obvious what’s going on. An oddball like Veronika is not the typical survivor type (although she could break the mold). Because Teruko’s character arc is all about trusting people, it would make sense if the reveal of the mastermind was someone who challenged her trust to some degree. With Veronika being obviously unhinged the whole time, I don’t think that Teruko would have any particular difficulties with kicking her to the curb.

However, Veronika clearly has the motive to start a killing game, and potentially to spread despair. DRDT has taken inspiration from Trigger Happy Havoc in the past, so it could make sense if DRDT’s mastermind was also inspired by THH’s. Having a so-obvious-it’s-not-obvious mastermind could also be another way to mess with theorists like me, as DRDTdev did with the comments section portion of Literature Girl Insane. “bro Veronika being the mastermind would be WAY too obvious” sounds EXACTLY like “I just hope XXXXXX doesn’t go crazy and kill in chapter 3. That would be way too predictable” or “XXXXX will obviously die in ch5”. If part of the point of DRDT is to make know-it-all analysts rethink the rules they believe to be set in stone, I could see Veronika as a subversive choice.

Veronika definitely seems to be building up to something, but I don’t know if being the mastermind is exactly it. I think that Veronika could make it pretty late into the game, but I still struggle to see her making it all the way to Chapter 6. I would absolutely love to see what DRDTdev does with her writing if that is the case, though. 

#4: Mai Akasaki

(Well, now I feel bad that I’ve never made a colored portrait of Mai.)

As you may have noticed back at our first entry, Arei, I started the countdown off at seventeen, not sixteen. (If you didn’t remember that, I don’t blame you– it was a WHILE ago.) That’s because I thought it was only fair to include DRDT’s best kept(?) secret, the lovely Unnamed Student herself, Mai Akasaki, as an option! Because, man, is she mysterious in some suspicious ways.

“But, didn’t MonoTV tell the students that the mastermind was one of them? Mai isn’t one of the students in the killing game (unless prosopagnosia is REALLY going crazy), so she can’t be the mastermind, right?” Well, yes and no. The scene where MonoTV confirms the existence of the mastermind is SUPER weird. Let’s take a look at it.

On one hand, MonoTV is still in the Movie Screening Room, where it was JUST talking to the student body, so it would only stand to reason that it’s a continuation of the scene we just saw. However, the setting also seems to be doing everything in its power to tell us that this is NOT the same scene we just saw. The lights have been turned off, even though they were on in the scene just before this. They return to being on in the first scene of Chapter 1, which the students treat as being directly after the scene during which the lights were on before. The widget denoting the time, chapter, and episode has completely disappeared, placing this at an even more unknown time than “Time Unknown.” The text indicating that the speaker is MonoTV has even disappeared! I mean, I assume that MonoTV is still the one saying it, considering that it’s on screen and the speech bubble is pointing right at it, but we don’t even know that for sure!

Additionally, MonoTV refers to the viewers directly (“dear viewers”) two speech bubbles after this one, which makes it seem more like MonoTV is talking to us the audience rather than the students in the room. But then, if the mastermind is “one of you,” and MonoTV is talking to us, wouldn’t that mean the mastermind is someone in the audience? That could lead in to some really meta interpretations of the text (i.e. “DRDTdev is the mastermind of DRDT because he’s the one who created the killing game”) or it could indicate that I’ve gone fully off the rails. 

A midpoint between those two ideas is that the mastermind is part of the in-universe audience watching the killing game, as in, a fictional character who is watching the real-to-them TV show that is Danganronpa: Despair Time. That could include Mai, a very notable character who is not one of the sixteen participants in the killing game.

Side note, I’ve seen some people fight back against the concept that Mai could be the mastermind with the idea that making the mysterious character the mastermind would be too obvious. While I sort of agree, I feel like we’re somewhat overestimating the extent to which Mai is obvious. It’s not like no casual viewers would know who she is, because her image was shown pretty obviously in Chapter 1. However, the name “Mai Akasaki” is only accessible by finding the hidden quotes on the optional associated website’s character profiles. To learn anything about her beyond that, you have to have the thought to type the name into the website URL, and then solve another puzzle just to see the bare bones of what’s there.

I’m not trying to assert any sort of dominance or superiority over DRDT fans on YouTube, Twitter, TikTok, or anything else, but from what I’ve gathered, Tumblr is the place you want to go for deep analysis and theories on DRDT (possibly because of Tumblr’s longer word count). Therefore, anything about DRDT that may seem like common knowledge on Tumblr may only be common knowledge to the fans who specifically bothered to come to the deep lore and crack theories website to find deep lore and crack theories. Essentially, this:

Sort of similar to what Gravity Falls did with the reveal of Bill Cipher back in 2012 (at least I think, I wasn’t actually in the Gravity Falls fandom at that time), I think it would be reasonable to plant clues about an overarching villain that people who want to analyze can analyze ahead of time, such that the villain’s arrival can come as a victory to the puzzle solvers and an exciting new development to the more casual viewers.

However, while I believe that Mai has an awesome setup that she could use to become the mastermind, whether she would actually fit the role is another question entirely. As I alluded to back in the first Mai paragraph, I’m rolling with the widely held (among theorizers) belief that the Unnamed Student in Xander and Min’s bonus episodes is supposed to be Mai. In those episodes, Mai seems to be incredibly caring, peppy, and sweet. She knows a ton of little heartwarming details about Min and Xander, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the same is shown to be true with Arei and whoever else’s bonus episodes in the future. Those hidden quotes on Mai’s profile also give off the impression that everyone in the cast really loves Mai– one could call them a “portrait of a person dearly loved,” perhaps.

While it’s possible that these scenes are supposed to highlight Mai’s social prowess and how much she can get people to fall in love with her, they… don’t really seem to be giving off those vibes. We see her thoughts in those bonus videos, and she really does seem to be dedicated to helping Min and Xander out. Mai’s change from someone who wanted nothing more than to help out her friends to someone who was willing to throw all of them into the killing game is something that would have to be explained, and it could be difficult to communicate that shift within the confines of bonus material, if Mai’s content is mostly kept there. There is the concept that Mai could have put her friends into a killing game to protect them somehow, which could be a way to avoid Mai’s character seemingly doing a total 180, but that rationale would need a lot of explanation too.

Otherwise, there’s also the problem that Mai is almost certainly dead. I won’t get super into it myself, because the amazing @1moreff-creator has already done a great job explaining why here (starts in the XI. God is Dead section). I don’t think I need to elaborate on why Mai being dead potentially before the killing game even began would be detrimental to the idea of her being the mastermind.

To be honest, I don’t know how much this idea actually makes sense. I think I’m personally more inclined to believe that Mai could be the mastermind just because I really don’t get mastermind vibes from pretty much anybody in the cast. If the mastermind simply wasn’t one of the members of the main cast, that could solve that issue, right…? Mai is very likely involved in the inception of the killing game somehow, so extending that role to one of being the mastermind isn’t the biggest stretch. However, her personality and living status do throw in some pretty big question marks, so I don’t think she should go any higher.

#3: Teruko Tawaki

Teruko was definitely the first character who I believed could be the mastermind after I watched the series for the first time. However, over time, I’ve sort of fallen off of the idea that she would be. Is that because I’m forgetting key details of the plot, or because I’m drifting closer to the truth…? Honestly, I have no idea.

Let’s start with the strongest “evidence” we have against Teruko, her motive secret: “How could I even select which secret to make your motive? Just about everything you’ve done in your life is worth killing for. The killing game is all your fault.” Although “the killing game [being] all [Teruko’s] fault” sounds pretty damning, there’s the obvious counterargument to be made that this isn’t even Teruko’s motive. In fact, the board currently shows it assigned to Xander. However, the majority of people (including myself) seem to believe that David was lying, and this secret is Teruko’s. So, let’s analyze under that assumption.

Teruko did admit to Veronika that she doesn’t know what secret could be used as her motive because there were so many. Even if that motive secret isn’t hers, that still means that Teruko has done a lot of shady stuff. Teruko’s decision to live on set forever could line up with the mastermind's goal of wanting to keep the cameras rolling as well. The very first scene of DRDT shows that someone who wants the killing game to end also wants Teruko dead, which implies that Teruko and the killing games are on the same side.

Teruko also has a prior history of concealing things about herself from us, the viewing audience. We knew basically nothing about her past or trust issues before Xander stabbed her, causing her sudden change in attitude to come as a blindside. Teruko apparently has a “risky” killing game-ending plan in mind for the end of the second Class Trial that she’s told us absolutely nothing about. And, most notably, Teruko clearly knows things about Mai that she’s decided not to share with viewers at home. (I do believe that Teruko genuinely can’t remember Mai’s name, but she does remember that Mai is similar to Xander and wanted to help, which is more than anything we would have known from the main text on our own).

Point is, DRDT is written in a way where we don’t hear a ton of Teruko’s thoughts. That would make it much easier for her to scheme something behind the scenes, as opposed to someone who we get a lot of emotional reactions or logical theorizing from. It’s actually kind of similar to the difference between Kaede and Shuichi’s styles of narration, as pointed out by ShortOneGaming in their impeccable v3 playthrough! I recommend watching their entire letsplay if you're in the mood for v3, but I found one time where they talked about this concept here. I’ll transcribe it for anyone who doesn’t want to open YouTube right now:

Gina: I do want to call– as my final sort of note– what’s interesting is that you called out immediately that Kaede’s narration was weird. That, it was always, like– dictation? Allison: Yes! Gina: It’s always, like, speaking directly to a person– Allison: Yes! Yes, I did say– It never really felt like actual internal monologue. Like, she never was expressing her thoughts or anything to us. I mean, yes, she was, but then there were those weird moments where she was, like… y’know, hiding it from the player, and… probably from herself, too, to some extent. Like, she was just like, “and then I had to go do this thing.” Um, and like, “we won’t really address how I’m feeling about this.” Gina: Yep. Allison: And at the same time, it hides it from the– the player. And that was very clever. Really good. I mean, her– yeah, her narration was always kind of weird. But, she did have moments where she had internal reflection.

Hopefully, you can see the comparison. By putting a greater emphasis on actions as opposed to what Teruko is feeling (“I kneeled down and touched his neck” after finding Ace’s presumed-dead body; “Everyone else started filtering in” when people walk into the Playground and find Arei’s corpse), it becomes much easier to have Teruko hide exactly what she knows or exactly how she feels about certain events. It’s actually the opposite of the kind of narration that Damon had (“I’m trapped in a killing game… with people who despise me. How… how did this happen? I just wanted to help… I wanted to make sure we didn’t trust each other too easily… and now I’m being treated like the bad guy” after the 0th Class Trial) that made me believe he wasn’t the mastermind!

So, do I think that Teruko would be a mastermind who remembers, or a mastermind who forgot? Well, I could kind of see it either way. Personally, I think that Teruko being a mastermind whose memories are intact is the more interesting version, and I do believe it’s possible. I also don’t understand why someone with as many trust issues as Teruko has would want to remove her own memories if it weren’t necessary. Then again, Teruko being an amnesiac mastermind could make up for some of the… issues that arise with her as a mastermind candidate.

What? She’s in third place, not first. Despite how long I’ve already talked about Teruko, there’s still more to say!

First, the problems if Teruko did retain her memories: why would she ask MonoTV about the mastermind’s identity when the two were alone? Why would she be creating a plan to end the killing game? Why would she pretend to not know who Mariabella Rosales was even though everyone else clearly knew?

And then, the problems that persist even if Teruko did lose her memories: where would Teruko have gotten the resources to plan a killing game of this caliber? Even if she had them, why would she use it on this? Assuming that secret is hers, why would she write that about herself in a plausibly public place (beyond the swapping, Arei looked over Whit’s shoulder)?

Oh yeah, back to that secret. Just because “the killing game is all [Teruko’s] fault” doesn’t mean that she’s the one who planned it. In fact, the wording sounds very accusatory and hostile for something that Teruko would have theoretically written to herself. From the first scene, we already know that there is a person or group of people somewhere who are out to get Teruko. It could make more sense if that entity is the mastermind, and wrote the secret to blame Teruko for whatever she did that got her on their bad side.

There’s probably more to be said, but hopefully you can see why I have so many mixed feelings about Teruko. I definitely think she’s one of the more likely mastermind candidates out there, but I still don’t know exactly how likely that is, y’know?

#2: Rose Lacroix

Once upon a time, a wise and powerful theory alchemist known only by the epithet @1moreff-creator postulated that Rose could be the mastermind of Despair Time, and then never elaborated on the idea at all. For centuries (a couple of weeks) the townsfolk (me) were baffled by these dark and mysterious ramblings. However, as seasons passed by, as travelers came and went, as the tide advanced to kiss the land before slinking back to its home once more– the idea… started making more and more sense?

Rose is a really smart character who has already shown her proficiency in Class Trials. In the first, she utilized her ability to perfectly capture the scene and her knowledge of chromatography. Although her talents haven’t been as useful so far in the second, she’s still managed to keep up with the conversation despite never looking at the scene of the crime. Thus, I can see why, from a writing perspective, DRDTdev would choose to make his mastermind the Ultimate Art Forger.

There’s also the angle that Rose is a criminal, and therefore could be willing to do illegal or immoral things. However, she does seem to be pretty remorseful about it, and she’s already been caught for her criminal behavior before. Unfortunately for her, her relationship with her saviors the Spurlings only makes her all the more suspicious. Even if Rose didn’t want to be the mastermind of a killing game, if the Spurlings forced her to do it, she might have not had a choice. (Xander is very against the Spurlings… Xander is bloody hands guy → stop the killing game → stop the Spurlings?)

I also like the angle of “the Spurlings forced her to do it” because of what I talked about back in Mai’s section– the concept of the mastermind not being among the students. In Rose’s case, you can get the best of both worlds. The entity behind the killing game, the Spurling Foundation, would be a group outside of the killing game for MonoTV to contact, but there would still be a student among the cast’s ranks to suspect and accuse come Chapter 6.

What’s the argument against Rose? Well, I would ask why Rose would want to put herself in this kind of situation, but if it was the Spurlings’ choice, then that explains that. You could say Rose has been too helpful to be a bad guy, but everything she’s done so far has been to help the students win a Class Trial. That keeps the killing game running, which keeps the show on. The biggest problem I’m thinking of at the moment is the notion that the Spurling Foundation would have chosen to make Rose’s secret about how her backstory led her into their clutches. However, the secret doesn’t actually acknowledge the Spurlings by name, and it also frames Rose’s crimes in a way that makes her look like a good person– the opposite of what someone would think of as a mastermind. The secret was also only intended for Rose’s eyes, so it could have functioned as more of a low-key threat to remind her why she needs to stay in line.

Shouldn’t all of this talk of Rose lacking agency make her a bad mastermind candidate, though? If a villain doesn’t even believe in their villainous motivations, the story could end on a really flat note, with the good guys steamrolling an evildoer who doesn’t really care. How are we supposed to reach a satisfying conclusion if the mastermind hardly has anything to be held accountable for?

Those are normally things I would argue, but as many have pointed out, Teruko isn’t a normal protagonist. Actually, I think that this kind of mastermind setup for Rose could be a great way to end Teruko’s arc about learning to trust other people. Rose is the mastermind, somebody who shouldn’t be trusted…! It would be so easy for Teruko to just crush this person who betrayed her into dust– Rose isn’t even putting up much of a fight. But in the end, Teruko will choose to be patient, and see that Rose never wanted to betray Teruko. Even if her actions wound up hurting Teruko and many others, she still deserves a second chance, or at least a second evaluation.

As you saw in the death predictions, I obviously believe that Rose has the potential to make a late game run, whether as a survivor or something else. Writing all of this out, I can see even more clearly why Rose just might be the DRDT mastermind. However, despite all that I wrote, the idea still feels kinda more like a fun AU than the actual truth to me…? So, I still think there’s one person whose chances I like slightly better.

#1: J Rosales

Whaddya know, J’s personal ??? tier catapulted her into the lead. It is probably true that my uncertainty about where she might land is contributing to me deeming her the mastermind– it’s a really weird space in the kill order, as someone who survives long enough to theoretically have a positive character arc while sometimes not being counted among the survivors at the end.

Part of why I put J this high is that I really like the theory of J being the mastermind along with her brother, Ryan. Sadly, I cannot find any of the original theories that postulated this idea to link to, so I’ll try my best to explain what I remember myself. Basically, some people found the scene in c1e4 where Rose doesn’t remember who J is suspicious. They combined this scene with J’s younger brother, Ryan, and J’s talent, the Ultimate Effects Artist, to suggest that J could be using her FX talents to disguise Ryan as herself and have them occasionally trade places. From this Q&A, one of the few things we know about Ryan is that he enjoys crossdressing, which furthers the idea that he could enjoy pretending to be J. Ryan is also (to my memory) the only DRDT character’s sibling whose name we have seen in the main text, which could indicate that he’s more important than Arei’s sisters, Levi’s brothers, or other potential siblings.

I think it’s a really fun idea that I would at the very least want to see come to fruition, regardless of how likely it is. If J was working with Ryan, you can once again repeat the argument that there’s both a mastermind for MonoTV to talk to outside the game and one to be accused within the game. The biggest issue with it is that I don’t know how Arturo wouldn’t see the differences between the two, even if Rose may have. Maybe if J and Ryan haven’t swapped since the Rosales secret got out, and won’t swap again until Arturo dies…? I don’t know, I’m getting ahead of myself.

The thing is, other than just being a unique and interesting concept, I’m not really sure what the point of having J and Ryan swap would be, in universe or out of it. (This is why I wish I could’ve found a link to the original theorist... :,( ) My best argument for in universe would be that there are some things that only J has the skill to do, her being the Ultimate Effects Artist while Ryan is not. However, they couldn’t just have Ryan be the one in the killing game full-time, because he’s too young and therefore wouldn’t have been part of the original Hope’s Peak class. Thus, there are some points in time where J needs to be working behind the scenes (like on the executions or something), and during those intervals, Ryan subs in. Metatextually, I guess it could show how every person in the entertainment industry can be cutthroat, or that every child of a celebrity is bound to get messed up about it somehow…?

Regardless, even if Ryan isn’t involved at all, there are plenty of reasons to suspect J on her own. Ultimate Effects Artist is a highly suspicious talent when it comes to the deception of a killing game (just check out how many people think J already used it to kill Arei), and in connecting her to Hollywood. J may claim to specialize in theater as opposed to television, but 1) she could have been lying, or 2) that could be true, but she’s making an exception this time. Even if she normally works in live theater, if you were a TV executive approached by the daughter of Mariabella Rosales who is also a Hope’s Peak Ultimate student in her own right, would you really turn her away…?

J’s custom weapon is also pretty suspicious. Even if it doesn’t seem to be able to trigger traps like the one used on Levi (though that could be another lie), I could still see it being pretty helpful for subtly operating MonoTV, turning on a monitor, starting an execution, or stuff like that. Charles essentially confirms that the custom weapons were in the students’ rooms since they all woke up, which means that J could have had this remote on her the entire time.

J’s relationships also seem potentially mastermind-y. Thus far, the two characters with which she’s been associated most are Arei and Arturo. Those two (at least, prior to Arei’s change of heart) have been so clearly villainous and hateful that J would obviously look like a nice person in comparison. Why is this helpful? It means that J can get away with doing more objectionable things without raising any huge red flags. If J is the mastermind, we can look back on her demolition of Arturo in the Chapter 2 Trial as a brief early glimpse into how cruel she can really be. But, for the moment, although it’s definitely memorable, many people (including myself) can react to it with a, “yeah, but based on what Arturo was doing to her, it’s kinda justified…” (Not saying it isn’t somewhat justified either way, just that it could also be something more.)

J could also have a range of motivations related to her hatred for her mom. Maybe she’s trying to turn people against the Rosales name to ruin Mariabella’s reputation. Maybe this killing game is a plan to finally have a big artistic success all on her own (or with Ryan) to prove her mom wrong. Maybe she thinks that a world so enamored with fame and glamor deserves to rot in a pit of despair. I don’t know which of these options would be the most likely, but I could see how any of them could be possible explanations for how J got to this point.

I think my biggest argument against J once again comes back to the “why”. I think that J has a lot of potential to be a good mastermind, but I don’t know if that carries over to being a good mastermind for Teruko. Unlike with Rose, I don’t have a good sense of how J being the mastermind would tie into a satisfying ending to Teruko’s trust arc.

@venus-is-thinking and I sometimes like to run randomized killing games as a fun writing exercise (randomize the cast, motives, and mastermind; see where it takes you), and we’ve generally found that the most compelling protagonist-mastermind duos either have the protagonist sharing the same worldview with the mastermind, or being the only person who believes the opposite.

If the protagonist starts with the same beliefs as the mastermind, then defeating the mastermind is a showcase of the protagonist’s development. Hajime and Izuru work as protagonist and mastermind because Izuru is the manifestation of Hajime’s belief that only talented people are important and can make an impact on the world. By renouncing Izuru, Hajime proves that he’s learned that anyone has the chance to change their future if they put in the effort. 

If the protagonist has the opposite opinions from the mastermind, then it proves how crucial the protagonist is to the narrative because they are the only one who could deliver the critical message. A great example of this is Shuichi and Tsumugi. When Tsumugi tries to set up the conflict of “hope good, despair bad” that will keep the killing games going, all of the other surviving students fall for it. Shuichi being the only character who has spent the entire game learning the importance of balancing two extremes makes his callout of Tsumugi incredibly satisfying, and justifies the protagonist swap by proving that Shuichi is the only hero who could have saved this day.

That’s why I think that J would be a great mastermind for a protagonist who has issues with family or stardom, but might not be the best choice for a story with Teruko at the helm. Those are only my observations, though, so I’d understand if DRDTdev planned things differently.

And that is finally the end! Here’s the final tierlist I wound up working off of, which I fiddled with a TON while writing:

(It’s based off of Ocean Unknown’s tierlist!)

Since this has already gone on so long, I’ll try to keep the conclusion brief. Please take all of this with a grain of salt, as I wound up making a lot of claims about writing that don’t necessarily have the strongest foundation. I didn’t write anything that I think is blatantly false, obviously, but whether it’s good advice or not doesn’t necessarily mean that DRDTdev considered it. We may have different priorities in telling a compelling story. And, we’re less than two chapters in! Even the end of the Chapter 2 trial could throw a positive or negative wrench in any of these profiles.

Thank you so much for reading through this whole thing, and if you got through it and still have anything you want me to elaborate on further (a specific character, a specific theory, a specific aspect of fangan writing, etc), I would be happy to do so. I, uh, really hope that this answered the question that Anon asked, haha. Until next time… stay wary. There could be masterminds lurking about...!

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

#JusticeForYuu

Warning: long rant coming up. Mentions of PTSD and Trauma.

So I recently read this manhwa called ‘Ashtarte’ and let me tell you, compared to other manhwas that I’ve read, I’ve never felt more vindicated or satisfied by the way it handles trauma and forgiveness.

Basically, the main character is a young princess, about ten or eleven or twelve I can’t remember, who has spent her entire life being treated like nothing by her entire family for no pretty much no reason at all. Trust me when I say that the neglect and emotional abuse she undergoes is awful and after a while, she realises that she doesn’t deserve to be treated that way. She mentally and emotionally emancipates herself from them and makes a family with her small handful of servants that live with her in her broken down house (let me tell you, they all love and protect her so much. Her mother figure/ best friend/ maid is the absolute GOAT), telling them that she won’t waste any tears on her bio family anymore. And when her bio family beg for forgiveness after she makes a very obvious effort to ignore and stay as far away from them as possible, she tells them that if they want her to even consider forgiving them for all the pain they put her through, they need to wait 10 years just like how she spent ten years all alone, trapped in that house, waiting for someone to love her. Even after the 5 year timeskip, she still doesn’t give them the time of day whilst they send her letters and mountains of gifts (that she never opens) and when she meets them again because of some obligatory family thing, she tells them point blank that there’s a chance that she’ll never forgive them and there’s nothing that she wants from them so just leave her alone and just walks out as they all suffer in their guilt.

And, let me tell you, as someone who has read a lot of female lead manhwas, I’ve never seen a FL not forgive a neglectful family - either they end up forgiven after an apology that lasts for like one chapter, or the MC gets her revenge and completely ruins them, or it’s an isekai story so now that a new person is possessing the main character, they finally decide to show interest and since the new character is either scared of them, is trying to gain their favour or has never undergone their horrible treatment of the host body, they just get off scot-free (A Match Made In Mana is a good example of this. Like the romance. Hate the fact that the older brother only started treating her right when another person isekaied into the main character - same thing with There Is No Place For Fakes)

Now what has this got to do with anime Disney boys you ask. Let me get to that.

Now I’m the kind of person that can hold a grudge - not that much in real life but very much so when it comes to fictional characters. If I was Jo March, I wouldn’t even be in the same room as Amy March after she burned the manuscript for at least a year. There are some characters that I just can’t stand because they never get the full consequences for what they put others through and I hate that so much (I’m not going to name names because a lot of them are fandom favourites and I don’t want to start a war). 

What I’m trying to say is that why can’t there be a Yuu that doesn’t forgive the overblot gang/dorms for what they put them through? Because you have to admit that they way that they treated this homeless, magicless human with absolutely nothing to their name and that is, in every instance, at the bottom of the food chain was awful. And I’m not talking about the overblots - they were clearly in the midst of a mental breakdown and weren’t in the right state of mind. But how would you explain everything that they did pre-overblot? When they are fully conscious of everything they did. Riddle even admitted after his overblot that he knew that he was being harsh but he still did that stuff anyway.

I know that we have to forgive everyone for the sake of the plot since we need Riddle in Book 2, Leona in Book 3, Azul in Book 4 and so on and so forth but when I remember the torment that Yuu faces, I just want to tell them all to take a hike. 

I know that these boys had horrible lives. I know that these are deeply traumatised individuals and that them overblotting was the only way for them to heal. But guess what? Going through trauma doesn’t excuse giving trauma to someone else? As Jake Peralta once said:

Confession Time - I was the anon that sent this: https://www.tumblr.com/shiny-jr/716948600309137408/hi-i-just-want-to-say-that-ive-read-all-of-your?source=share

And I still stand by what I said.

I just find it really annoying that when I search for angst fics it’s always the boys’ trauma or unrequited love or death or break ups - or maybe even something mentioning an overblot but I’ve never once found anything about the boys asking for forgiveness for what they did to Yuu prior to the overblots because once, just once, I want to read someone asking Yuu to forgive them and for Yuu to be selfish just once and say ‘no’

I know that I portray my fem!Yuu as this person that’s so sweet and forgiving and kind and soft and gentle but that’s because I’m obsessed with the dynamic of this sweet sunshine bubbly girl being a breath of fresh air to these villainous boys (and also because I kind of took some inspiration from my favourite princess, Snow White, and I based her a bit on Wendy Darling because I wanted her to be that ‘mature young girl’ who is very motherly but is still very much a fun-loving, imaginative child) but I just want a Yuu that is given the respect that they deserve.

I want a Yuu that actually experiences PTSD because of the treatment that they’ve undergone. I want them to hate the fact that their experience in NRC has changed them. I want them to hate that they’ve developed claustrophobia and a fear of the dark after they were forcefully imprisoned in Scarabia, I want them to hate how anything can trigger a PTSD-induced flashback, I want them to hate how Riddle’s jabs at their character and parentage still ring in their head after all this time, I want them to hate how whenever they’re submerged in water, all they can remember is what Azul, Jade and Floyd put them through in their attempts to get their home and family back. I want them to hate how often they get nightmares, how any second could be the day they finally get killed by any of these magic users who are far more powerful than them. I want them to look in the mirror and despise every single scar that litters their once unblemished body. I want them to hate how they had to ask the people who stripped them of their home and the only family they had in NRC for help in Book 4 because now they are indebted to them and they have no idea when Azul would want to cash that.

I’ve seen fics that have Yuu go through heatstroke during the marches in Scarabia and, as someone that not only has had heatstroke before but also had a really scary fainting experience I headcanon that as well so how about a Yuu that turns down Kalim’s invitations because the sight of Scarabia reminds them of the hostility that they faced when they were the most vulnerable. How about a Yuu that tries not to hate Kalim because he’s a genuinely nice person and was the only one to welcome them with kindness but can’t help but feel bitter whenever they hear the housewarden excuse Jamil’s behaviour when they still remember how they were locked up against their will.

This fic by linawritestwst and this fic by the-hearteater portray what I’m talking about really well. (taxonomize our differences by Jemimimi does a really good job of illustrating how being in Twised Wonderland affects Yuu’s mental health - there’s an incredible scene where Yuu has a panic attack and teaches Grim how to help them out of it. I nearly cried because their sense of self worth is so low and suicidal tendencies are so unstable that in multiple points of the story they try to get other students to kill them and Yuu my baby 😭)

When I go through the Rollo x reader fics, the majority of them are either yandere or the usual fluff. But Rollo can actually be a good friend for Yuu to have. Whilst their mentalities are different, they both agree that magic is dangerous - with Yuu being a victim of said magic. I honestly think that, if he wasn’t written as the big bad of the event, he could’ve been a really good ally that would understand Yuu’s pain of not only facing overblot after overblot but their helplessness of being surrounded by magical individuals and not knowing whether they’ll be able to survive another day.

Everyone’s always like #Crowley Slander (which he rightfully deserves, I am thisclose to punting him) but don’t forget everything the boys did. I see fics where they stand up to Crowley for Yuu but the most they do is reference the overblots but never that they did horrible things as well. Crowley may have told Yuu to stay behind during the winter holidays but Jamil was the one who imprisoned us and prevented us from contacting our friends for help. Crowley may have made Yuu stay at Ramshackle (although to be fair Ramshackle is kind of the safest option - who knows what would happen to Yuu if their magical self was in an actual dorm, especially all of the female Yuus. I think living in isolation is kind of the best option for them when the universe is out to get them. Plus, the ghosts are amazing company.) but Azul was the one who made us homeless and had a shady business (that he still has even after the overblot). Crowley may have been blackmailing Yuu with food, shelter and money but Leona was the one that was sabotaging the students and Vil was the one that tried to point blank kill an innocent child in cold blood after making his childhood trauma and personal one-sided rivalry everyone’s problem for the weeks leading up to the VDC.

Everyone only treated them with respect after the overblot incidents - so they literally had to put themselves in danger and nearly die for them to be treated as not a nobody. When Riddle made those completely uncalled for jabs at Yuu, an innocent bystander, nobody said or did anything. Not Trey, who enabled Riddle’s reign of terror and quietly observed the suffering all of the Heartslabyul students (and then had the gall to tell adeuceyuu not to get angry at Riddle because of course tragic backstory = forgiveness), not Cater, who canonically has a hidden side so Yuu has more of a reason not to trust him, not any of the other card soldiers - no Ace, the one everyone writes off as a stupid tactless jerk that does badly in school and only causes trouble, was the only one that had the emotional intelligence to realise that Yuu’s feelings were hurt and was the only one who cared to do something about it via sucker punching the tantrum-throwing tyrant.

(I can’t remember if Deuce did anything but he already stood up for us during the egg debacle so it’s okay he’s still my number one love)

(Also: Riddle is known to be incredibly strict with his dorm. It’s been said that Heartslabyul has the best academic record because of Riddle’s incredibly high standards. He also doesn’t take excuses from anyone even if they aren’t even in the wrong - which is seen when he exiles adeuceyuu from the dorm during the Mont Blanc Tart Incident where Trey tells Riddle that he was the one who told them to make the tart for the party and Riddle says that it was still their fault for not knowing the rules beforehand because of course a first year would have memorised all 810 rules by their like third day and it would be perfectly normal of them to ask a senior for advice on what to do. My question is: how many dyslexic students or anyone else with learning disabilities do you think Riddle has sent crying? How many students with less than stellar family backgrounds joined NRC only to find that they were sorted into a dorm that had a leader who not only holds their abusive mother’s teaching methods on a pedestal but is more than ready to hurl insults at anyone that disagrees with him? How many times had Trey seen an innocent student receive unfair treatment and kept quiet about it despite it being his job as a vice dorm leader and upperclassman to look after them?)

I know that so many people want Yuu to overblot or go through their villain arc so that the boys can be put in that place but why do we even have to go that far? If Yuu did have magic they would have overblotted ages ago but even so why do they need to have a mental breakdown so that others could see where they went wrong? Remember an overblot can kill its host and Yuu doesn’t need another near death experience. 

I want Yuu to be like Ashtarte and just have a small circle of friends and family in Ace, Deuce, Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts and tell everyone else to bog off. I want Ace, Deuce and Grim to be like the maid, Leona/Loena - different translations have different spellings (she is such a protective mama bear I love her so much. She literally calls out royalty to their faces, is ready to throw hands with the entire world and is willing to risk her own life for Ashtarte’s happiness) and act as Yuu’s guard dogs to prevent anyone from coming near them. Ace, Deuce and Grim have been there since the beginning, they’re Yuu’s ride or die besties that know what they’re going through, they’re platonic soulmates who can clearly see the emotional turmoil on weighing down on them. I want them to witness how Yuu is affected by their PTSD with their panic attacks and nightmares and bouts of depression and dissociation and then doing their best to learn how to help them. I want Yuu to refuse to step foot in another dorm and just go to NRC for classes and then disappear into Ramshackle. I want Ace and Deuce to run interference in case anyone approaches their friend because can’t you see that they don’t want to talk to you, who’s not afraid to stand up to anyone be it teachers or upperclassmen because haven’t they done enough damage. 

Yes, Ace is a jerk but he’s not a mean bully of a jerk. He’s just a stupid tactless teenage boy who just needs to be humbled once or twice - he’s completely harmless unlike Sebek and his humanphobic bigoted butt who should definitely keep his comments to himself because Yuu already has enough troubles without someone reminding them of how inferior their species is.

I want these boys to feel guilt - not because of their overblots but because they were actually horrible people before they tried to kill a defenseless, magicless human. I want Yuu to not only lose trust in the main characters but also with everyone else because they never know who would hurt or betray them next - who would be like Trey or Rook and enable bad behaviour, or who would be like Azul and take advantage of their weaknesses, or who would be like Jamil and pretend to be their friend and then stab them in the back. I want a Yuu that’s tired of being manipulated and used by everyone and is just done with everything.

As much as I love parental!Staff, you have to admit that canonically, they’ve done a pretty bad job of looking after Yuu so how about a Yuu that doesn’t trust adults because they’ve shown no interest in actually being someone that Yuu can open up to. Also, Azul was able to get away with everything he did was because he had Crowley in his pocket - who’s to say that he doesn’t have other adults under his thumb as well? (We know he doesn’t but how can Yuu be sure)

I want Yuu to be friends with Neige because he seems like such a sweetheart and I really don’t like how I see fics putting him down just to make Vil look good. As I mentioned above, Snow White is my favourite Disney Princess and sharing a spot with Pooh Bear as my favourite Disney character so a darling boy that is inspired by her would be an awesome friend to have - and he has never caused Yuu physical, verbal, emotional or mental harm.

Don’t get me wrong. I know that this is making me come off as a hater but I just want some justice for Yuu. They deserve absolutely nothing that they go through and I want happiness for them.

Also, on a completely unrelated note, I may have been listening to Numb Little Bug a tad bit too much.

[delayedstrawberry]

Mihawks' Echos Of Regret

Summary: 25 year old Dracule Mihawk and you broke up two months ago, and since then you’ve kept out of each other's way. That’s until Mihawk goes to a party, and sees you cozying up with a man he doesn’t know. So to deal with the situation he drinks a little too much and lets his emotional possessive feelings take over, even though the breakup was his fault.

Fandom: One Piece

Relationships: Mihawk x Reader, Mihawk x Female OC

Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Female Reader, Shanks, Trafalgar Law, Boa Hancock and Nico Robin.

Chapters: 2/3

Warnings: Physical/verbal Abuse, anxiety and heavy alcohol usage

Notes: Hello♡ Just to clarify things before you read, this AU is set 20 years in the past where everyone who’s old/older in the current One Piece is now younger. So Mihawk is 24, Crocodile is 26 and Doflamingo is 21 etc etc. Although there are a few characters I have changed entirely to fit the story, like Robin is 23 and Law is 25. I posted this Fanfic on my AO3 as well (DelayedStrawberry). I made Mihawk super possessive and angsty in this, so I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3 will be added in the next few weeks!

Word count: 10,364

Chapter 1: Mihawks Possesive Grip

Dracule Mihawk had been dreadful for the last 6 months of your relationship, it felt like those 4 years together just went down the drain without any explanation. He had suddenly stopped giving you attention, there was no more communication, no kisses or hugs, he barely talked to you anymore, he frequently became angry for no real reason and cuddles were non-existent. The main problem was that he’d be out working longer and more often, so you’d end up spending hours upon hours at home alone, while he was out hunting marines. It was like a switch had flipped inside of him and you had no idea why. He used to be this sweet, caring and loving boyfriend, then he became this heartless jerk. For months you had begged Mihawk to tell you what’s wrong, cried for hours at his feet to at least hold your hand, but he’d always brush you off. So…one night when he had come home from work, you told him you’re leaving. All hell broke loose once you uttered those words. And for the next few hours there was yelling, screaming, tears and hateful insults thrown around like spit fire. You could see how angry he was through your own heavy tears and blurry vision, especially when he ended up demanding that you don’t leave. But it was too late, the damage was done, you had endured too much pain. As you left the house you once shared, he yelled at you at the top of his lungs, but you could barely hear him over your own grieving sobs. It was the ugliest and messiest breakup of your life, that’s for sure.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

It’s a dark night in a town located within the Grand Line, the only things heard are the footsteps of Shanks, Mihawk and the party down the road. The moon casts a dim light on them as they walk towards the chaos, illuminating the damp pathway ahead of them. Shanks seems to be in a pretty chipper mood tonight, thinking about all the different women he’ll get to meet and “hangout” with. Mihawk on the other hand, is in quite the emotional state, his mind is occupied with one thing only…you. His footsteps are heavy and slow, a hint of distress hidden within his blank expression. He feels a lot of anger, but at this point he’s not sure who at.

“Lighten up Hawkeyes, it's gonna be fun!” Shanks swings his arm around Mihawk’s shoulder, squeezing his bicep. “You don’t have to be so grumpy.”

Mihawk just grunts quietly, not feeling in the mood for a party or Shanks’s enthusiasm. “I still fail to see why you insisted I join you.” He speaks in his usual dry annoyed tone.

Shanks grins, releasing Mihawk from his grip and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You need to do something other than work, and you never know…maybe you’ll have a great time.”

“You just need a babysitter once you get too drunk, that’ll really be a great time.” Mihawk sighs, giving Shanks a sidelong glare.

“Aww come on, your pal Crocodile will be there.” Shanks muses, the sound of music and people laughing getting louder and louder the closer they get.

“I don’t like his presence.” Mihawk responds flatley, his eyes wandering to the house parties' front lawn, where some people have already passed out.

Shanks gives Mihawk a punch in the arm and laughs. “You’ll be fine, at least promise me to have a few drinks, for relaxation purposes.”

Mihawk grunts again. “Fine.”

Shanks pats him on the back with a lot of force, making Mihawk groan in annoyance. “That’s a good Hawky.”

As they finally reach the house, the boys start walking up the driveway towards the front entrance, passing by some people on the way up. Mihawk starts feeling a little paranoid, thinking everyones eyes are on him. It’s really freaking him out, since he’d rather not be on anyone's radar right now.

They start strolling up the polished steps to the door, Shanks practically skipping up them. On the other hand, Mihawk reluctantly walks up the stairs, taking one step at a time, trying to drag out this moment for as long as possible.

“Stop hitting me, it’s irritating. And don’t call me Hawky.” Mihawk grumbles, his hand massaging where Shanks had struck him.

Shanks just grins and eagerly pushes the door open. The first thing that hits is the sound of laughter, loud thumping music and talking all mixed together like some sort of hell, at least according to Mihawk. There have got to be at least hundreds of alcohol bottles scattered around the place, and the coloured lighting is so damn bright, it bounces off the walls like someone on crack. And as they step inside, the house seems to expand, revealing a labyrinth of different rooms filled with drunk young adults. Every room seems to have a purpose for the night, each with its own unique vibe. One room has people playing pool, another dedicated to dancing, a few spaces for chilling out and the backyard is lined with tables which harbor mountains of food. Shanks spots the host, this girl named Boa Hancock, and he casually brings up his hand to say hi.

After taking this all in, Mihawk takes a step back, this is all so overwhelming…too overwhelming. He knew he shouldn't have come, he hates parties, noise and mayhem being his worst nightmare. But before he knows it, Shanks is guiding him through the pool of people, heading towards the alcohol at the back of the room.

As they reach the alcohol table, Shanks picks up a bottle of Vodka to inspect, while Mihawk tries to keep calm as he looks around.

After a few moments, Shanks hands him half a cup of booze, a smirk on his face. “Here, drink.” Mihawk looks down at the cup and sighs, knowing he can’t turn back now, and downs the whole thing in one gulp.

Shanks chuckles, pouring himself some alcohol, filling it to the brim before chugging it all down and filling it up again.

Mihawk looks at him, his eyes narrowing. “Careful, Redhair.”

He grins, downing the liquid whilst looking at Mihawk with a smug look. After swallowing, he fills his cup once more. “You think too much.”

“You hold your liquor like a leaf holds water.” Mihawk sighs, putting his cup down on the table and crossing his arms.

Shanks laughs, bringing the cup up to his lips again. “I handle my liquor just fine!”

“Do you want me to remind you of last time?” Mihawk glares at him.

“No no, let’s not bring that up. My stomachs stronger now, I promise.” Shanks smiles, looking over his cup, while Mihawk just rolls his eyes.

As they stand there for a moment, taking in the electric atmosphere, a few girls at the other side of the room seem to be looking Shanks over. They’re giggling lightly between themselves and sharing looks. His face switches to more of a thoughtful expression as he notices them, his eyes wandering over their frames, a hum leaving his lips. “Alright, Hawky. I’ll talk to you later.” Then without another word, he pats Mihawk on the shoulder and starts to walk off towards the women.

Mihawk sighs, his attention going to the rest of the room, his mind wandering slightly. Why does Shanks have to think with his dick all the time? Can’t he relax for once, maybe hangout with the person he dragged along…Mihawk shakes his head, pushing the thought away. It’s worthless mulling this over, it’s Redhair, he’s a lost cause at this point.

Some time passes and Mihawk finds himself standing against the wall, his eyes fixed on the floor. He doesn’t particularly have anything else to do, or anyone else to talk to, especially since Shanks walked off a while ago. He doesn’t mind having no company. The vodka doesn’t seem to be affecting him much, his thoughts still clear and legs still steady. With no buzz to take the edge off, his mind fills with thoughts of self hatred and stress. His inside turmoil is a stark difference to the moods of everyone around him. The party goers are all carefree, laughing, dancing, the atmosphere a drunken mess. Even though none of their attention is on him, he still feels as if everyones watching him, judging him. He softly sighs as he takes his hat off and puts it in front of his face, running his slender fingers through his dark hair, trying not to have a panic attack or a mental breakdown…or maybe both at the same time.

“I just need to pull myself together, it’s fine, I’m fine…” He quietly mutters to himself, a lump forming in his throat which he swallows down. He inhales deeply, trying to keep his composure together, sensing he’s on the verge of falling apart. After a few moments of calming himself down, he takes one last deep shaky breath. Putting his hat down from his face, Mihawk looks around at the party. His eyes land on Shanks who’s in a corner of a different room, heavily making out with a blonde girl, his hands running up and down her body as he squeezes different parts of her. Mihawk feels a twinge of jealousy, which is a foreign feeling, especially when it comes to Redhair. Why can’t he have it that easy? Why can’t he just…not be himself sometimes. Life would be way easier if he could be more like Shanks, maybe he could even be happier, more content. Mihawk doesn’t even understand WHY he’s feeling this way. He feels a little desperation running through him the longer he thinks about it, his eyes darting to the vodka on the table. He groans internally, knowing it may not be the best idea, but he decides to go ahead anyway.

He makes his way back over to the drinks, picking up a large cup and filling it. And he thinks it over for a moment, but only for a moment, since the next thing he feels is the burn of alcohol running down his throat and settling in his stomach. He can’t help but close his eyes, the amount of alcohol in his body feeling foreign. After getting used to the feeling, he opens his eyes again, pouring more liquid into his cup.

When he’s finished, he puts the bottle down back on the table, his hand slightly shaking. Maybe he could pick up some girls tonight, forget about you. His eyes then flicker back to Shanks, the thought growing stronger. But no, he would miserably fail, and the thought of being with another woman makes him feel sick. So instead of going ahead with his plans he decides he’ll switch rooms, a room where he can’t see Redhair, feeling his jealousy rising higher the longer he can see them.

Keeping a hold of his cup, he starts walking through the large house, getting bumped into multiple times, a growl forming in his throat.

Mihawk decided to settle into one of the dance rooms, figuring he’ll be out of the way, and blend easily in with the background despite his height. His back rests against the wall, the cup still in hand as he lazily looks over the crowd, maybe this wall will be different from the last.

For the next few minutes Mihawk stands there slowly drinking his vodka, the people in front of him not seeming to notice he’s there, which feels like a relief. Thankfully the loud hum of people and music drowns out most of his anxious thoughts, for now. He honestly just wants to get out of here, but Shanks would be on his ass for the next few weeks if he goes home early, leaving him with no choice but to endure these torturous hours.

Mihawks’ mind grows a little bored as he finishes his drink, setting his cup down on the nearby table, finally feeling a bit tipsy. The people around him are still dancing, making out, drinking…So for now he’ll just stand here counting the amount of dust particles that fly past his face. But after a few moments of counting he fixates his vision on something, someone, in the crowd. You.

His eyes widen, and it feels like the noise around him disappears. Your memories together come rushing back like a heavy wave…when you’d look at him like he was the only man on Earth, your giggles when he poked your stomach, the way your hair felt between his fingers. And you’re just as beautiful as he remembers. He feels like he’s gonna throw up, not just because of the alcohol he drank, but because you’re sitting and smiling on a couch with another man. Another man who isn’t him. He swallows, not knowing what to do as his hands bawl up into fists at his sides. He studies the man you’re talking to…black hair, tall and slim, tattoos, piercings and unfortunately very attractive. He doesn’t recognize him, at least not at first, not at this angle.

He feels anger running through his veins, how dare he talk to you, how dare he even share a smile with you! His heartbeat quickens as he keeps watching. He can see you’re comfortable with this man, your face lighting up when he whispers in your ear, playfully swatting each other's arms. Mihawk can’t look away, his face growing slightly hot from the sheer amount of possessiveness and jealousy. But after a few minutes of staring daggers into you and the man, he finally tears his gaze away. He begins to scan his surroundings, trying to find anything to distract himself with. He spots a half empty bottle of gin on an end table nearby, and without thinking he grabs it, drinking the rest. He takes a deep breath when he finishes swallowing, slamming the now empty bottle back onto the table. Mihawks’ eyes dart around the other surfaces, to see if there’s any more alcohol nearby. There isn’t. So he strides to the next room over, the kitchen, knowing that’s where he can get some more.

Mihawk finds himself frantically drinking 3 more bottles, not even taking note of what they are because he simply doesn’t care right now. The need to get the images out of his head is urgent, wanting to push his thoughts away as fast as he can. But after putting the 3rd bottle down, it just makes him feel worse. His mind begins spinning and he rests on the kitchen counter, mulling over the options he has right now.

After pondering for a while, he knows what he’ll do. There’s still a lot of full bottles around him, so he grabs a whiskey bottle and brings it with him as he walks back through the rooms.

Mihawks’ decided to keep an eye on you, hoping you won’t see him. When he gets back to the place he saw you last, you aren’t there anymore. His eyes frantically scan the other rooms, hoping you didn’t go upstairs with that dickhead. But he thankfully spots you leaning against the wall with the stranger. His blood boiling again, he moves to a spot where he can watch you. Sitting down at a table, he glares at the both of you. Mihawk doesn’t know what he’d do if you saw him right now, but he’s too drunk to really care about that.

Mihawk sits there watching you from a distance, the man's hand caressing your arm, leaning in to talk in your ear. You ignore the people dancing and drinking around as you listen. And for the life of him, he can’t figure out who that boy is! It’s driving him insane not knowing what's going on between you two, and the fact that you’re so close. It takes all of his self restraint to not get up and rip you away from him, or better yet, rip that boy to shreds.

Two blazing yellow hawkeyes are fixed on every move the two of you make, he can’t stand seeing you with someone else, but he can’t do anything about it. You’re broken up, but it’s killing him, his heart feels like it’s being passed through a blender over and over again. He takes a big gulp of whiskey, not even feeling the burn anymore.

Thankfully, right where he’s sitting, he’s got a better angle on what the boy looks like, feeling like he knows him, or knows OF him. Mihawk turns the question around in his head, looking over his features and inspecting his tattoos intently. And that’s when it clicks. He knows who you’re talking to. Trafalgar Law. There have been a few recent newspaper headings about Law, he’s this new hotshot running around the ocean, causing trouble and seemingly very talented. Mihawks’ vision goes red, tensing his jaw, he can’t believe you’re cozying up with some idiot! You’re not Laws, you’re HIS. No one should be touching you but HIM. No one should even LOOK at you! He takes a swig of the whiskey to try and calm down, and then another, and then another, and then another…until it’s all gone within a few short minutes. He growls deep within his throat when he realizes there’s no more alcohol, and the sight of Law and you together makes him angrier by the second. His mind starts going hazy from the amount of poison in his system.

Mihawk's attention is drawn to Shanks walking down the stairs, hand in hand with the blonde from earlier, making him more furious. He grunts under his breath, watching as Redhair and the girl walk into another room together, to presumably get something to drink.

But his attention doesn’t stay on them, instead his head snaps back to you and Law. Trained on every facial expression, movement, and straining his ears to try and hear what you’re saying. It’s no use, you’re too far away and the party’s too loud.

Just when he thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Law takes your waist and presses your bodies up against each other, a grin on his face as you giggle and begin swaying to the music together. This is the final straw for Mihawk, seeing your bodies against each other makes his jealousy turn into pure rage. He squeezes the empty whiskey bottle in his hand, the glass groaning and cracking slightly. The control he had earlier cracks along with the glass, shattering in every direction. The sight is driving him mad, Law shouldn’t have his hands anywhere near you in the first place. You’re his. HIS. Mihawks’ body tenses, he wants to pull you away from each other, but on the other hand he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

Law looks you in the eyes, and as Mihawk observes his rage only heightens. He knows what that sort of look means. And that’s it. He can’t take it anymore. The alcohol in his system is making him unpredictable and reckless.

He hastily rises up from his seat and begins walking through the crowd. As he makes his way to you, he pushes people out of the way to get to you faster, not wanting to waste anymore time.

Finally, he reaches you. “Y/n.” Mihawks’ voice comes out demanding and angry.

You jump slightly, your eyes widening as you see Mihawk standing beside you, Law raising his eyebrows. “Mihawk??” You stammer.

“We need to talk, now.” He glares at you, making you a little nervous. Law tightens his arm around you, feeling like something's off but overall very confused, and stays out of it.

“W-what??” You feel like your heart is going to combust right here, right now. You haven’t seen him since you’ve broken up, the pain of looking at his face and hearing his voice a little too much.

Mihawk gives out a low growl. “We need to talk, right now, ALONE.”

He leaves nothing for discussion, so you look up at Law apologetically before answering in a firm tone. “Fine.”

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Before you can protest, Mihawk takes your wrist and drags you to the backyard, finding a spot behind some bushes where the two of you can’t be seen. The party is still present in the background but not as loud. You can tell he’s drunk, like you are too, his eyes look hazy and disoriented, but he was never a heavy drinker so you figure it’s not that bad.

He lets go of your wrist and faces you, a dark look in his eyes.

“What the hell is your-”

Mihawk cuts you off. “What were you doing with that guy??” He blurts out, staring daggers into you.

You feel slightly taken aback, not expecting his question. “That’s none of your business, can I go back now?”

“No. Not until we talk.” He crosses his arms, so you cross yours too.

“About what exactly?” You ask sternly, a little nervous.

Mihawk growls, making you tense up slightly. “About you…being so close with that guy! You think I’d just allow that to happen??”

“Wha…what the fuck??” You furrow your brow, feeling a little confused and annoyed.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’? You seriously thought I’d be okay with you doing that?” He raises his voice.

“Drac-” You stop yourself, nearly calling him by his first name. “Mihawk…we’re broken up. You don’t have a say in this.”

You can see Mihawk's brain short circuiting when his name nearly spills from your lips. “I don’t care if we’re broken up.”

“You’re deluded.” You bring your hand up to rub your temple, you can tell this is going to be a difficult conversation.

He scoffs. “I’m not deluded, he just shouldn’t touch you, simple.”

“For the last months of our relationship you didn’t put your hands on me once, so why do you suddenly care if Law does?” You say angrily, thinking that this conversation is useless.

Mihawk visibly stiffens when you say that. “God, you’re still hung up about that? Get over yourself! I had my reasons. And it doesn’t change anything, you can’t be cozying up with another man.”

“Yeah ‘I had my reasons’, that’s what you kept fucking telling me. You have no right to tell me what to do.” You spit back, feeling a dagger through your heart at his familiar harsh and dismissive words.

Mihawk steps closer, his eyes flashing angrily as he towers over you, his voice harsh. “The hell I don’t. You’re mine, y/n. Your body is mine, and so is your attention.”

You start feeling a bit panicked, but that quickly makes way for anger when it sinks in what he just said to you. “EXCUSE me? MY body is yours? MY attention is YOURS???”

“Yeah, you heard me. I put too much effort into you for some lanky nobody to take you away from me.” He responds firmly, furrowing his brows.

“But I’m not yours, Mihawk. I broke up with you and you know it. So stop pretending like I’m doing something I shouldn’t.” You start getting impatient.

This just makes him angrier. “You’ve been mine for years, some breakup isn’t gonna change that fact. I’ve claimed you.”

You’re speechless, looking at Mihawk in bewilderment.

“See, you can’t even deny it.” He glares down at you.

“Well-...what do you mean you’ve claimed me? What are you talking about??” You can’t help but want him to elaborate, but you have a feeling you won’t like the answer.

“Because I’ve fucked you.” Mihawk says firmly, his eyes not leaving yours.

Now you’re really speechless, this man has gone insane, and he looks serious about this too. It chills you, your fight or flight kicking in. You step back from him and try to walk away, but you gasp, feeling his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“No.” He says, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Mihawks’ eyes are dark and dangerous, leaving you no choice but to get pulled back to stand in front of him, the hold on your wrist unwavering.

You try to keep your composure, trying to come up with the most logical thing to say back to him, despite your mind being slightly hazy from alcohol. “Listen to me, I’m not yours, and fucking me doesn’t mean you’ve claimed me.”

“You ARE mine. No one, except for me, has the right to be so close to you.” He spits out.

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you pushed me away!” You respond angrily.

Mihawks’ grip on you tightens. “We’ve been through too much. I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me.”

“Too bad, this is YOUR fault. Now let me go, I want to enjoy the rest of the party in peace.” You keep your eyes firmly on his, not backing down.

“No. I…I can’t let you spend time with another man, especially not Law.” He responds, clearly not wanting to back down either.

“What’s wrong with Law, huh? Is it because he’s a better man than you’ll ever be?” You ask, the words feeling foreign and wrong.

“It’s because…he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a rookie and a fool!”

“You don’t know anything about him!” You yell in disbelief.

“I know enough.” He states firmly.

“Well…I’m not yours anymore, so get over it.” Your own words feel like a punch to the gut.

Mihawk clenches his jaw, not liking your words either. “No, y/n.”

You’re getting a little frustrated at his constant ‘no’ answers at this point. “Why can’t you just let me have a nice night with someone? It’s the least you could do.”

“Because you’re mine, y/n. I…I can’t handle the thought of you being with someone else, I saw enough while we were inside.” He responds a little quieter, but anger seeps through his words like daggers ready to strike you.

“Well that’s your damn issue!” You say angrily, getting sick of him.

Mihawks’ eyes flash with anger again, the grip on your wrist unrelenting. “My issue? Do you seriously think this is just MY issue?? I will never be okay with you running off with someone else when I’M the one who put in the work to keep you. I invested years of my life on you, I poured my heart and soul into your every damn breath!”

“Yeah, you did. But then you PUSHED ME AWAY!” As you say this your voice rises, and you try to pull away from him, but it’s no use.

“As I said, y/n. I have my reasons.”

“Uh huh, ‘I have my reasons, I have my reasons’. Blah blah blah, all I hear from you is bullshit because you’ve never GIVEN me any of these mysterious reasons!” You bark back at him, your blood boiling.

The hold he has on your wrist gets stronger, making you quietly groan in pain. “You…you wouldn’t understand.” Mihawk responds in a rough and angry tone.

“You keep saying that…” You say in a defeated voice as you keep looking into his eyes, the man you once loved completely gone.

“I mean it, it’s just…complicated.” He says, frustration clear on his face.

“Whatever asshole, let go of me.” You can’t help insulting him, even though it feels like a knife through your chest.

“As I already said, I can’t let go. I won’t let you ‘have fun’ with someone who isn’t me. But you don’t listen, do you? Typical.”

“Don’t you dare tell me I never listen! You KNOW I do, I was the one person who always listened to you! Why do you have to be like this?” You say a little pleadingly, getting increasingly uncomfortable with the pain.

“You clearly aren’t listening to me, you are MINE.” He says in a dark tone.

This situation is internally freaking you out, he looks like he’ll snap you in half or throw you into his basement. The parties too loud for anyone to hear your fight, plus no one can see you, meaning you need to get out of this all by yourself.

“I’m not yours. We’re broken up! How many times do I have to repeat that? I feel like I’m going crazy. I can hangout with whoever I want, even Law.” You yell at him, feeling like his hand is gonna leave a mark.

“So, what is he to you then? A boyfriend? A lover?? I swear if he’s seen you without your clothes I’ll-”

“Okay, enough. I don’t have to answer that.”

“Yes you do, tell me. Now.” Mihawk leans his face a bit forward towards yours, so close you can smell the strong alcohol on his breath.

“He’s not my boyfriend, happy?” You say in a growl.

“No.” He glares at you, and you know exactly what question he wants answered.

“Fine…we aren’t lovers. Now let me go.” You say darkly as he leans back out from you.

“I’ll never let you go again, I’m not letting a man take what’s mine, I claimed you a long time ago.” His voice low, but there’s a hint of satisfaction after finding out you haven’t slept together.

Your voice comes out harsh and angry. “Don’t start with me again, you don’t ‘claim’ someone. Do you realize how deranged you sound?”

“I spent years caring for you, fucking you and giving you my heart. Nothing will ever change that, not even breaking up, no matter how much you protest or tell me otherwise. ” Mihawk ignores your question.

“All that doesn’t mean shit when you’re the one who poured it all down the drain like it was nothing.” You spit back, feeling like you’re gonna cry from the mention of it all.

“It doesn’t mean shit huh? Well, it does. You’re MY woman.” He says firmly.

“I am NOT your woman! And you know exactly what led to that fact. Now LET GO, and let me get back to the party.” Your voice raising again, desperate to get out of this, deep fear growing in your stomach.

“The only way you’re going back to the party is if you’re going with ME.”

Before you can respond, the intense feeling of his tightening grip grows, so you let out a whimper of pain. “I’m not going to the party with you. I’m here with my friends, people who actually care for me.”

“From now on, I won’t let you out of my sight for a moment. You’re staying by my side, and then we’re going back to our house where you belong.” Mihawks’ response is rough and final.

Dread washes over you, he looks and sounds really serious about that, which is horrifying.

“You’re delusional! Do you really think I’d spend the rest of my night with you, then go back to a house I don’t even live in anymore?” You shout erratically.

“You don’t have a choice, you’re coming home with me tonight. And I will NEVER let you go again.” He growls at you, getting in your face.

Tears sting your eyes from the pain, frustration and fright. You can’t help but speak to him in a frustrated tone. “To hell I’m going home with you! Last I heard you don’t even live there anymore either, you’re living with Shanks!”

“I still own the house. I just…didn’t want to stay there for a while. So stop fighting me, I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

“You’re insane!” You yell angrily, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Maybe I am insane, but I couldn’t care less. You belong to ME, y/n.” Mihawk jerks your arm forcefully making you fall forward into his chest. His hand unwavering as you try to free your arm to move away.

You feel a searing pain in your wrist from how hard he’s holding you, and you whimper out. “OW OW OW Mihawk you’re hurting me!”

He scoffs. “I don’t care if I’m hurting you.”

Those words feel like a stab to the heart.

“You’re mine and you’re coming home with me, end of discussion. You can struggle with your weak pathetic little arms of yours but there’s no use, you're not getting away from me.” Mihawks’ voice is cold, his insults breaking your heart into more pieces.

You feel an overwhelming sense of panic, pain and hurt, as you struggle to get your wrist out of his grasp. “You don’t care that you’re hurting me? You’re gonna leave a damn bruise!”

“I don’t care if I leave a bruise, that just means my mark will be on your skin, telling everyone who you belong to.” He responds darkly.

Tears begin rolling down your cheeks, the pain of your wrist growing, and the terror you feel overwhelming. “Just leave me the hell alone!” You whimper out desperately.

“Stop resisting me, you’re mine and you’re coming home with me. That’s FINAL” Mihawk barks out, his eyes glancing over your tears.

“No, no! It’s not final, please just let me go. Don’t you understand? I barely felt welcome in ‘our home’ when we WERE together!” More tears running down your cheeks, but your pleading only furthering his hold on you.

“Again, that doesn’t matter. I’ll die before I let you be with another man.” He yells at you harshly, you whimper again as your pleads land on deaf ears.

You begin crying a little harder, groaning louder, the pain so intense and constant.

“Stop resisting me. You can struggle and cry all you like, y/n, but you’re coming home with me and I’ll show you I’m the only man for you.” He says darkly, but his voice is laced with slight guilt as you cry harder. Mihawk never liked it when you cried.

“OW! Y-you’re not the one for me, you treated me like I was worthless!” You sob, your knees starting to feel a little weak.

“Oh, shut up. I didn’t treat you like that. I just had a lot going on, I never stopped loving you.” He yells harshly, his voice slightly desperate.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you acted like you didn’t love me, you can’t just say you had a lot going on!” You plead.

Mihawk’s grip on your wrist is only growing fiercer, his eyes dark and wild as you plead and cry. “I do love you, I always have and I always will. You belong in our house where I can keep you safe.”

“Please let go…it hurts…it hurts so much…” Your sobs sounding weak.

“I can’t…I know I was a shitty boyfriend, but you still belong with me. Why can’t you see that?” This time his voice is laced with anguish and stress, the darkness in his eyes lessening ever so slightly.

“No, no…no…please let me go…it hurts so badly…” You plead through your sobs.

“I know I’m hurting you, but I can’t handle the thought of you being with another man. It’s MY job to make sure you’re safe and happy.” Mihawk mutters.

“No…you’re the one who made me UNHAPPY for MONTHS! So let me go.” You whimper in pain.

He doesn’t release you, instead his face twists in guilt. “I can’t…I promise I’ll make you happy, you just have to come home with me, that’s all you have to do. Please…calm down y/n.” His voice softens as he begs.

You sob even harder, knowing nothing would get resolved. “You won’t make me happy! I begged with you for months to tell me what’s wrong, and I tried everything to make you feel loved. But I got nothing in return! Even now, you won’t tell me what happened.”

Mihawks’ frustration rises again, speaking harshly, his voice ragged. “I’ll make up for it.”

“You’ll make up for it? Then what the hell is THIS? You truly don’t care about me, do you? If you cared for me you’d let me have a nice night, but instead you’re inflicting pain on me. Let go!” You sob.

“I can’t…don’t you understand? I’ll do anything to keep you…I promise I’ll take care of you. I’m sorry it hurts…” Mihawk responds roughly, searching your eyes.

You feel intense anger rising up again, but you still sob uncontrollably. “Don’t give me those lies! You won’t take care of me! Did you take care of me while I was crying beside you in bed? Did you take care of me when I was crying and pleading for you to tell me what’s wrong? Did you take care of me when I got really sick and you continued to ignore me? Did you take care of me when I had a rough day and I was crying on the couch? NO!!! I PRACTICALLY SPENT 6 MONTHS ALONE, DESPITE MY BOYFRIEND BEING IN THE HOUSE. BUT YOU ACTED LIKE I WASN’T THERE AND TREATED ME LIKE A CONSTANT NUISANCE!”

He tenses up. “I’m sorr-”

“DON’T! DON’T YOU DARE SAY SORRY YOU BASTARD!” You yell at him through heavy sobs.

“...but you belong with me.” He responds in a ragged whisper.

“I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE EVER AGAIN.” You scream.

“Don’t say that…you don’t mean that.” He whispers, his face grief stricken.

“YOU’RE A COLD, STOIC AND HEARTLESS MONSTER!” You say at the top of your lungs, still crying.

“Please…I love you…” He breathes out raggedly, sounding sincere as he pleads, the grip on your wrist finally loosening slightly.

“No…you don’t! Let me go…please…it hurts…it hurts Mihawk please…” You sob and plead, at this point you’re beyond terrified.

“I don’t know how…” He whispers sadly.

“Then I have no choice…” You sob, while Mihawk furrows his brow in confusion.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swinging your leg back to get some force going, and kick him in the nuts.

He gasps in pain and immediately lets go of your wrist, his whole body doubling over as he sinks to his knees while clutching his groin.

You open your eyes, your hand on your very bruised wrist. The sight of him lying on the ground groaning in pain making your heart clench. You keep sobbing heavily as you force your legs to start moving, your muscles stinging in protest.

“Please don’t go…please…don’t go…” You can hear Mihawk whisper to himself as you leave, but you don’t turn back, and instead stumble into the crowd.

Your eyes try to scan your surroundings through your heavy tears, tripping over people's feet as you try to navigate the rooms, feeling like you’re going to have a panic attack if you stay here any longer. When you finally see who you’re looking for you whimper from relief, quickly going towards her.

“Robin…” You sob desperately.

Robin looks up from the conversation she’s having, her eyes immediately widening at the sight of you crying. “What happened? What’s wrong??”

You collapse into her arms, both of you sinking to the floor. “It was…Mihawk. Please take me home.”

Her eyes narrow at the mention of Mihawk, and she firmly holds you as she helps you stand back up. She swiftly leads you out of the house and onto the front lawn, the cold wind hitting your face, feeling a bit more at ease now that you’re out of the crowded noisy house.. “What did he do, honey?” She gently places her hands on your shoulders.

You can’t help but continue crying, so instead of saying anything you take your hand off of your wrist and show her the damage.

She gasps, immediately taking your wrist and assesses it. “That…fucker.” Is all she manages to say. “Come on, honey. I’ll take you home, you can take a shower and I’ll make you some tea.”

You nod, still sobbing uncontrollably. Robin puts her arm around your shoulders, and starts to lead you back to your house.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk remains slumped on the ground behind the bush, his hands still on his groin, desperately trying to soothe the pain, letting out soft groans. He’s so hazy from the alcohol he’s consumed tonight that thankfully the pain levels aren’t at the max, but it’s still excruciating. He can’t believe you actually kicked him.

The memories of your conversation consume his mind, but everything seems so unreal right now. He starts to silently cry to himself, his emotions too strong to keep bottled up.

He doesn’t know how long he stays on the ground for, but he definitely feels very sick and extremely exhausted. It probably wasn’t a good idea to mix all that alcohol, and so damn much of it.

Notes: I really enjoyed making him so possessive in this, I was giggling the entire time lol

Chapter 2: The Aftermath

Notes: This chapter is a little shorter♡ I wanted to write about what happened after their huge fight! I’ll be getting into the more dramatic stuff in the next chapter, so stay tuned ;) Content warning though, there is a little area that is about throwing up, so if that’s not for you don’t read or skip Mihawks' part.

You slowly come back to reality from your deep slumber. Your bedsheets feel smooth, your heart rate slow, the air you breathe crisp. The sounds of people merrily talking and walking on the street start to hit your ears, letting you know the world has begun moving again. The birds singing melodic songs as they chat amongst themselves, and the ocean crashing onto the shore creates a sense of peace. You start to smell the candles that were lit last night, and the unmistakable smell of waffles drifting through the air. The sunlight from your windows shine past your closed eyelids, kindly telling you it’s morning, gently coaxing you to get out of bed.

But your mind isn’t fully awake yet, so you lay there for a few moments to get used to being half conscious again. Everything's so calm, as if you’re on a cloud, not even knowing who you are or where you are. Unfortunately, when you wake up, the memories of the night before return to you.

As your haziness starts to fade, your focus is shifted to your aching wrist…and your eyes suddenly snap open, the light making you wince. The recollection of what happened comes slamming into you like a train.

The party, dancing and laughing with Law, Mihawks’ angry and possessive demeanor, the loud and heated argument, the strong hold on your wrist, and the kick to his groin. Your heart starts beating faster, and the once calm morning sounds begin to have a bitter edge to them.

You spend no more time laying in your bed, the adrenaline kicking you into high gear. Your body aches in protest as you sit up, and you run your hands over your face.

“Dammit…” You curse under your breath, your head buried in your hands.

Lifting your head back up, you take a deep breath, this is gonna be one hell of a long day. Despite your reluctance, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, standing up, and walking over to the chair where you left your clothes.

As you lazily get dressed, the pain in your wrist reminds you of everything that happened, and you feel a pang of hurt in your heart. You had been enjoying your night, Law was sweet and charming, you were looking forward to spending more time with him. Mihawk just had to intrude, and you were hoping to push him out of your mind for once…

You let out a weary sigh, nothing makes sense anymore. A growling noise from your stomach brings your hunger to attention and reminding you of the comforting smell of waffles. For the time being, you’ll try to push aside the memories so you can focus on breakfast. You open the door and leave your room, starting to walk down the hallway.

There’s music from the radio emitting through the air as you walk down the stairs, and you can hear Robin humming to herself in your kitchen.

Robin gives you a kind smile when she sees you, waving away some of the waffle smoke from her face. “Good morning y/n, how did you sleep?”

You lethargically walk over to the window and open it up, letting the smoke out. “I slept alright I guess…” You appreciate her warm welcome as you walk into the dining room.

“That’s good, honey. I’m nearly done with the waffles, it’s a miracle you have all the ingredients in your kitchen.” Robin says softly as she puts on another waffle.

“Yeah, I haven’t gone shopping for a while.” You reply tiredly, sitting down at the table and resting your chin on your palm. Your eyes look over your bruised wrist, which is resting on the table.

As the waffles keep cooking and Robin continues to hum to the music, your mind keeps going back to Mihawk. You feel overwhelming emotions starting to bubble over, now that you’re more awake. A lump forms in your throat and you put your hands over your face, taking a deep breath in hopes that it’ll just go away. It doesn’t go away, and tears that had been accumulating in the corner of your eyes spill onto your cheeks.

A few minutes go by and you hear the clink of a plate hitting the table top. You remove your hands slightly and you see Robin laying out the waffles, plates, cups and cutlery. You sniff and wipe away your tears, doing your best to compose yourself as she finishes setting the table.

Robin sits beside you and gently caresses your back. “Eat some food, maybe you’ll-…uhh never mind.” She smiles and retracts her hand, putting some waffles on her plate.

You smile faintly as you also grab a waffle. “Thank you…” Your voice slightly hoarse.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the music from the radio filling the room.

As you pick up the cutlery, you can’t help wondering why Robin cut herself off, but you shrug it off. You take your first bite, the flavors hit your tongue like an explosion on your tastebuds. They're buttery, not too sugary and the texture is so soft. “Damn, these are really good.” You murmur as you take another bite.

Robin smiles to herself, and the two of you continue to eat.

The taste of food helps take your mind off things a little, but you don’t begin to feel any better. Your minds still clouded, the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks again.

The two of you finish eating and Robin begins cleaning up, assuring you that it’s fine she does it herself as she doesn’t want you to exert yourself.

While Robin finishes cleaning, you retreat to the living room and plop down onto the couch. Your tears take no time to escape your eyes, and you sigh softly, leaning forward and burying your face in your hands.

You pay no mind to the sounds going on in the background, your mind faded into a pit of sadness and distress. The overwhelming feeling of everything crushing you into the ground.

“Let me have a look at your wrist, y/n.” Robin says as you feel her sit down next to you and reassuringly puts her hand on your back. You groan and move your hands, putting your hurt wrist onto her lap, revealing the red marks and bruises.

She looks at you worriedly, gently removing your tears with her thumb. You can see Robins’ got some bandages and ointment bottles on her lap. “…how’s the pain today?” She says softly.

“Mmm…pretty bad.” You wipe some of your tears away, your body shudders as you remember the reason behind the bruises.

“Aww, honey. That’s not good. I’ll get it fixed as best as I can, okay?” Robin says soothingly as she gently takes your wrist to inspect it.

You wince as she touches you, clenching your skirt with your other hand. “Okay. T-thank you.” You choke out.

She sighs as she looks you over, opening one of the ointments and lathers some on her hand. Robin begins to gently rub the cold liquid on your dark purple skin, being light with her fingers.

As her soft care washes over you, you feel the overwhelming tenderness of the injury. The physical, and mental. “Why-...why did he have to do that?”

“He just seems like an angry and sad person, but that doesn’t excuse his actions.” Robin responds, her eyes darkening slightly at the mention of Mihawk.

“It was just so intense…I just-...I just wanted to have a night without conflicts or drama.” You mutter sadly, tears streaming down your face.

She continues to apply the ointment, speaking softer now. “I know, I know. It wasn’t fair on you, he should’ve kept to himself.”

Tears fall down your face faster. “It really wasn’t fair, and I can’t believe he hurt me. When we were together…he promised to never lay a hand on me.”

Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “Any man who hurts a woman deserves to go to hell.”

“What do I do? He said he’s still in love with me, and then threatened to take me to ‘our house’ whether I want to or not. He was so scary, Robin…” You look at her with distraught eyes.

She thinks to herself for a moment, finishing off rubbing the ointment in. “y/n…that’s not how someone in love should act, even if they’re drunk. He was acting extremely possessive and controlling, which is a huge red flag. Don’t go anywhere near him, okay?”

You nod your head, taking a shuddering breath.

Robin starts to put a bandage on your wrist, thinking for a moment before responding. “Do you still…love him?”

Silence falls over the two of you and you avert your eyes, hesitating. Despite everything, you still missed Mihawk. “I…I love the guy he used to be…” You murmur sadly.

“That makes sense. It’s okay, I’ll help you through this, I promise. Just remember who he is now, an aggressive and dangerous person.” She says tenderly.

“O-okay…” You say quietly.

She finishes putting the bandage around your wrist and puts everything to the side. “There, that should help the healing process. Let me know if it gets worse.” Robin says as she puts her arms around you, bringing you closer to her.

You put your arms around her waist and rest your head on her shoulder, softly crying onto her shirt as she rubs your back.

Robin runs her fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you to the best of her abilities. It feels comforting to be in her arms, feeling her kind warmth. The room feeling more pleasant in her embrace.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk wakes up from his restless slumber and immediately groans in pain, his head pounding. The injury he acquired last night shooting through his body, his heart rate spiking. The bed sheets feel rough on his skin, serving as an unwelcome reality check. Sounds of two boys arguing on the street and shuffling of feet are heard through the closed window, letting him know the world is the same as ever. And the birds seem to be silent, or just not around. There’s also an unmistakable suffocating smell of musk, puke, sweat and the heat is close to clammy. The room is dark and unwelcoming, the curtains filtering out the light from outside. Not even a flicker of sunlight touching his pale skin.

He reaches his hands down and clutches his groin, groaning into his pillow and curling into a ball. Mihawk memories from last night wash over him like a cold bucket of water. Anger, self hatred, disappointment and shame fill him all at once. His memories reminding him of how stupid he was last night.

He remembers the god awful party, his unease, seeing you with Law, his extreme anger, drinking who knows how much, dragging you off somewhere, yelling at you, the constant harsh and possessive words, the hold on your wrist that left a dark bruise, you kicking his groin and leaving him there on the ground. Mihawk also remembers the aftermath.

He groans again as he remembers throwing up into the bush for a while on his hands and knees, the pain or the alcohol spurring it on, who knows. Shanks found him a while later, drunk as a skunk, and dragged Mihawk back to his house. For the rest of the night until the early hours, Mihawk spent them throwing up in the bathroom until his throat was sore and his body weak. He doesn’t know when he managed to fall asleep, just that he hasn’t been asleep for that long.

Mihawk whimpers to himself as he tries to keep his bearings, his mind still slightly hazy from just gaining consciousness again. He remembers the look on your face when he grabbed your wrist-...There’s a loud slam of a door opening down the hall, and he can hear Shanks running to the bathroom, hurling into the toilet.

He winces and puts the duvet over his head, wanting to drown everything out, one hand still on his groin and the other rubbing his temple to try and lessen the headache. Mihawk can’t help but feel overwhelming guilt, shame and disgust. He can’t believe he let his feelings blow up like that last night, and towards you of all people. Nothing in that moment mattered when he saw you with that prick, so he unleashed everything on you, all his claims and threats. He hurt you. He ruined everything, more than it already was.

However, anger still lingers under the surface of his skin, even though he’s woken up with a lot of regrets. He still doesn’t like that you were with that dumbass, touching you and making you laugh. A part of him can’t help but be glad he got you away from Law, but at what cost?

A wave of dread washes over him when he suddenly remembers how he talked to you, Mihawks’ possessive side flared up in the worst possible way. He remembers when you liked his possessiveness, but you aren’t together anymore. But in his drunken state he didn’t care, he just wanted you back. He softly whimpers again, shutting his eyes tightly, he hates himself. Hates how he treated you, hurt you and scared you. Everything he did was wrong and idiotic, he was a complete prick.

After a few minutes he decides he needs to check his wound, so he opens his eyes and takes the duvet off his head, opening the curtains beside him. The sun barely makes it into the room, a large tree blocking the sunlight. Mihawk takes a deep breath and sits up, his stomach searing with pain, his head hammering and his nausea still present. He takes a deep breath to try and collect himself for what he’s about to see, before he pulls the duvet off of his legs. Mihawk slips his finger under his boxers, he gently lifts them just enough to see the damage. His eyes widen slightly. His nuts are completely inflamed, bruised and red, they’ve never looked…this…bad before. Despite the sight, Mihawk can’t hold back the half smile at the sight, Miss y/n can really pack a kick.

Mihawk decides to just remove his boxers, tossing them aside. The mere feel of them on his inflamed skin is too much to handle. He takes a deep breath after removing them, the tenderness feeling slightly more calm. But a moment later the heat and discomfort set in again.

He takes a few moments to gather any strength before he slowly pushes himself up off of the bed as carefully he can, his stomach and balls flaring up again. Mihawk slowly shuffles over to the wardrobe to fetch some loose fitting pants, the pain searing the whole way. He slowly opens the wardrobe and looks through it. He hopes it won’t irritate his sensitive nuts and stomach too much, already feeling like they’re being ripped apart.

Thankfully he finds some good pants, but even as they settle on him, the fabric still rubs him in all the wrong areas. But he has no choice but to endure it for now.

Mihawk walks across his room, wincing as he goes, opening the door to step into the hallway. He takes a deep breath and starts making his way down it, going to the bathroom where Shanks is still puking his guts out.

“You alright?” Mihawk says roughly, reaching Shanks who’s hunched over the toilet. His stomach churns more than it already is, watching as he throws up again.

“Yeah…I’m fine. Just…really hungover.” Shanks responds breathlessly, sweat dripping down his nose and back.

Mihawk silently assesses his state, before speaking again. “I’m sure you are, I told you to be careful last night, redhair. Do you have some Aspirin or something?”

Shanks grunts weakly, not appreciating his comment. “Yeah…it’s on the counter behind me.”

“Alright then, try not to puke again while I grab it.” Mihawk says, going to the counter and picking up some aspirin, his stomach doing another flip. He doesn’t wait to get any water and just immediately swallows it.

Shanks murmurs weakly. “So…what happened to you last night?”

Mihawk freezes slightly. “Nothing.”

A heavy silence falls over them, Mihawk can tell Shanks feels disappointed he won’t open up…again. Guilt starts to creep in but he pushes it aside.

Mihawk moves to the door frame and gives one last look at Shanks before leaving, he can see the hurt in his expression and Mihawks’ heart clenches. But he doesn’t say anything, instead he goes to the kitchen, intending to get some food.

He practically limps there, the pain excruciating. Mihawk knows the only option for food is bread, as Shanks doesn’t exactly take care of household needs. So he walks to the container and brings out a piece, unfortunately it’s a little stale, but it’ll have to do. Mihawk then starts his search through the cupboards to find any sort of spread, but to no avail. He groans to himself, running his hand down his face, he knew he should have gone shopping yesterday.

Mihawk cuts his losses and leans against the counter, not daring to sit on a hard surface right now. He takes a bite of the stale bread, the flavors dull on his tongue.

As he eats, Mihawk is accompanied by the sounds of Shanks’ retching echoing through the house, so it isn’t completely silent.

The longer he stands there, the more emotional he becomes. It’s just all so shit. He can’t help but let tears roll down his cheeks as he chews and swallows, dissociating as he looks down at the dirty floor. Mihawks’ mind goes to you. Your fearful, hurt and confused expression plagues his thoughts and he knows it’s all his fault. But also a little anger, not being able to erase the image of Law holding your waist.

He can’t manage to consume any more food, so he puts the half eaten slice down onto the counter, despite still being hungry. He just feels like the worst person in the world. Mihawk slowly walks to the freezer and opens it up. He searches through it, knowing what he needs has to be in here somewhere.

After a few moments he lets out a sigh of relief when his eyes spot it, small bags of ice. Mihawk eagerly grabs one of the bags. He can almost feel the pain and discomfort easing as he holds it.

He retreats with a limp back off to the guest room, shutting the door behind him and immediately removing his pants. Getting into bed and with his back leaning against the headboard.

A deep breath escapes him as he looks at his groin, knowing what he’s about to do isn’t going to feel too good. He slowly lowers the ice onto his nuts and groans, the cold feels good but the contact is still difficult to bear. He keeps one hand on his groin to hold the ice in place, and his other hand gently resting on his stomach. Mihawk leans his head against the headboard and looks at the roof, last night swirling around and haunting his mind.

What in the world is he meant to do? He doubts you’d ever want to speak to him again, or see him again…and honestly, he wouldn’t blame you. It was stupid to make all of those decisions, he made all of his issues into your issues…maybe leaving the party would have been the better move. But on the other hand, he still doesn’t want you with someone else…but he knows he went way too far.

He could leave this town and never look back, forget about you, Shanks and everyone else. Mihawk could live a life of extreme solitude, find a home on some abandoned island, living the rest of his days in isolation.

He sighs, knowing it won’t really fix anything, since he’d just be running away from his problems. And he would probably go insane, since he’d only be talking to himself. He knows he can’t forget about you, no matter how hard he tries. But it’s a tempting idea, maybe he’ll feel less alone and hur-

Mihawk suddenly loses his breath. He’s thinking of avoiding his issues again…just like he did with you. But maybe this time…it could help him feel better for a brief moment.

He breathes out. Maybe he could talk to you, if you let him, and then-…

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, he’s stuck and doesn’t have any control. Mihawk can’t even bring himself to tell Shanks either, so how is he supposed to navigate this? It’s all such a mess, a big ugly mess. It’s hopeless.

He feels his head drop and he puts one hand in front of his eyes, his emotions getting the better of him. Mihawk begins to softly cry into his palm, his tears heavy and thick, his sobs deep and painful. The pain gets worse in his nuts but he can’t control it right now.

It feels suffocating in this empty space, feeling the harsh loneliness. The room feels more unbearable as the only embrace is the darkness that surrounds him.

Notes: This chapter was so fun to make! I LOVED making the parallels between the two, and poor Mihawk is really going through it.

Chapter 3: Turning the Page

Notes: This chapter answers a lot of questions so get ready! I’m sad this fanfics come to an end since I’ve LOVED making Mihawk into the messiest young adult, but I’m really happy with how I made the drama unfold and I hope you are too♡ 

It’s been around 4 days since the party and the altercation, 4 days of aching and misery for Mihawk. He’s barely slept, his swollen throbbing nuts are also a constant reminder of his drunken behavior and your kick. He’s irritable, exhausted and his stern expression is darker than normal. Shanks has tried to talk to him multiple times but he won’t open up, so he’s settled for fussing over Mihawk like a mother. Which Mihawk really does appreciate, even if he doesn’t show it very well. It’s not like Redhair to be so distressed. Mihawk suspects Shanks’ worry was more due to the situation and not his injury, and the guilt he must have felt for leaving Mihawk alone that night. 

Since Mihawk hasn’t been able to do much, he’s been  laying or sitting around, or crying in his room. He’s guessing he could have filled at least a large bucket with his tears by now, maybe even more. His mind involuntarily trails to his relationship with you, the good parts. He reminisces about all the mornings when he was too tired to function, so you shaved his facial hair for him. Helping to get your shoes off while you’re holding a million shopping bags that you insisted you could ‘handle’. But he tries to keep these memories at bay, he doesn’t want to get too consumed by them. Especially since he doubts anything can get fixed now, considering the hell he’s put you through. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk sits at the edge of Shanks’ porch, his feet in the grass, an ice pack at his groin, under the shade of the house. Occasionally wincing from the pain. The trees sway in the wind as a light breeze runs through, the smell of flowers surrounding the garden and frogs jumping into the pond to escape the other wildlife. But instead of really looking at the serene world around him, his mind focuses on all the mistakes he’s made. It’s his default now…thinking about everything that happened. 

He sighs, he finally made a decision this morning. It took a few days and some mental back and forth to get to it. Whether this decision is good or bad, he doesn’t entirely know. But he’s come to his own conclusion on what he has to do next. 

He’s gonna try and talk to you, to apologize. 

Mihawk figured there would be no point in running away again, nothing would be settled and he’d regret it. Even if you don’t accept his apology, which he’s already prepared himself for, it’ll be a sort of closure…he’s hoping. 

But he doesn’t know what’s going to happen when he shows up at your apartment, he’ll probably get kicked to the curb. But he has to try…right?

“Mmm, you should take that stick out for a date since you like it so much.” Shanks chuckles, startling Mihawk slightly. In his zoned out state he didn’t realize he was staring at a stick that lay in front of him, and he definitely didn’t realize Redhair was behind him. 

“Sh-shut it. I was just concentrating.” Mihawk grumbles, avoiding Shanks’ gaze. 

Shanks chuckles again, sitting down beside Mihawk. 

“What are you thinking about? And for the love of god don’t say ‘nothing’.” 

Mihawk opens his mouth to tell him ‘it’s nothing’ again. But before he can respond, Shanks cuts him off.

“Please, Dracule. I’m anxious about you, okay? Just give me something.” 

Mihawk sighs deeply. The troubled and pleading look in Shanks’ eyes makes him feel guilty. “It’s complicated…” He starts, fiddling with his jacket.

Shanks keeps his eyes trained on Mihawk, holding his breath in hopes he’ll keep going.

“I’m going to apologize to y/n, happy now?” Mihawk says slowly and carefully.

“That’s a start, but you still haven’t told me about what you did.” Redhair responds softly. 

“You’ll judge me…” Mihawk says quietly. 

“I won’t judge you, you should know that by now…when are you going to apologize to her?” 

“Tonight…” Mihawk mutters, still not looking at Redhair. 

Shanks sighs, putting his hand on Mihawks’ shoulder, not saying anything more.

Mihawk appreciates the calm silence. He feels like the last few hours before he goes to your house are going to be the quiet before the storm. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

The cold air hits Mihawks’ cheeks, making them slightly red as he walks through the urban area. His palms are clammy and there’s an underlying feeling of dread. His footsteps are the only thing heard in the dark empty avenue, everyone seems to be relaxing after dinnertime. Mihawks’ still walking with a slight limp, the pain and discomfort from his injury still very much present. 

His breathing starts getting a little more uneven the closer he gets to your home, he wants to turn back but he forces his legs to keep moving. Mihawk can’t help but think over all the possible scenarios, each one being worse than the last. 

After a few more minutes of walking, he reaches your street. He takes out the piece of paper with your address on it with a shaky hand. Mihawk looks it over quickly just to make sure, before putting it back. 

“Fuck…” He mutters to himself, feeling his heartbeat quicken when he sees your house. This is really happening. 

Finally reaching your doorstep, Mihawk swallows thickly, his body shaking uncontrollably, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He tries taking a few deep breaths but it doesn’t work, he’s too on edge. Mihawk groans to himself, running his hands down his face in distress and overwhelm. 

Before he’s tempted to leave, Mihawk quickly reaches his hand up and knocks on the door before he can wimp out. He’s got no choice but to go forward with it now. 

A few moments pass and he hears someone walking on the other side, making him tremble even more, feeling like he’ll throw up. Which really wouldn’t make a good impression.

The door opens, but instead of you standing there, it’s Robin. She immediately furrows her brow and glares at Mihawk, and starts to swing the door shut. 

But before it closes, he jams his foot in the way. “Please…I need to talk to y/n.” Mihawk quietly pleads through the crack of the door. 

“Get out of here, bastard. She doesn’t want to see you, and I don’t want you near her.” Robin speaks in a hushed angry tone. 

“P-please…I’ll keep my distance, just let me talk to her.” Mihawk pleads again, his voice shaking. 

Robin huffs to herself, looking him over suspiciously. “I’ll go ask her, stay here.” 

Before he can thank her, she kicks his foot hard so that she can close the door, slamming it in his face. Mihawk takes a deep shaky breath, hoping you’ll say yes, and biting his lip from the pain.

A couple of minutes later the door opens again and Robin looks at him with her piercing eyes. He feels dizzy from the anxiety of anticipation.

“She’ll talk to you. But before you come inside, are you drunk?” Robin says sternly.

“N-no, I haven’t drunk since…” Mihawk trails off, unable to meet Robins’ eyes. 

She scoffs under her breath, clearly not happy with the current situation. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

You walk down the stairs, your hand gripping the railing from unease. Agreeing to talk to Mihawk maybe isn’t for the best, but you’re hoping to get something out of it. 

As you step onto the floor and go towards the front door, you see Mihawk standing there beside Robin. He looks like a fucking wreck. 

He’s got dark circles under his eyes, his body visibly trembling and his clothing is anything but neat. You take a breath and look away from him, not wanting to look at him longer than you have to. 

“What do you want?” You manage to say, your voice a forced murmur. 

He takes a deep breath. “I need to…apologize to you. If you’ll let me.” 

You look up at Robin, who’s got her arms crossed and shaking her head in disbelief.

“Well then…go ahead.” You mutter.

“No I-...I want to do it properly, to sit down with you. Please?” He says pleadingly. 

You sigh. “And you won’t come near me?” 

Mihawk furiously shakes his head. “I won’t come near you, I promise, y/n.”

“Fine…Robin I can deal with this, I’ll let you know if I need you.” You say quietly. 

Robin seems skeptical but accepts that you need time alone to talk. She comes over to you and whispers.

“If he does ANYTHING, I’ll be at my house.” She squeezes your arm and you nod. 

As Robin leaves she can’t help but glare at Mihawk again, a shiver running down his spine from her silent threat. Once she’s gone he shuts the door and turns to you, his eyes lowered.

You groan to yourself and start walking to the living room, Mihawk silently following after you. 

Two couches are up against neighboring walls so you don’t have to sit beside Mihawk. You both sit down, taking a seat furthest from him.

Heavy silence falls over the house, Mihawk's unsteady breathing and his rapid heartbeat being the only indication that people are here. 

He finally looks up at you, his face contorted with shame. You look at him for a moment before looking away again, you can’t bring yourself to keep eye contact just yet.

Mihawk clears his throat, speaking shakily. “I’m really, really sorry, y/n. I w-was a prick, an asshole, an idiot and I was completely out of line. I-”

He swallows, the silence looming over the two of you again.

“I made horrible decisions that I really regret. I’m…god, I’m so sorry…I never should have hurt you, and I never should have…taken it so far.” He manages to finish, his voice filled with regret.

You listen to him quietly, taking in his words. He sounds sincere, for the first time in a long while.

“Just because you apologize, doesn’t make it all okay.” You say shakily.

“I-I know, I know that. But you…you deserve an apology.” He responds.

“What happened that night.” You say firmly as you get to the point, leaving no room for him to lie or get out of it. You know it’s a sudden shift to the discussion, but you need answers.

“I lost my mind.” He shamefully whispers.

“Take me through it, all the details.” You say slightly shakily, your body tensing in preparation for what you’re about to hear.

Mihawk quivers slightly, looking at his hands. “Well…it started when I saw you dancing with that assh-I mean uhh…Law. I saw how close you two were, like you were flirting or something. I just…couldn’t handle it, I lost it. And it didn’t help that I was already on edge, I was dealing with anxiety just by being at the party, especially when Shanks left me alone. So to try and deal with it all, I drank…a lot. I had…5…maybe 6 bottles…I don’t know. I was just so angry, overwhelmed and jealous, more than I ever have been in my entire life.”

You had suspected he drank a lot, but not that much. And you’ve never seen or heard Mihawk this broken before, he’s usually calm, keeping his emotions and speech in check. Instead he’s fumbling over his words like a moron. 

He continues. “So then after I drank, I sat down to..watch you…” He whispers the last part, his cheeks flushing.

“You watched me and Law?” You ask with a hint of disbelief.

“Y-yeah…I’m sorry for that too. But after a while I had enough, so I went to confront you and then…you know the rest.” Mihawk says, taking another deep and shaky breath. 

While you keep silent his eyes flicker down to your wrist, that’s still bandaged, another wave of guilt etched on his face. “I’m sorry for hurting you, I can’t believe I did that…” 

“I…” You begin. “This is a lot to take in, I wasn’t expecting you to apologize.”

He nods. “Yeah, I honestly thought that I’d…”

Another silence falls over the house. You glance over at Mihawk who’s white as a sheet.

“Seeing you with that guy, it was like the breakup was set in stone.” He says quietly, his voice laced with despair. “Like I could never get you back.”

You look away from him. “You should have gone home.”

He visibly flinches, taking another breath. “Look, I’m not going to sit here and lie to you. I don’t regret taking you away from him. I regret how I did it, I regret drinking so much, I regret how I hurt you and yelled at you. I should have calmly talked to you, but I was too out of my mind for anything like that.”

“I wouldn’t have listened to you either way.” You mutter, pain clutching at your chest.

“But it would have been better than what I ended up doing.” He sighs.

“I looked into your eyes and you weren’t there. You were so…scary. ” You say quietly. 

He leans forward and puts his head in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I know I was. I wasn’t the man you used to care for, I don’t even recognise myself. Never in my life did I want to be seen as scary to you, seeing the look on your face…I’ll never forget it. I always swore to protect you, not hurt you. I hate myself for it.” 

A few tears roll down your cheeks as well, the pain in your chest only increasing. “Why didn’t you let me go? I was crying…”

Mihawk shudders, the reminder of the incident taking over. “I regret holding onto you so tightly. I just couldn’t let go. I didn’t know how to…I don’t know how to let you go. You’re the love of my life. I can’t even begin to explain the irrational fear and possession I felt that night. 

“You said you didn’t care that you were hurting me.” You mutter chokingly. 

“I wish I could tell you I didn’t mean it, but I did. I didn’t care about anything else, I needed you to be mine again. Even if that meant I was hurting you. Although, after a while I came to my senses a bit more…that’s when you kicked me.” 

You nod, remembering that a few minutes before you kicked him that he had panicked a bit, his guilt seeping through his anger. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“Served me right, I threw up into the bushes a few minutes later. Then when Shanks took me to his, I spent the rest of the night puking my guts out which I deserved as well.” He states, wiping away some tears.

Despite everything that’s happened, you can’t help but feel worried over his health. “Really? All night?” 

“Mhmm, I couldn’t stop, everything I drank just got hurled out of me for hours. I couldn’t get a decent sleep either…” Mihawk cringes to himself as he trails off, the memory clearly being unpleasant. 

“Oh…” You would say more, tell him you’re glad he’s okay, but you shouldn’t. 

“And the next day…god. I was disgusted with myself. Remembering what I’d done to you…the things I said to you.” He mutters. 

“Yeah it was pretty brutal…” You whisper. 

“It was, I was. I-I hate how I treated you, it was physically and emotionally damaging. You really didn’t deserve that.” His voice raw.

“Yeah…” 

He looks at you, jealousy thick in his voice. “I didn’t…ruin your relationship with Law, did I?” 

“I don’t have a relationship with him, we met that night and we were just having fun. I told you that.” You look back at him.

Mihawk takes a sigh of relief. “O-okay, I know you told me that. I would apologize for stopping the ‘fun’ but I don’t think I can bring myself to do that. I’m sorry.” 

“I honestly didn’t expect you to apologize for that thing in particular, it’s fine.” You say quietly. 

He nods slowly.

You add on. “And umm, if I saw you with another girl I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I wouldn’t go to the lengths that you did, though.” 

“Yeah, you’re strong and I’m…a complete mess.” He sighs, running his hand down his face.

You look at him, feeling a bit of empathy, but you push it aside.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I’m sorry…I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for making a good night into a bad one, I’m sorry for the words I said  to you, I’m sorry for acting insane and unhinged, I’m sorry for harming you…and I’m also sorry for how I treated you in our relationship, I really am sorry…could you ever…forgive me?” He pleads, searching your eyes for anything he can grasp onto. 

“How do you expect me to forgive you when you haven’t even explained half of it.” You sigh, leaning back into the couch and looking up at the ceiling. 

He goes deathly silent, and you can practically feel the cogs turning in his head. 

Eventually, he sighs. “Shit…” 

“Look…I don’t think I-” He begins, but you interrupt him.

“Don’t.” 

Mihawk shuts his mouth immediately and looks away from you, and you feel a pang of disappointment.

“You don’t understand…I can’t tell you, you wouldn’t understand, no one would.” He says quietly. 

You groan. “Then MAKE ME understand! I need to know why you distanced yourself from me, then the other night you…you said you still loved me. Nothing makes any sense.” 

He hesitates. “I know I don’t make any sense…I’m sorry…”

Frustration starts to bubble up to the surface. “Please, I deserve to know. You owe me an explanation.” 

Mihawk fidgets, opening his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

Tears form in your eyes, you feel like you’re getting nowhere. Even if he’s apologized, at this point it just isn’t enough. 

You hunch over and put a hand over your eyes, the tears trickling down. 

He immediately notices your crying, and becomes slightly frantic but not moving from his seat. “N-no! I’m sorry, y/n! Please don’t cry, I’m sorry okay?” 

“Just tell me what happened, did I do something wrong??” You softly sob as you finally look up at him again.

His face turns from frantic to mortified and breathes out. “W-what?? No! Of course not!”

“You barely even looked at me, all you did was focus on being a marine hunter and ignoring me.” You choke out.

Mihawk looks distressed as he watches you, and you can tell he wants to comfort you but he keeps his distance as promised. “I-I know…I shouldn’t have…been like that, I’m sorry.”

“Please…tell me why.” You say pleadingly. 

He’s silent for a moment, before saying quietly. “Everyone will judge me…you’ll judge me…especially you…”

“Please, tell me. I won’t judge you, I promise…” You plead once more.

Mihawk goes silent again, looking at the floor. You feel desperation take over as he shuts down, breaking you down even more.

“Please! Dracule…” You sob heavily. His body reacting slightly at the sound of his given name from your lips. 

“I thought…pushing you away would fix all my issues…” He confesses in a hoarse whisper, closing his eyes. 

“What do you mean?” You sob.

He starts getting overwhelmed, his demeanor shifting. He suddenly stands up from the couch. “It’s too much…I came here to apologize a-and that’s what I did.” 

Your eyes widen as he starts walking out of the living room, so you quickly get up and grab his arm. He stiffens at the contact, but obliges as you turn him around to face you. 

“Please…” You look into his uncertain eyes, heavy tears covering your face. 

“I should go back to Shanks’ house, I’m sorry I turned up.” He says quietly.

“No..please! I won’t judge you, just tell me what happened. Please…don’t go, don’t shut me out again.” You whisper desperately. 

Mihawk stands in silence for a few minutes. Your hand still gripped onto his arm as he looks at the floor. 

He finally looks back at you, shame and guilt written all over his features. “Okay…okay.”

Your heartbeat speeds up, gripping his arm a little tighter.

Mihawk lowers his eyes again, taking a deep breath. “It all started because…I had a rough childhood.”

You feel slightly taken aback. He’s opened up about his childhood briefly before, but never in detail. And what has that got to do with anything?

“My parents abandoned me when I was a kid. They just…left me. Ever since then I’ve been scared that…t-the people I love will eventually leave me as well.” He whispers sadly.

You slightly loosen your  grip on his arm, his confession sinking in. 

“I guess I’ve never really gotten over that. I was worried you were going to leave me like…like my parents did. ” He takes a deep shaky breath before continuing. “I decided to distance myself from you. I was paranoid that you were going to break up with me, I thought it wouldn’t hurt as much when it happened if I’d already pushed you away. It just consumed me fully. But..when it did happen…when you…I couldn’t handle it.” 

The air seems to leave your lungs.

Mihawk gets overwhelmed again, taking another deep breath. “You have to understand y/n, I thought it would be easier. I was so scared you’d leave me! I-I didn’t want to be hurt again. I thought if I put my walls up, and you left, I wouldn’t get hurt. But I was wrong…so insanely wrong. Pushing you away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

You stand there in a shocked silence, your mouth slightly agape, your lungs screaming for air. 

Heavy tears start falling down his cheeks, his breathing slightly labored. “I’m sorry…it was the biggest mistake of my life. It pained me to distance myself from you, you have no idea how many times I broke down in the bathroom. I just thought it was for the best...” 

Nothing prepared you for this.

“I became a different person, I wasn’t the man you fell in love with. I was cold, distant, angry…and it was all my own fault.” He whispers hoarsely. 

Before you can control it, you let go of his arm and sink to your knees, your sobbing starting up again. All this time, and this is what he was afraid of? You feel your emotions falling apart, confused and sad. 

He looks down at you with horrified eyes, not knowing what to do as he continues crying. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I-I can go, if you want.”

“You can’t just leave!” You shout through your sobs, startling him heavily. 

“O-okay I won’t go anywhere…I just don’t…” He fumbles. 

Mihawk watches you cry for a moment, before carefully sitting on his legs in front of you. He takes your upper arms gently, trying to give you some sort of support. 

“I’m sorry…” He repeats quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You question him, looking into his eyes again.

He swallows. “B-because…I was afraid you’d want nothing to do with me after you found out how truely damaged I am. I was scared that you’d see me differently and think I’m pathetic. And I didn’t want to burden you, all I wanted to do was protect you.”

“I never would have done or thought that…I would have tried to help you. To reassure you.” You sob.

“I didn’t…know that…” He whispers, a sigh leaving his lungs.

You sob a little harder, making him panic.

“What is it?? What’s wrong??” He says desperately, his heartbeat quickening.

You speak to the best of your abilities. “Knowing that you were going through so much, for months, years. That you were scared…that hurts me, Dracule. All of this is so much worse knowing you were in pain too.” 

He nods his head slowly, understanding where you’re coming from. He gently caresses your arm with his fingers, trying to calm you down somehow. “Dammit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, I should have communicated with you. Please don’t feel bad for me.”

“Why couldn’t you be a heartless asshole, it would have made it easier.” You heavily sob.

“I’m sorry for not being a heartless asshole…instead I’m just this huge mess. You deserved better.” He says shakily. 

“This is so much to take in at once…” 

“I know…I…I should have told you years ago. I let it snowball into the biggest mistake of my life.” He says shamefully. 

“I just…I can’t believe it…” You choke out.

Mihawks’ eyes widen impossibly large. “Y-you don’t believe me?? I promise I’m telling you the tru-” 

“NO! Not…not in that way. This is all just so…I didn’t expect this to be the reason.” You sob.

“O-oh, thank god. What did you think the reason was?” He whispers nervously.

“Either…you were a heartless monster, or I did something wrong, maybe you stopped loving me…anything but this.” 

“Fuck…I’m sorry for making you that worried. I was so caught up in my paranoia of you leaving, that I didn’t think you…really cared.” He whispers, tears in his eyes.

You sob a little harder. “But I cried beside you in bed, many times. I was upset, Dracule. You saw that.” 

Shame constricts his features again. “I did…yeah. But I was too trapped inside my own mind, I convinced myself you weren’t being serious. That it was just you guilt tripping me.” 

“Guilt tripping you?” You repeat slowly.

“I thought that was a way for you to make it my fault because you were going to leave me. I know it doesn’t even make any sense…I’m so sorry…I can’t even imagine the pain I’ve put you through.” He whispers brokenly. 

You look at him with confusion, your tears falling rapidly.

“I’m gonna start working on myself, I promise. Whether we’re together or…not. The party was really eye opening for me, I can’t keep living in this mental state. I’m destroying myself and everyone else around me.” He says shamefully, looking into your eyes.

“All the things you said to me that night…” You whisper as another strangled sob leaves you.

“I was at the end of my line, the emotions I had been feeling for years boiled over.” His cheeks go slightly pink from shame but he holds your gaze. “I didn’t mean any of it, I was angry and drunk. I definitely didn’t mean that you belong to me because I’ve fucked you, I said that out of pure drunken possessiveness and jealousy. I was grasping at anything and everything to make you listen to me.”

“So you aren’t possessive over me…?” 

He takes a shaky breath. “I am possessive over you, but not to that extent. I promise. It still shouldn’t become your problem though, the way I acted that night isn’t who I want to be. I’m sorry for acting so unhinged.”

“I just wish you would have come to me before it got this bad.” You stammer.

“I wish that too, I wish I didn’t push you away. But you have to understand, at the time I thought that…you’d leave.” He lowers his gaze.

“I never would have left you, I loved you. I would have done anything in my power to be there for you, I’m not your parents.” 

“Dammit…why’d I have to mess it all up…” He mutters to himself.

Another silence falls over the two of you, except for the sound of your crying. Both of your minds working overtime. 

“Is there any way…you can forgive me?” He finally whispers, lifting his head to meet your gaze again.

You take a deep breath, sensing the anxiety radiating off of him. “Y-yes…”

His eyes widen and he’s speechless for a moment. “Thank y-you, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear on my life I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

All of these confessions and decisions are too much for you to handle, and you start crying even harder. Mihawk panics slightly.

“H-hey…don’t cry, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry for not telling you about it all, just please…” He says shakily, looking at you with a worried expression. 

You can’t help but keep crying, overwhelmed beyond belief. 

“Y/n, look at me.” He says shakily as he cups your cheek, guiding your face so he can look into your eyes. “I promise I’ll be better, and it’s all going to be okay. I’m so sorry for taking you through hell, I’ll never forgive myself.

Mihawk then hesitantly wraps his arms around your body, bringing you flush against his chest as you cry. He rests his head on your shoulder, his hand soothingly caressing your back. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

You bury your head into the crook of his neck, your arms going around his waist, needing comfort more than anything right now. 

“Please stop crying, I can’t take it when you cry so hard…it breaks my heart...” He whispers pleadingly, but you can’t stop. 

Mihawk sighs deeply, knowing you won’t slow down. So he holds you tighter and settles for whispering positive affirmations in your ear in hopes that it’ll help.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

You’re not sure how long you’ve been crying for, all you know is that Mihawks’ embrace feels like the most comforting thing you’ve felt in months. His words have a soothing effect on you, bringing you back down from feeling so overwhelmed. The touch on your back feels nice, like home.

As your sobs become small sniffles, your body resorts to trembling from the intensity.

“That’s it, can you take deep breaths for me?” He whispers. You start to take deep breaths and begin to take note of his familiar scent, calming you further. 

He keeps you like this for a while longer, making sure to tread carefully. Mihawk then leans out and cups your cheek again, looking into your eyes with his warm honey coloured gaze. 

“Sorry for getting this close to you…”

“It’s fine…I needed you.” You whisper.

He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb, keeping his voice soft and quiet. “Okay, I was just making sure.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, making him freeze for a moment. 

“Please don’t thank me, I’ve done too much to-”

You cut him off. “You’ve been going through hell as well, it must be hard to navigate abandonment issues all by yourself…”

He sighs. “It has, but there’s no excuse.” 

Your arms tighten around him. “Yeah…” 

Mihawk nods slowly, processing your words before changing the subject slightly. “Can I…look at your wrist? I need to see what I’ve done.” 

“Sure.” You whisper, and unwrap your arms. 

As you remove the bandage, his eyes are locked onto the area, his heartbeat quickening. 

The bandage falls to the ground and your dark bruised wrist is exposed. Mihawk takes a moment to look over the damage, his hand coming up to gently hold it. 

“I’m sorry…” He whispers in utter guilt for the millionth time.

All you can do is stay silent, there’s nothing much you can say right now.

Mihawks’ eyes fill with tears, letting them fall down his face. He takes a shaky breath, putting your wrist down and wrapping his arm around you again to keep you close.

After a moment, you speak up. “Umm…how do your nuts feel…?”

He chuckles lightly, which catches you off guard. “I’m in constant agony, I can barely walk properly.” 

“I kicked you pretty hard, I won’t be apologizing for it though.” You mutter with a slight smile.

“Good, don’t. I think you kicking me in the balls brought me to my senses more than anything else. I should be thanking you.” He whispers, holding you closer. 

Taking a deep breath, you breathe in his scent again. “I missed being held by you.”

“I missed holding you.” Mihawk responds, his face deep in your hair and his voice filled with remorse. “I hope you know that I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you and I don’t think I can even if I wanted to.”

“I…” You pause. “As I told Robin, I love the man you used to be. And right now you feel like the man you used to be.” 

You feel his heart skip a beat and he whispers quickly to himself, so quiet you nearly don’t catch it. “I can work with that.”

He tightens his grip on you ever so slightly, and you feel him close his eyes against your neck.

“Y/n…this may be asking too much but…” He whispers hesitantly. “Is there any possible way you’d give me a second chance?

“Y-yes, there is. But only if you promise to communicate properly with me.” You whisper back nervously.

“I’d do anything to get you back and keep you, so yes. A million times yes. I’m done pushing you away and hiding my feelings. I couldn’t bear losing you again.” He says sincerely, his body trembling again.

“I’ll give you that second chance, but you don't get a third. Got it?” You whisper sternly. 

Mihawk leans back out, his hand going to the side of your neck as he looks into your eyes. “I got it, you have my word.” 

“Okay…good.”

“Does this mean that…you’re mine again?” He whispers chokingly, his hand trembling. 

You nod, your heart skipping a beat. “Yes, I just want my boyfriend back. I need you back.” 

“You have me…I promise you do. We’ll get through this, I’ll work on myself and treat you like you deserve to be treated.” He whispers, caressing your cheek again.

“O-okay…” You whisper back.

“Can I kiss you?” He says in an unsure tone.

“Please.” You murmur.

Mihawk sighs in relief, and leans forward. He gently connects your lips in a sweet and tender kiss, pouring all of his feelings that have been in a dark corner for months. 

The two of you pull out after a minute and you look into his eyes, his gaze full of love.

“God…I’ve never seen anything more beautiful…”

“I’ve been crying…” You whisper back.

“I don’t care, you’re still the epitome of beauty in my eyes.” He murmurs. 

You rest your head back onto his shoulder, holding him tightly. Mihawk goes back to caressing your back, holding you close to him.

As the two of you spend a few minutes calming down and process everything, you stay silent. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Your breathing and his has mostly gone back to normal, but there’s still an air of unease.

“Can we…take a bath?” You whisper softly, breaking the silence, your body still slightly trembling from the aftermath.

“Sure, anything for you. Would you like me to-”

“Yes.” You reply quickly.

He can’t help but smile, before helping you up to your feet. “Lead the way, I haven’t been here before.” 

“Oh yeah…that’s right.” You mutter, intertwining your fingers and starting to walk to your bathroom with him.

As you walk, he looks around your home properly for the first time tonight. “How did you get this place so fast?” 

You shrug as the two of you get to the bathroom, flicking the light on and shutting the door. “I was lucky, it was for lease when we uhh…broke up, so I decided to rent it. How did you know I lived here, by the way?”

Mihawk leans down and turns on the bath, his hand under the water to test the heat. “Shanks knew where you lived. He was at the local tavern, and it slipped out while he was having a conversation with the owner about houses.” 

That damn tavern owner never seems to keep his mouth shut about everyone's business. 

He gets the right temperature for the water and fills the bathtub up fully, then stands up, turning to you. “Come here. I can remove your clothes, let me take care of you.” He looks at you with soft eyes.

You nod, feeling a tiredness grow. 

Mihawk smiles and starts taking your clothes off, being sure to be careful with every movement of his hands. 

When he’s finished he looks over your body, admiring it. “You’re just as gorgeous as I remember…”

You lightly blush, and then watch him as he takes off his own clothes. 

He sets everything to the side and extends his hand, you take it without hesitation and you step into the bathtub with his help. He slowly follows behind and sits down, guiding you down with him. Mihawk gently sets you down between his legs, your back up against his chest, his arms encircling your waist and his head resting on your shoulder. 

The warm water surrounds your bodies, making you both sigh in relaxation. 

“Are you comfortable, darling?” He murmurs, the nickname making your heart skip a beat.

“Very comfortable, thank you.” You murmur back. 

“Good, now just relax. I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.” He mutters, taking your bruised wrist in his hand and bringing it up to his lips. Mihawk softly kisses your skin, his arm tightening around your waist. 

You relax against him, being careful to not hurt his nuts further. He continues to kiss your wrist as his hand caresses your stomach.

“I love you…I’m sorry for everything.” He whispers in a low soothing tone through kisses.

You sigh deeply. “I love you too…”

“I’ll never do something like that again, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He says softly.

“Mmm.” Is all you manage to say, making him smile lightly. 

Mihawk puts your wrist down and wraps his other arm around you, breathing in your scent. He begins slowly kissing your neck and shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

The two of you stay in the bathtub for around 30 minutes, letting your bodies rest and soak in the heat of the water. 

When the water begins to cool, Mihawk carefully stands and helps you out, then dries you off carefully. He then dries himself off, and when he’s finished you take his hand.

“Can you stay tonight?” You say pleadingly, making his eyes soften.

“Of course, darling. I want to take care of you.” He says softly as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

You start leading him to your room in a comfortable silence, with him tightly holding onto your hand. The two of you haven't even bothered to re-dress.

The two of you make it to your room and you get into bed, pulling the covers over you. Before you know it, he’s wrapping his arms around you again and pulling you close to him. Your arms wrap around him as well. Mihawk looks into your eyes, his hands gliding over the smoothness of your skin.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Can you kiss me, Dracule?” 

He smiles, leaning in and gently kisses your cheeks, eyelids, forehead, nose. He kisses all over your face until every inch has had his lips on your skin. “I love you so damn much…is that enough kisses for you? I’ll give you hundreds, thousands, if that’s what you need.” 

You sigh, making him furrow his brow in worry. “Not good enough. You have to kiss me for every tear that’s fallen because of you.”

His eyes soften even more, slight guilt in his gaze. “I can do that, but how many would that be, my love?” 

You think really hard for a moment, looking back on all the times where you’ve cried because of his shitty behavior. After a few moments you come to a conclusion. “One thousand, six hundred and eighty three.”

Mihawks’ eyes widen the moment you announce One thousand, six hundred and eighty three, and you can tell he’s got an urge to laugh. Despite the serious night, you can’t help but be grateful that he’s amused by this. “One thousand, six hundred and eighty three, huh? Darling, are you absolutely sure you counted that many in…a few seconds?” He pinches your cheek lightly.

“Did I stutter?” You whisper, holding him tighter. 

Mihawk laughs softly, gently pinching your cheek again. “You’re adorable…but no, you didn’t stutter. I guess you’re just a fast counter.” He talks between laughter.

“So…will you do it?” You whisper, a slight smile at the corner of your lips. His laughter lighting up the room.

“I could never say no to such a wonderful request.” He giggles lightly, then leans into your neck to kiss it.

“One.” He whispers softly against your skin.

He presses another kiss into your neck. “Two”

You melt into his kisses, your eyes fluttering closed as you surrender to the feeling of his soft lips. 

“Three.”

You’re finally in his arms again.

“Four.” 

His heartbeat.

“Five.” 

His warmth.

“Six.”

His scent.

“Seven.”

His breathing.

“Eight.”

His skin.

“Nine.” 

Mihawk stops kissing your neck and moves his lips to your own. He kisses them gently, his lips moving in sync with yours for a few seconds. Both of you know you’ll be here for a while with how many kisses you demanded. 

He pulls away briefly to say…

“Ten.” 

You only want him whispering sweet things in your ear all night long, for the rest of your life. 

Notes: I had to make the ending for this really sweet, after all the angst♡ I hope you enjoyed reading! 

[leikeliscomet]

“But We Love Martha Jones!” - The Doctor Who Fandom’s Selective Memory of Racism

Be aware that this article contains explicit examples of anti-black racism and misogynoir.

Chapter 2 - Utopia-ish

The constant nitpicking of Martha Jones for reasons white female companions could get away with was blatant anti-black racism. Let’s get that bit clear first and foremost. As a Black person in fandom, watching Black characters get torn apart while never being given the grace of their non-Black castmates is an experience that’s too common. Microaggressions are more subtle so the easiest way to shut down any mentions of racism is to accuse Black fans of making things up or telling us “Well it’s not like REAL racism”. Luckily Doctor Who Tumblr birthed the Martha Jones affirmative action and Aunt Jemima “memes” so I can cross both covert and overt racism off the list. As mentioned in extensive detail in the previous chapter, plus the various Martha Jones articles written before me, the treatment Martha experienced was racist. I don’t care if you personally didn’t like her. I don’t care that you missed Rose. I don’t care that Ten is your smol bean. Martha’s treatment was racist. Freema Agyeman’s treatment was racist. It might not have been everyone. It might not have been you personally. But it was there. The fandom can never be a safe space for POC, specifically Black people if this elephant in the room can’t be addressed over a decade after it arrived.

On paper, you’d assume Martha’s rep was good because “at least she wasn’t a Black stereotype”. Some fans praised her for having a present father, not speaking MLE and not being from the ends. This goes into respectability politics but the fandom’s weirdness about Black Brits and class is not the point of this article. The point is the revisionist history of how Martha was really treated and to do that it helps to know what Black tropes are. The Mammy trope is a Black woman whose main purpose is to serve her white counterparts and during slavery, she mainly cared for the slave owners' children. She is usually fat, dark skin and asexual, not as a representation of those things but as a statement of how if she isn’t used for sexual exploitation like the Jezebel (the promiscuous, reckless, sexualised Black woman), she has no sexual value at all. Her value is serving the needs of others only. Martha doesn’t fit this trope in theory but in practice, she fulfils the sub-categories of this trope both in show and fandom: the disposable Black (girl)friend trope. She is used as Ten’s emotional punching bag before he’s ready for Donna and then Rose again. She had to endure edgy moody S3 Ten so no one else had to. She’s the excuse people use to deflect any critical analysis of how race was handled in RTD1. She’s the fandom’s excuse to deflect from their own racial biases. Racism? No way! Everybody loves Martha Jones! What do you mean?

Some parts of the fandom have tried to mend things by suggesting Martha be paired with other doctors or romantically shipping her with other characters a bit better than Mickey Smith. But does this hold up? As much as I’m a big fan NineMartha as a concept and as someone who honestly saw one-off characters like Riley Vashtee from 42 or Tallulah from Daleks in Manhattan having way more romantic chemistry with Martha than Mickey ever did, simply re-shipping Martha isn’t enough. Doctor Who’s racism isn't exclusive to one doctor, one series or one era and new Martha pairings suggest the issue was “right person, wrong doctor” instead of what the issue actually was: racism. Moffat and Chibnall’s eras weren’t full of golden Black representation either so I doubt the Martha issue would’ve magically disappeared under those two. From Nine’s hostility to Mickey, to Twelve’s hostility to Danny Pink to Thirteen handing a South Asian Spymaster to the Nazis and Eleven only travelling with POC in comics most fans haven’t heard of and being besties with Churchill, simply putting Martha with another Doctor isn’t the serve fans think it is. Even RoseMartha seems like putting a bandaid on a bullet hole. If it's not enough for Martha to be compared to Rose, put down in favour of Rose, told she isn’t Rose and told she's worse than Rose in fandom and in show over and over and over, she has to be shipped with Rose too. Martha’s a great character… as long as you can tie her to Rose… again. Even in my own article I have to talk about Rose because Rose is centred in what was supposed to be Martha’s story. A doctor-to-be Black girl from London with a hectic family meets a Time Lord and gets abducted by space rhino police at work in one day. Her main conflict isn’t balancing work and time traveller life, or fighting to get her family back together, or seeing what’s out there in the universe - it's that she isn’t “Rose” enough. The Mammy and her sons’ main thing in common is simple; how well they serve and centre the white characters. In attempts to mend Martha’s treatment she is still only valued in relation to white characters. She should’ve been with Eleven because he would’ve fucked a Black woman. Or maybe Dilfy Twelve. Or a sapphic romance with another female companion who she saw twice or doesn’t actually know. Or maybe Ten in an alternate universe where he supports #nubianqueens. None of this is done to explore sexuality or romance with Black women and is definitely not to centre Black lesbianism and bisexuality. It’s Mammy with a dash of Jezebel. It's adding romantic and sexual value on top of physical and emotional value like a crappy meal deal.

I’m tired of Black women being treated as extensions of white women both in media and in real life. I’m tired of our value being determined by how well we serve white people emotionally, physically, platonically and sexually. And I'm even more tired of white feminism especially in this fandom. It would be so easy to label this article as anti-Rose, anti-Ten or anti-Tenrose to invalidate my whole racial analysis because it's the easy way out. I’ll admit I like both characters individually but not the ship but this isn’t something I decided on since birth - it's my conclusion as a Black fan in a predominantly white fandom, watching a predominantly white show, watching the first companion of my race be told she isn’t good enough compared to the white characters, and that the hatred of her is justified for the greater good of its popular white ship. Black fans can never have this conversation without being told we’re “pitting women against each other” and that Martha and Rose hugged once in S4 so everything's hunky dory. Martha’s happy that Ten found Rose again so what’s the problem? It sends a clear message that Black women’s pain will never matter a much as white women’s feelings. “Rose is amazing! Martha’s amazing! Stop pitting women against women!” but who was pit against who in the first place? These faux girl power posts fail to acknowledge the overlap of race and gender which separates the treatment of Black and white women. It fails to acknowledge Martha’s hate was rooted in anti-black racism. It fails to acknowledge the anti-Rose pushback was in response to how the show and fandom convinced us Rose was the untouchable bar this Black woman failed to meet. It fails to acknowledge Freema Agyeman the actress was targeted not just her character. It fails because the female empowerment rhetoric that leaves the Black ones at the bottom of the pile only “empowers” women of a certain demographic.

The harassment Martha experienced was swept under the rug of “stan wars” but it was so much deeper than that. I’m not saying Martha stans are angels but there was no “Great Stan War” because the sides were never even. At the end of the day no amount of “Martha’s better than Rose” tweets will ever compare to the fact that Martha hate was rooted in misogynoir. Rose was and still is considered the greatest companion of nuwho, whilst Martha is constantly erased and undervalued. Rose’s video views and hashtags have always been bigger than Martha’s. Amy and Clara came after Martha but still surpassed her in popularity and got plenty of fan edits of “The Girl Who Waited” and “The Impossible Girl” whilst Martha was conveniently skipped in the companion lineup. The fandom’s bias still shines clearly in favour of Rose over Martha. Rose’s jealousy towards other women is justifiable and just the ups and downs of a 19-year-old whilst Martha’s is entitled bitterness. Rose’s flaws are compelling character moments and depth, Martha’s are “holding her back from being a good companion”. Hell, even Donna calling out Ten’s BS was entertaining accountability whilst Martha was just the angry Black woman. Fans will weaponise Rose’s working-class roots to imply a pro-Martha bias, failing to acknowledge the working-class to poor background of the average Black Brit, the anti-blackness middle-class Black people are not spared from, the many working-class Black characters of the show like Mickey, Bill, Rigsy and Ryan or how most fans don’t consider Martha middle class because she doesn’t fit the white British cultural stereotypes. You can't be the most loved and hated at the same time. The hard truth is Billie Piper wasn’t racially abused by Martha stans but Freema was absolutely racially abused by Rose’s and the effects of this are still around. Go into Martha Jones tags today and you’ll see snarky posts of how Ten could never love another companion like Rose. Even when Freema bravely shared her experiences of literal racism, fans were quick to yell “But I wanted Ten and Rose though” as a justification for years of misogynoir. Again, we need to address the elephant in the room instead of covering our eyes and ears to act like it’s not there. A Black character and actress was collateral damage in order for a popular white ship to rise and whilst I’m not an anti, I as a Black Doctor Who fan, I’ll never be a supporter. At the end of the day, only one of these actresses is still carrying the burden of misogynoir over 10 years since RTD1 ended. A lonely walk across the Earth yet again.

<- Chapter 1 Chapter 3 ->

[hanafubukki]

The third anniversary trailer of twst is interesting to me because of its foreshadowing/ominous feelings with the way it cuts the scenes. Well, in terms of Lilia and Malleus when you think about it.

This is, of course, going off of certain assumptions.

For one, the shadow below being Malleus and not another student 🤔 (we already saw Leona enter Ramshackle by this point and Vil and Rook is already there at the party idia and his brother are in their room and Cater and Trey are baking, so it’s highly likely that is it Malleus)

Assuming this shadow is Malleus, we see he’s alone with no one around.

Going forward to the rest of the trailer:

Someone walking up the stairs, alone. No one is next to them and the sign we saw before? Is behind them.

You’re probably wondering why do I get that ominous/foreshadowing feeling and it’s because of the next few scenes.

Vil and Rook looking towards the newcomers to the party and lo and behold.

Our faes of Diasomnia, with Lilia right there next to Malleus.

Lilia was not there before. There was no shadow of him being there at all in the beginning with the anniversary sign, and even with the stair scene, no floating lower half of said fae (no matter how high he’s floating, you should see at least a part of his body or shadow)

And we see Grim being patted by the invite.

Invites of any kind have significant meaning for Malleus. We know how much he wants to be invited and we know how they will have already been/will be used in Book 7.

So I can’t help but wonder. What could this mean?

Does this have some connection to Lilia? A foreshadowing of the future? Why isn’t Lilia there?

But then, if you recall, Malleus offered Lilia his happiest dream in book 7, one without Malleus in it.

And then the thought hit, what if? This is Malleus’ dream? One where he is invited? To a celebration where everyone can have fun and be merry?

A party that’s not celebrating his father’s departure and no one is sad at the end of it?

What if Lilia’s shadow missing is the hint to all this?

Wouldn’t that be the best way to show this? Lilia who Malleus loves so much and doesn’t want to lose and the reason why Malleus OB.

It would make sense if this was Malleus’ dream, wouldn’t it?

We all wondered why did this anniversary trailer focus only on the third years? And not the rest like previous years right?

The third years are important in the aspect that those are who Mal is “closest” with and they are his classmates who he spent all these years with (people who are not Lilia, Silver, and Sebek specifically and people who he can essentially talk to without them running away in fear as we have seen).

Another point that I believe adds onto this theory is the release date for this trailer, and in correlation, main story release.

The third anniversary trailer was released in March 2023, while Book 7 chapter 2 was released the month before, specifically 2/27/23. (Thank you Mumble for helping me find this info @irafuwas 💞💚)

Chapter 2, the chapter where Malleus puts everyone to sleep, giving them their happiest dreams. The chapter where, you know, Lilia gives Malleus an invite to his….going away party hahaha 🙃🥲

Everyone except Malleus is asleep. Now wouldn’t this be a devious way of foreshadowing on the twst devs side? A hint of not only Malleus’ dreams and the possibility of him falling asleep but also the way the invites will be used in the future (as we now see with Idia’s plan)?

This trailer being Malleus’ dream would also explain the discrepancies between the Grims in the trailer.

Despite the size change inconsistency with Grim (he has such a big head lmao), you see the outfits as well. Grim isn’t wearing his ceremonial robes (something he is so proud of and I doubt he would just take off) and he’s back to his ribbon (his everyday uniform)

Also take in the fact of the backgrounds, the one with Vil and Rook has bright colors and saturation while the other is darker with the sun setting. (Don’t get me started on the symbolism of the sun or sunset)

This can also show how it’s dream vs reality. Especially if you consider what Malleus considers a happy dream.

Malleus, who didn’t understand or, rather, can’t accept/is in denial (I’m going to run him over with Crewel’s car) that his hatching was Lilia’s happiest dream. That all that pain and suffering led to something so joyous.

He, the one who continued to offer a happy dream that didn’t include him but his parents and Silver to Lilia.

Would the bright colors not show this? How he thinks “happy” dreams should be? As oppose to reality with the darker hues in the other scene?

And then we see currently, how the twst boys are fighting/rejecting the “happy” dreams as well. Which adds onto these points as well. Them fighting against this path chosen for them.

[also, the emphasis of invites, getting along with others, being empathetic, caring (/guarding Silver), and understanding others’ views (as well as wanting to be understood) as we saw with Malleus’ tsum card adds on to this does it not? 👀🤔 Tsum tsum events, after all, does give hints to main story as well]

If this was the twst devs way of foreshadowing future events and giving us hints of Malleus’ dream, then I can’t wait to see what we have in store.

In short, no one hold me back! I have a mallet with Malleus and Lilia’s names on it and I’m not afraid to use it!!!! 😖😤

(Absjsjshs I can’t stop laughing omg, Mumble said he was ‘strangely’ invited for once and I’m dying of laughter 😂😆 *covering eyes 😅😅* he’s going to be strangely invited to Idia’s party alright absjsjffnfnf 😆🤣😅)

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 2: Just Didn’t Think You’d Remember

You and Joel reconnect. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through ch. 1, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 4.7K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

There was a child staring at you. 

It took you half a second to process that fact, the alcohol from the night before making your head pound and stomach turn. It also didn’t help that you didn’t really know any children so you weren’t sure you’d ever woken up by one sitting just inches from your face, watching you intently. At least, not recently. It wasn’t exactly something you were expecting. 

“Hi!” she said brightly. 

“What the hell…” 

“I don’t think you’re allowed to say that in front of me,” she cut you off, still watching you intently, her curls bouncing as she cocked her head. “At least my dad tells my uncle that all the time when he says that. Why are you on my couch?” 

You lifted your head a little bit and dropped back on the pillow when it made your stomach turn. You were under a vaguely familiar crocheted blanket in a room you absolutely did not recognize and you had no idea where to even begin. 

“Well, kid…” 

“Sarah,” she cut you off, still smiling. There was a gap in her smile and her front teeth were still a bit too big for her face. 

“Sarah,” you repeated. “I don’t even know where I am so you might know better than me…” 

“My dad’s friends who sleep over usually stay in his room,” she said, sitting back from you a bit. She was perched on the edge of a dated coffee table, her skinny legs sticking out straight in front of her from a pair of bright blue shorts, a matching jersey with a soccer ball on the front of it on top. “He tries to act like I don’t know about them though. So it’s weird you’re out here, I don’t usually get to meet his friends.” 

“Right,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your head spun. You felt fully clothed under the blanket so you didn’t think you’d had sex with anyone. Which, since you didn’t remember fucking anyone, was a good thing. But that meant you’d wound up at some guy’s house - a guy who had a kid - and didn’t know how. Or why. Or who. “And… Who’s your dad?”

 “Hey, Baby Girl,” Joel rushed over, bending over to get on Sarah’s level. “Pretty sure told you to eat breakfast, not bother my friend…” 

“I’m not bothering her!” She protested, turning her big brown eyes to you. “Am I?” 

You were about to agree with her but Joel didn’t give you the chance. 

“Do you or do you not want braids for the tournament?” He asked. “Because I’m not gonna have time to braid all that hair of yours if you’re sittin’ in here, goofing off, instead of eating your cereal. So. Gotta pick. Goof off or braids. Which is it?” 

She sighed heavily. 

“Braids.” 

“OK then,” he said, straightening up to his full height. He somehow looked even more massive from your position on the couch as he stood next to a little girl. “That means you gotta get movin’.” 

She got up with a huff and tilted her head back to look at the ceiling as she stomped away. 

“Never let me do anything cool,” she muttered. Joel just shook his head and smiled a little, watching her for a moment before he turned his attention back to you. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said. “Told her to let you sleep…” 

“No,” you shook your head a little and sat up, your stomach churning. You blinked for a second, the light from the windows still holding that soft, hazy quality the early morning sun had. “S’fine…” 

You started piecing together the night before, at the bar. Joel coming up to you, the two of you having drinks that devolved into doing shots and, at some point, you forgot your address. You didn’t remember ending up at his house, though. 

And you certainly didn’t remember him saying anything about a kid. 

“How you feeling?” He asked, his hands in the pockets of his cotton sleep pants and an amused smile on his face. “You seemed to be having a hell of a time last night.” 

“Been better,” you replied. “Jesus, I am not 17 anymore…”

Joel laughed. 

“Yeah, tell me about it.” 

“Hey Dad!” Sarah called from another room. You winced a little at the sound, your head pounding. 

Joel looked up, toward where her voice was coming from. 

“What’s up, Kiddo?”

“Do I have to eat the apple, too?” 

“Is it on your placemat?” He called back to her. 

She sighed, so loudly you could hear it. 

“Yes.” 

Joel shrugged, even though you were the only one who could see it. 

“Well, there’s your answer,” he said. “C’mon, you’re about to go run for hours, you need fuel. Eat at least half the apple, then I’ll braid your hair.” 

He looked back at you. 

“Coffee?” 

“Probably good,” you said, trying to find the will to get to your feet and looking down at the blanket that was now half on your lap and half on the couch. You realized why it was familiar now. You’d passed out under it many times, it had been the blanket that Mrs. Miller kept draped over the back of the furniture in the living room. It had just been a while. 

Joel held out a hand and you considered it for a moment. Joel was offering you a hand. To touch you. Though, you realized, you’d probably touched him at least some the night before. You were a cuddly drunk. But still. It was Joel. The guy you hadn’t even spoken to in more than a decade, the guy you’d spent just about all of high school in love with, the guy you lost your virginity to on prom night like some kind of inane cliche you’d tell one of your students to rethink if they turned it in as a piece of writing. Touching him felt monumental. 

You took his hand. 

He tugged you to your feet and you draped the blanket on the end of the couch before trailing behind him to the kitchen.

Sarah sat on one side of the table, intently reading the back of a cereal box, 2/3rds of an apple sitting on a paper towel next to her bowl. You sat across from her, hoping you didn’t look too haggard and ridiculous, and Joel went to the coffee pot on the counter, pouring two cups before adding milk and sugar to one. He stirred it and set it in front of you before sitting at the head of the table with a mug of his own. You just looked at him for a moment. He frowned. 

“What?” He asked. “Take it different now?” 

“No,” you said, picking it up and taking a sip of it. “Just didn’t think you’d remember.” 

He shrugged, taking a sip from his own cup before leaning over to look at Sarah’s bowl. 

“Need two more bites of apple and four more shredded wheat,” he said, checking his watch. “And we’ve got 20 minutes before Emily’s here to pick you up.” 

“She’s always late…” 

“Not countin’ on that,” he said. “Come on, kiddo.” 

She rolled her eyes but made a show of taking another bite of apple before going back to the cereal box. 

“What do they put on the back of cereal boxes now, anyway?” You asked. “When I was a kid there were puzzles and things.” 

“Stuff like that,” Sarah said. “But they’re stupid and easy. I’m trying to figure out if they just took a picture of one shredded wheat and used it over and over or if there are different ones.” 

You stifled a laugh and raised your eyebrows at Joel who just shrugged. Sarah took another bite of apple - an almost laughably small one - and looked away from the box to look at you. 

“So what’s your name, anyway? And why are you at my house? And…” 

“Eat your cereal,” Joel cut her off. She sighed but obeyed. “And this is Goldie. She’s a friend of mine from when I was a kid. We hung out last night but it was too late for her to drive home and be safe so she stayed here.” 

Sarah frowned and swallowed. 

“Goldie is a weird name.” 

“Sarah,” Joel scolded. 

“What!” She looked at him. “It is!” 

“That’s because it’s not actually my name,” you said. “It’s just what your dad and his family call me, like a nickname.” 

“Oh,” she said. “OK. How come I haven’t met you before?” 

You glanced at Joel who looked back at you, seemingly at as much of a loss as you were. 

“I’ll tell you if you eat two more shredded wheat,” you said. She scrunched her freckled nose for a second before obeying. You resisted the urge to laugh again. “I lived pretty far away until recently. I just moved back, so I haven’t seen your dad in a very long time.” 

She nodded slowly and swallowed before dropping her spoon in her bowl and tilting it toward Joel. 

“Have I met the dad requirement?” She asked, sass and sarcasm evident. 

“We’ll accept it because of the time crunch,” he said. “Run and brush your teeth - actually brush ‘em don’t just run the water - and grab me two hair ties, your brush, and the gel.” 

She shoved her chair back from the table and ran off, pounding up some unseen stairs and slamming a door behind her. 

“Jesus, need to bottle her energy…” Joel groaned, rubbing his eyes before taking a sip of coffee. You just stared at him. He frowned. “What?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Joel,” you said, incredulous. “Maybe the entire child you have that you didn’t think to fucking mention?” 

He winced a little at that. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “Kinda thought you’d sleep through gettin’ her out the door. You were pretty damn out of it…” 

“You said you weren’t married!” You hissed, going back over the conversation from the night before that you could remember. 

“I’m not,” he shrugged. “Don’t need to be married to have a kid.” 

“OK but where’s her mom?” You asked, keeping your voice low. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he shrugged again. “She left years ago. Been just me and Sarah since she was about four months old.”

“Joel,” you gaped at him. “You’re a dad. To a kid.” 

“Yeah,” he laughed a little. “Tends to happen when you have one…” 

Sarah came storming down the stairs and ran over to Joel, hairbrush and gel in hand. 

“Alright,” he said, standing up with a groan and taking the supplies from Sarah. “Couch, let’s go. We got maybe ten minutes, ain’t doin’ that zig-zag part you like…” 

“But Dad, they’re always late!” She groaned, heading for the living room. You picked up your coffee and followed, watching as she flopped on the couch where you’d spent the night. “There’s so much time!” 

“You are not making anybody any later,” he said, balancing the bottle of gel on the back of the couch before starting to separate her hair into two parts with the brush. “Hair tie.” 

He held out his hand and she slid one off her wrist and dropped it into his open palm. He took it and tied half of her curls off to one side before focusing on the other side. 

“You excited for your games?” He asked as he started near her forehead with a chunk of hair, his large, thick fingers moving with almost surprising deftness through her curls, adding more to each strand as he went. 

“I think so,” she said. “Coach keeps acting like we’re going to win but I dunno. We’re playing the Lightning for round two and they kicked our butt last time.” 

“That was a few months ago, right?” He asked, working his way down her head. “Y’all have gotten better.” 

“I guess,” she said. “But so have they, right?” 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Hair tie.” 

He held his hand out again, half of her hair now gathered in a French braid that reached the top of her shoulder. She pulled another hair tie off her wrist and handed it to him. He tied off the braid and moved on to the other side. 

“Gonna behave yourself today?” He asked. “Listen to your coach and Emily’s mom?” 

“Yes,” you could hear her eye roll from across the room. 

“Good,” he said. “Expect you to be on your best behavior…” 

“But I like my worst behavior.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” he said, finishing the matching braid on the other side of her head. He squeezed gel into his hand and smoothed it over her hair. “Mean it, Kiddo. Be good. Watch that mouth of yours.” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Sarah jumped up, running to answer it. There was a little blonde girl waiting on the other side of it and a woman who looked like a harried, older clone of her was standing at her back. 

“Hi Joel,” she smiled. “Hope we haven’t kept you waiting!” 

“Not at all,” he said. “Right on time. Sarah, got your stuff? Grabbed your lunch?” 

“Oh crap,” she darted past you, back toward the kitchen, and came running back with a lunch bag. Joel picked up her duffle bag from the entryway floor and put it over her shoulder. “OK, got it!” She smiled. 

“Good,” he kissed the crown of her head. “Alright, have fun, Baby Girl. Kick ass, play nice.” 

“Kick ass, play nice,” she repeated before leaning around him. “Bye, Goldie!” She looked back to Joel. “Bye, Dad!” 

The woman - Emily’s mom, apparently - looked you up and down and you smiled tightly at her. You just heard her turning to Sarah when Joel closed the door as the group headed to the car. 

“So who’s your dad’s friend?” 

You flinched as the door closed and Joel turned to look at you. 

“Breakfast?” He asked. “I do got shit besides shredded wheat. Looks like you might need some grease to soak up that liquor.” 

“I seem to recall that you’re the one who wanted to do shots,” you replied. “But yeah, I won’t argue with food.” Your stomach churned. “Or I think I won’t, anyway.” 

Joel jerked his head toward the kitchen and headed that way, you trailing behind him. He just nodded at the table and you sat down, holding your coffee cup in both hands. You watched as Joel got eggs and bacon out of the fridge and started cooking. It took effort to not look surprised. You weren’t sure Joel had even knew how to boil water when you knew him. Of course, that had been a while ago. And he apparently had a kid to look after so he had to have picked up a few things. 

“So,” you said after a few awkward minutes. “Last night…” 

He nodded and took a swig of coffee. 

“What about it?” 

“I don’t remember all of it,” you said slowly. “And I’m pretty sure we didn’t but… did… did we…” 

“You askin’ if we fucked?” He looked at you brows raised. Your face got hot and you nodded, resisting the urge just run away now and pretend you’d never met Joel Miller to begin with. He laughed once. “No, Goldie. We didn’t fuck. I tend to prefer my women aware enough to actually know what’s goin’ on, thank you very much. You weren’t exactly clearin’ that bar.” 

You relaxed a little. 

“Thank fuck for that much,” you took another sip of coffee and Joel put bagels in the toaster. “So… You’re a dad.” 

He laughed a little and cracked some eggs in a pan. 

“I’m a dad.” 

“How’d that happen?” 

He looked at you for a moment. 

“You telling me a fancy college professor doesn’t know about the birds and the bees?” He teased. “When two grown ups love each other very much…” 

“I will come dump coffee down your shirt.” 

He laughed and shook his head. 

“Just happened,” he said after a moment. “One of those things, I guess. Not like it was on purpose but…” 

“How old is she?” You asked. 

“Turned 11 in July,” he replied. 

You did a little math in your head and you laughed once, loud, before clamping your hand over your mouth. 

“What?” He frowned at you. 

“Oh that’s rich,” you shook your head, sitting back fully in your chair. 

“What?” He asked again, looking genuinely confused. 

“If she turned 11 in July, that means the last time I saw you, you had a knocked up girlfriend at home,” you tried to stifle your laughter and failed. “Oh man and you were on MY ass about my life choices…” 

“Hey, I was right though,” he pointed the spatula at you. “Fuck that guy.” 

The toaster popped and he pulled the bagels out, smearing cream cheese on them before putting an egg on each one, followed by some bacon and a slice of cheese. He finished it with salt and pepper and put a plate in front of you before sitting next to you. You just stared at the sandwich for a moment and he frowned. 

“What?” 

“How do you remember this shit?” You asked, looking back up at him. You remembered trying to convince him to even try a bagel sandwich with cream cheese when you were hung over teenagers on a Saturday morning and Joel reluctantly agreeing that it was delicious. 

He shrugged. 

“You had good taste in breakfast sandwiches.”

You took a bite and moaned a little in spite of yourself. Joel looked at you, brows raised and mouth full and you felt your cheeks get hot again. 

“Sorry,” you said. “Just been a while since I had one of these.” 

“What, fuckin’ Brad not much of a cook?” He asked. 

You laughed a little. 

“Not of things like this,” you said. “No.” 

He nodded slowly before setting his sandwich down. 

“Alright,” he said. “Two options. One, we get you an Uber so you can get on with whatever you famous fuckin’ authors do on random Saturdays.” 

You rolled your eyes and Joel ignored you. 

“Two, you wait until I can get my truck runnin’ and then I drive you home.” 

You frowned a little. 

“What’s wrong with your truck?” 

“Needs a new radiator,” he said. “S’why I’m not going to Sarah’s tournament today, just got the part delivered yesterday, haven’t had the chance to fix it. Can help, if you want.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Like old times.” 

He smiled back. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“Well, as it happens, famous authors don’t do much on Saturdays,” you said. “We pretty much sit at home and procrastinate on writing.” 

“Sounds like bullshit.” 

“It is. But it means I am free to hand you wrenches.” 

He smiled. 

“Then let’s go, grease monkey.” 

***

Well that hadn’t been how Joel thought the morning was going to go. 

You’d been dead to the world when he got Sarah up. You’d always been a heavy sleeper and he doubted that had changed much in the past 15 years. When you passed out on his couch in the afternoons as a kid, an atom bomb couldn’t wake you up. When the two of you would sneak out to go get drunk and star gaze at the park, you’d fall asleep curled against his side and he’d have to be the one to set alarms on his shitty flip phone to get you both up. You slept right through them. 

So when he’d found you talking with Sarah on the couch, he hadn’t been sure what to do. 

But you’d solved that problem for him, taking the fact that he had a child he hadn’t told you about in stride. At least until Sarah was out of earshot, anyway. 

And Joel wasn’t about to tell you that you’d done the math about her conception wrong. That, when it came down to it, you were the reason he had a daughter in the first place. 

It was surprising, how easy it was to fall into your friendship again. Like no time had passed, like the last time you’d spoken to him it hadn’t devolved into screaming and tears.

“Gimme the 3/4 inch wrench,” he held his hand out below the front of the truck and watched what little of you he could see as you rifled through the tool box on the ground and dropped the wrench into his waiting palm. “Thanks.” 

This felt like old times, too. His truck in high school had been a beater on a good day. The damn thing needed some kind of work every other day, it seemed. But you were always happy to be there for it, handing him tools on demand and reading him questions from his upcoming history exam in between. He got so good with cars that he worked on yours, too, when you finally got one. Your shitty sedan needed just as much work as his shitty pickup but he liked feeling like he was doing something that was keeping you safe. Like he was doing his job, making sure your car wasn’t going to break down on you. 

“So,” he said as he waited for the coolant to drain. “Divorced, huh?” 

You sighed. 

“Yup.” 

“What’s the appropriate thing to say?” He asked. “I’m sorry or congratulations?” 

You laughed dryly. 

“That’s a great question. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” 

“Flathead.” 

You took the wrench from him. There was a clattering sound as you dug through the toolbox again and then you put the screwdriver in his waiting hand. 

“Can I ask what happened?”

You sighed again. 

“I’m still not sure I really know,” you said. “Things seemed fine. Great, actually. I’d just sold my book and was promoted to a tenure track role at the university and things just kind of… I don’t know, devolved? I almost wish it imploded so I could figure out what the breaking point was. It more just faded.” 

He wasn’t sure if he could say he was sorry without lying. He pulled the air intake duct and held the screwdriver out. 

“Pliers.” 

You traded out the tools and he went to work on the coolant hose. 

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” he said after a minute. “How are you doin’ now?” 

You were silent for a bit. 

“Divorce is a strange thing,” you said eventually. “I was married for 10 years. I know that he started Lipitor last year to keep his cholesterol under control and that he likes his french fries just this side of burnt and that he gets up like clockwork at 3:45 a.m. to pee. But I have no idea what state he’s even in right now. I know all these things about him but I don’t know him at all any more. It’s like he’s all that’s ever happened to me and like he was nothing to me at all. I’m not sure what to do with that.” 

Joel held out the pliers. 

“10 millimeter wrench.” 

You traded him tools again. 

“He why you’re in Austin?” He asked eventually. 

“Something like that,” you said. “I couldn’t stay teaching at the same school, not when… He’s getting married again. We haven’t even finalized the paperwork but he’s already replaced me and I couldn’t just sit there and watch it…” 

Joel slid out from below the truck to look at you for a moment. 

“He’s a fucking jackass,” he said bluntly. 

“Thanks,” you smiled a little. “Anyway, Anna’s here. She’s been needing some help for a while so I figured why not now, you know?” 

Joel slid back beneath the truck. 

“Sure,” he said, removing the fuse box. 

“Can I ask what happened with Sarah’s mom?” You asked after a moment. 

He held out the wrench. 

“Flathead again.” You traded the tools out, your fingers brushing his skin. He worked on the fan assembly. “And you can, just not that interestin’. We were seeing each other, pretty casually. Shit happened, she got pregnant, I panicked but she didn’t want an abortion so I tried to get my shit together. Then Sarah was born and… fuck, it’s like everything made sense, you know? She was perfect from the first damn second. Like everything I ever fucked up was supposed to get fucked up in just that way so she could be here. Her mom didn’t really feel that way, though. Think she thought it was gonna be easy for some reason and it wasn’t easy, not at all. 

“Scared the shit out of me when she left,” he continued. “Didn’t tell me where the fuck she was goin’ or what she was doin’, just vanished. Took me a few days to figure out she wasn’t dead but she basically told me she’d sign all her parental rights away. She didn’t want to be a mom and even if she did, she didn’t want to be a mom with me. So me n’Sarah moved on.” 

You were quiet for a moment. He held out the screwdriver. 

“Keep that close,” he said. “Need the 11 millimeter socket.”

You took the screwdriver and gave him the socket. 

“I’m sorry you went through that, Joel,” you said after a moment. “That must have been really hard…” 

“It took us a while to figure each other out,” he said. “But… I dunno. Worked out in the end. Think it was supposed to be just me and her. Works best that way. Now if I could get the rest of my life to go that damn smooth I’d be set. Flathead again.” 

You gave him the screwdriver and the two of you were quiet for a bit, the only sounds the sounds of Joel working on the truck. 

“What’d you think of Curtis & Viper 8?” You asked after a minute of not quite awkward silence. 

“Oh lord,” he laughed. “That training montage?” 

“Such bullshit, right?” You laughed back. “I know they weren’t really going for realism but there’s a limit, even for those…” 

“Should get drunk sometime when we’re not hung over,” he said. “Watch it again, I’d kill for your commentary on that shit…” 

“Oh you have to be drunk to watch that again,” you were still laughing. “But I’m in.” 

Joel smiled, even though you couldn’t see him. 

“Cool.” 

The time it took to replace the damn radiator flew by and, before too long, he had a working car again. But you were still at his house hours later, the two of you talking about nothing and everything at all. Eventually, you checked the time and sighed. 

“I should really get home,” you said. “Actually get changed, I probably smell.” 

“Nah,” Joel replied. “You forget that I played football with Josh Samuels, talk about smell…” 

You laughed at that and Joel relished the sound, the seemingly unbridled joy you had when you laughed like that, how he wanted to give you whatever you wanted just to make you laugh like that again. 

“I’ll drive you,” Joel said. “Assuming you can remember your damn address this time.” 

Joel drove you to a tree-filled area not far from the school, the neighborhood full of old builds and lots of reasons to keep the trees, your house a little bungalow in dark brick and ivy. He had the strange urge to go inside and check and make sure your electrical was run properly, that you had working heat for the coming winter, that you had some food on hand. 

“Thanks, for everything,” you smiled a little. “I had fun. A lot of fun.” 

“Me too,” he smiled back. “I’m glad I ran into you, Goldie.” 

You opened the door part way but froze with your hand on the handle. 

“Can…” you looked nervous. “Would it be OK if we did this again sometime? Maybe not the truck care part but the other parts. But I’d be fine with truck care, too.” 

“Sure, Goldie,” he smiled. “I’d like that.” 

You smiled. 

“Good,” you said. “It’s really good to see you, Joel.” 

“You too, Goldie.” 

He watched you walk up to your front door and let yourself in, staying outside until he knew that you were safely back at home.

Next Chapter

A/N: Y'all, I love having Joel dad. Him and Sarah are just two peas in their little pod and I'm in love with them.

I hope you liked this chapter! I'm really enjoying these characters and I'm so looking forward to exploring everything they mean to each other and everything they've been through both together and apart.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy the ride. Love you!

[yuikomorii]

Helloo! I don’t know if you remember me but I sent you once something about Yui in LE and now, after I played some routes, I can confirm that she’s my last fav Yui. 😬

// I have a complicated relationship with LE Yui, haha. I appreciate her for being more lively than CL Yui, but she mostly gave me the ick because she was definitely one of the most annoying LE characters.

I typically don't mind characters that are represented as jerks and upright mean, since you know what to expect from them, but I really dislike when characters who are portrayed as goody-shoes, do such messed-up and morally wrong things.

When I first went through LE, I didn’t start with Ayato’s route, given that I heard from many people about how tough it is and I wasn't emotionally prepared, so I started with others. I didn't like how she talked ill about her lover behind his back (more than once) and how her foolishness caused her to disclose critical secrets to people she shouldn't have and get into more troubles than normal. Nonetheless, I didn't think she was too bad… until Ruki's route, where she convinced the Mukami brothers that Karl wasn't a bad person because he returned their lives to "redeem" himself when we all know he only used them as pawns. But, if I thought THIS was bad, Ayato's LE route came.

~Things wrong with Yui in Ayato’s LE route~

1. Yui tried to convince Ayato that despite the fact that Cordelia abused him, “she only did it because she cared about his future”. And then had the audacity to act surprised when he started feeling sick.

2. The main reason why Ayato didn’t want to trust Richter, wasn’t necessarily his trauma, but the fact Richter actually hurt Yui and, in his book someone hurting his girlfriend is unforgivable. Nevertheless, when his brothers started a scandal about Richter and all ganged up against Ayato, not even letting him express HIS point of view, Yui did nothing but stand there staring. Although, after Ayato blew up the mansion again as a result of reactive abuse, she acknowledged that his brothers attacking him like that wasn’t right, but she still didn’t say it out loud to defend him, when she knew the reason behind his actions.

3. After Reiji and Ruki became Ayato's enemies, she went to them without telling him, which made him concerned, to convey her man's sadness and loneliness. I'm sorry, but this was the dumbest plan ever, considering that it was evident they wouldn't have cared about it, and hearing such a thing made them even more eager to mock and plot his downfall. In the end, despite her good intentions, she solved nothing but made things worse, including being bitten by Reiji, which caused Ayato to lose his mind. Based on the previous events, I'm not shocked he believed she would betray him.

4. The scenes in which Ayato began acting coldly towards her were my favorite parts of his LE route. In other LE routes, after doing or saying stupid things, the disputes were resolved in the next chapter or those actions were never mentioned, but I enjoyed how she was actually humbled here. I love Yui in general, but in LE, she deserved this treatment.

5. I assumed she had learnt her lesson, given that Ayato still cared for her despite his coldness, but then she goes to the Viboras to prove herself worthy of his trust. I liked how she tried to solve something (even if she didn't), but what made her behavior even WORSE was that 1) she justified Ruki giving Ayato a hard time and joining forces with the Church to kill him, and 2) she talked ill behind her lover's back despite telling Ayato the exact opposite face to face. I understand that Ayato didn't act very king-like, but at the same time, no one truly took him seriously or believed in him. Also, idk, but she should have tried to defend him, at least this time, instead of empathizing more with someone who hurt her man—?

Credit to: dialovers-translations on Tumblr

I also find it amusing how LE is the only main DL game with no wedding at all, especially since Ayato was usually the one to marry her. I think he secretly didn't want it in LE, given that he didn’t even think of proposing. :”)

She’s definitely not a bad person though, but she kinda started acting up. I think that’s another reason why I don’t want a new game. I’m afraid they’ll ruin her even more. T-T

[nightghoul381]

Ellis Twilight~ Main Route Chapter 2

Disclaimer for route warnings | Masterlist

Additional Content Warnings: None

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Part 1

Ellis: “Thank you for waiting, Jude.”

Jude: “…Ah?”

When Jude saw that Ellis had brought me with him, he looked stunned for a moment--,

Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything.

(--Or rather)

Kate: “I will be accompanying you as fairytale keeper, I look forward to working with you.”

Jude: “……Tsk”

It seemed like Jude understood ‘there’s no point in saying anything’ and clicked his tongue at Ellis, completely ignoring me.

Ellis: “Last night I delivered the offer to the procurement department to sail today.”

Jude: “Obviously. If it doesn’t arrive first thing in the morning, your pay’s getting cut.”

(They both work for Crown, but they also work for the company…. They’re both very busy.)

I follow along with Ellis behind Jude, silently observing so as not to disturb him.

After observing I found out--,

Jude runs Raven, a diversified trading company,

It was said that the company had branches overseas and was doing extensive business.

Having business meetings in the VIP room of one of London’s best department stores or with the inspection staff at London port…,

The time spent following the two men flies by in the blink of an eye.

And the way the two of them work together…. For example.

Jude: “There will be no transaction until you give me an advance notice.”

Jude: “Of course, since you acted unethically. If you don’t want to pay off your debts, you should just cough up your blood and make up for it.”

Jude, with his sharp tongue and sharp mind,

He was admired by his business partners, envied by his business rivals, and revered by his employees.

On the other hand--.

Ellis: “Okay, I’ll take care of the rest.”

Ellis: “It’s easy to make mistakes in this document. I’ll explain what you don’t understand and we’ll fix it together.”

Ellis, a soft-spoken and attentive person, was loved by everyone, both inside and outside the company, wherever he went.

(They’re complete opposites.)

Meanwhile, Big Ben’s hour hand had passed its peak.

Jude: “The head office is up next. I don’t know what they’ll say if I show up with extras.’

Ellis: “Mmhmm, got it.”

Kate: “Thank you for letting me accompany you.”

Jude: “…Ha. I can’t wait to see if you can say the same thing the next time we meet.”

(What does that mean…?)

I tilt my head, not understanding the meaning of his words.

Jude: “You brought her here, you wipe her ass. I ain’t doing it.”

Ellis: “Yeah… that’s the intention.”

(…It seems like Ellis understands what he means.)

When Jude leaves without even glancing at me, Ellis turns to me.

Ellis: “You must be tired. Sorry for dragging you around.”

Kate: “No not at all! I’m a physically fit person from my time as a postal worker.”

Ellis: “I see, that’s good…. Well then, by the way.”

Ellis: “Can you hang out with me just a little longer?”

Part 2

After asking me to hang out with him a little longer—

(Why are we here…!?)

It was the post office where I worked.

As I hesitated at the entrance, Ellis turned around.

Ellis: “Is something wrong?”

(That’s what I want to know…)

Kate: “Since it’s my workplace, I know a lot of people… but is it okay if I meet with them before the month is up?”

Ellis: “Victor said there were no restrictions other than going out alone, so I guess it’s okay.”

The answer came back a little more relaxed than I had expected, and I couldn’t help but blink.

(That’s not what the person being watched would say…is it okay??)

Ellis: “I have some mail I want to send. I’ll take care of it, so you do whatever you like.”

Kate: “Okay…”

Then, Ellis heads to the counter, leaving me there.

(What if I ask someone I know for help and confidential information is leaked…?)

I can’t hide my confusion at how relaxed my ‘surveillance’ is.

(At least with Ellis… I guess that means he trusts me not to do that.)

(Or--)

(If the information does get leaked, they can eliminate everyone who knows about it, including me…)

--“Shall I kill her?”

When I suddenly remembered that he had said something like that and shook my head in a panic…

Coworker with braids: “Kate!?”

Kate: “Ah.”

Coworker with braids: “I thought so, it is you! Hey everyone, Kate is here!”

At the sound of her voice, her coworkers noticed and suddenly gathered around.

Redhead Coworker: “Kaaate, why are you suddenly working at the palace?”

Black-eyed coworker: “Everyone was worried.”

(You were worried just because I suddenly stopped coming to work.)

(I can’t tell you guys, especially not the truth.)

(I don’t even know for certain if I’ll be able to come back safely in a month.)

(But…)

I don’t want to worry, so I swallow my anxiety down.

Kate: “I’m fine. Though, it’s still my first day and I don’t know what’s left and right.”

Kate: “I’m sure it will work out somehow.”

Coworker with braids: “Well, since you turned Kramer into a good customer, I’m sure you’ll be fine no matter where you go.”

Redhead Coworker: “When you suddenly disappeared, I thought you were in trouble. I was lonely.”

Kate: “That… I’m really sorry. It was something beyond my control.”

Coworker with braids: “Well, it’s not like you can refuse an order from the palace.”

Black-eyed coworker: “But I’m rooting for you, Kate.”

Redhead Coworker: “Hey, take this!”

Redhead Coworker: “We all bought things so we could give it to you if you stopped by. I’m glad we were able to give it to you--”

Kate: “Ehh… this much?”

Presents are piling up in my arms.

A blanket, cookies from my favorite store, and a letter from a coworker.

Kate: “Thank you…”

I hold my hands, full of happiness, but I feel like I might drop something if I move, so I can’t move at all…

Ellis: “I’ll hold it. Give it to me.”

The gifts were taken by the person beside me.

All of my colleagues’ eyes turned to Ellis.

Coworker with braids: “Wait…who!? Are you Kate’s boyfriend!?”

Redhead coworker: “Oh, I know this guy! He’s the one who protects that scary trader!”

The whole thing turned into a commotion that felt like someone had upset a beehive.

Coworker with braids: “Kate, please explain your relationship with this handsome man!”

Kate: “Oh, uhh… I know him through my work with the palace, we just met yesterday.”

Coworker with braids: “Hmmmm, you seem like you’re pretty close to me.”

Redhead Coworker: “Suspicious…!”

Kate: “Hey, everyone, calm down…”

While I was calming down my excited colleagues, Ellis took the remaining gifts from my arms.

Ellis: “Sorry… I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss. I’ll be waiting outside.”

Part 3

Ellis: “Sorry… I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss. I’ll be waiting outside.”

Kate: “Ah…. I’m so sorry! I’ll be out right away.”

Ellis: “It’s okay, take your time.”

I gave a small not to everyone and saw Ellis heading outside.

(I made you worry…)

Coworker with braids: “So, you’ll be getting married before returning…?”

Redhead coworker: “Congratulations.”

Kate: “Ah, that’s not true…!”

--In the end, the commotion suddenly died down with the director’s voice coming from the back and telling us to leave it at that.

When I went outside after exchanging goodbyes with my coworkers, I found Ellis holding my packages, leaning against a street light and waiting for me.

(Even from a distance, it looks like picture.)

With his supple body and long limbs, his appearance stands out when you see him around town.

Kate: “Sorry for making you wait.”

Ellis: “Not at all… You could have talked more.”

Kate: “It’s okay! Um, my colleagues said something really rude…”

Even though I only work with him, they may have made him feel uncomfortable by calling him my boyfriend.

(I wonder if there’s anything I can do to apologize… Ah that’s right!)

Kate: “There’s a delicious baguette shop near here. As an apology let me treat you there.”

Ellis: “…”

His light filled eyes stare intently at me, as if he’s discovered something.

Ellis: “I think I understand a little bit better why you’ve received so many presents.”

Kate: “Eh….?”

Ellis, holding a large bag full of presents from my coworkers, stepped toward me…

And brought his face close enough that our foreheads touched.

Ellis: “No. You don’t have to buy me anything, but I’d be interested in the restaurants you recommend.”

(… I  don’t really understand you, Ellis.)

However, his kindness definitely touched my heart.

As proof of that, the second time I shared a meal with Ellis, we talked much more lively than we had at breakfast--.

Kate: “Wow, it’s already this late…?”

Ellis: “…Let’s get back to the castle quickly.”

Ellis looked at the cityscape that was starting to get dark and muttered to himself.

This was the first time I’d heard a slightly urgent tone in his voice, and I was immediately aware of how worked up he was.

(We ended up hanging out for this long, but maybe he had something planned for tonight.)

Kate: “If we go down this alley, we can take a shortcut.”

Using the familiarity I had acquired during my postal delivery experience, I ventured into the narrow alley.

Ellis: “Ah…”

Ellis: “…Well, I guess it will be okay if we’re together.”

I walk quickly through the alleyway, which has become dark due to the lack of sunlight.

There was only a little time left before I could reach the bright street.

Man with Hunting Hat: “…”

Suddenly, a man appeared blocking the path, and I immediately tried to avoid him by moving to the other side of the road, but…

(Huh…?)

The man’s foot blocked my path.

Feeling something strange in the air, I turned around and saw two men appear from behind me.

Man with Hunting Hat: “You Jude Jazza’s girl?”

Part 4

Man with Hunting Hat: “You Jude Jazza’s girl?”

(Jude?)

Kate: “No, I’m not, but… who are you?”

Man with hunting hat: “I’ll check the facts later. Capture her.”

The three men suddenly took something out of their pockets and moved to attack me.

(Huh---What!?)

Ellis: “Kate, please hold this for just a little while.”

Kate: “Wha…!”

I was confused when I was given the bundle containing the presents from my co-workers,

The black-bladed knife that Ellis pulled out knocked the knife of the man in front away.

Ellis: “It might be a little scary, but it’ll be over soon.”

(…)

While I was at a loss for words, he kept knocking out the men one by one, and just as he said, it was ‘over soon’

Ellis: “…Good.”

He lined up the unconscious men closely along the side of the road.

As if to finish off, Ellis’ hand touched the top of their heads—

The wrists of the unconscious men snapped together as if they were in prayer.

--Choices—

1. Are you a wizard?

2. Did you use tools?

** 3. Amazing! +4 +4 **

--

Kate: “Amazing…! What did you do just now?”

Ellis: “If I touch the top of their head, I can restrain their wrists like this.”

(I remember…)

--‘Cursed’ people have abilities that normal humans can’t possess.

Roger’s voice echoes in my ears.

Kate: “Is that… your ability, Ellis?”

Ellis: “Yeah. That’s right. I don’t need a rope, so it makes times like this easy.”

Ellis came over smiling as if he had completed his work,

He suddenly snatched the baggage from my arms again.

Ellis: “Jude attracts grudges everywhere, so he gets attacked like this often.”

Ellis: “It was unusual for him to bring a woman around with him, so I think they misunderstood.”

(Grudge… I see.)

I understand that somehow, this is the result of observing their work during the day.

(It must be difficult for a trading company to be attacked like this on a daily basis.)

Ellis: “…I’m sorry.”

Kate: “Ellis, you don’t need to apologize! Thank you for protecting me.”

But Ellis slightly lowered his eyebrows and shook his head.

Ellis: “Actually, I could have predicted this. I knew this could have happened if I took you out.”

Ellis: “But… When you found out I was going to work today, you looked sad.”

Ellis: “I brought you here because of my selfishness… That’s why I’m sorry.”

Part 5

Ellis: “Actually, I could have predicted this. I knew this could have happened if I took you out.”

Ellis: “But… When you found out I was going to work today, you looked sad.”

Ellis: “I brought you here because of my selfishness… That’s why I’m sorry.”

(Ellis…)

You say you’re selfish, but I know that everything you did today was for me.

I already knew more than enough.

(He gave me breakfast, talked to me about everyone in Crown, let me accompany him to work…)

(Perhaps, that’s why he even took me to the post office.)

Kate: “Today was a happy day…so you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

I smiled at Ellis, wanting to tell him that I appreciated his kindness.

Ellis: “…Right. Good.”

A warm smile appeared on Ellis’ lips—like the last light of the sun…

Maybe it’s because the approaching dusk was making me nervous—strangely I felt a buzz in my chest.

When I returned to my room, I unwrapped the presents from my coworkers.

“We care about you, Kate.”

“Please contact us any time.”

The kind words written in the letters from my colleagues warmed my heart.

(I was able to receive this because of Ellis taking me to the post office.)

I feel so happy right now because Ellis tried to make me smile.

I stepped into a different world.

I can’t return to my normal daily life for a month—

Even though I was scared, I felt like he was telling me ‘it’s okay’.

(Since this morning, I feel more confident that I can make it through the month.)

(Even more so if Ellis is with me.)

--The next morning came with a renewed determination.

Victor: “I heard, Kate. You were attacked by one of Jude’s business rivals yesterday?”

Kate: “Ah, yes. But thanks to Ellis, nothing happened.”

Victor: “That’s great, but… I fear that your life will be in danger before the contract is over…”

Victor: “—That means that Crown’s confidential information is also at risk! Isn’t that so?”

Ellis: “Yeah.”

Jude: “…I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Hearing that grumpy voice, Victor smiled broadly…

Victor: “So, Jude, Ellis.”

Victor: “I want the two of you to take responsibility and act as Kate’s escorts!”

(What!?)

Jude: “Ah?”

Ellis: “…escort?”

Next Chapter