#wish I could do a gruesome attempt so either I die or things actually start changing in my life

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

Tw self harm sucide

[strawberryjamsara]

Keiji and Sara’s relationship throughout yttd

In which I analyze the found family dynamic between Sara and Keiji then nobody reads it. But jokes aside, I realized back when that anon asked me for my thoughts on Sara that I had enough thoughts on the relationship between these two alone for its own meta so here goes. What Sara and Keiji’s relationship means in the grand scheme of yttd.

ALSO THIS IS NOT SHIPPING SHIPPERS GET THE FUCK AWAY

Sara when she meets Keiji is distrustful of him. And how can she not be? The guy has some creepy bags under his eyes, doesn’t seem to care about the situation, and for no reason is gravitating towards her. And his response when she asks why the hell he keeps putting a random stranger in charge? “Because you’re cute.” Yeah. I’d stay within 50 feet of this guy too Sara. Especially when he’s not spilling a word about himself.

Alright we might as well get the gross part out of the way. To clear things up. In the Japanese version, the word he uses “Kawai” can be seen as a more fatherly word to use with a kid. But the comments about going on dates from himself and from Shin? Those are still there. And I still think they’re really uncomfortable and wish they weren’t in the game period but we can get thematic significance out of them.

We still don’t know Keijis reasons in game for being attached to Sara. My theory? She’s his handicap. He was told to get close to the higher scorer who could easily backstab him, and he’d be stuck with her. It just kinda makes sense to me. But since that’s just a theory I won’t lean to heavily on it for support. But let’s talk about his comments.

Keiji… well, it’s shown at many points in the game that Keiji just thinks of himself as doomed to be a bad person. It can be seen during his day two negotiations when he calls himself a killer and explains he can’t even trust himself so Sara shouldn’t really bother and more explicitly so is the classroom scene between him and Ranmaru where he says he isn’t fit to protect Sara because of his sins. The flirting is both a way to distract people, and to put distance between himself and Sara. He’s not really “protecting” her.

Okay gross bit nobody wants to talk about is over I promise we won’t talk about it again. Let’s talk about Russian Roulette. In this scene, Keiji once again tries to make Sara the leader with no explanation, but then, Sara yells at him, something he didn’t expect. And through this he actually reveals something huge. The source of his trauma. His shooting. For Keiji to have actually revealed something that big, I think that this is the first moment he began to see Sara past whatever reason he first started making her a leader. This is the beginning of their bond.

This bond gets solidified over chapter 1-2s investigation. Keiji is still putting her in charge because his handicap said to build her up for whatever reason, but they’re able to have chats, and she keeps picking at his armor. He reveals his dark sense of humor to her, and she, suspicious just sort of keeps him at arms length. Also she rides his shoulders to screw in a light and he complains which is funny. The scene post Nao also helps the two of them sharpen investigative skills together, as they discuss the mystery of Miley, and Mishimas head.

Then another significant scene. The white room. I call this scene significant because, instead of letting Sara investigate the gruesome scene of the first trial, Keiji for the first time, allows Sara to walk out. Something that will become relevant later but until then, Keiji has begun to put Sara’s well-being above serving whatever purpose he had by building her up. So keep that in your pocket while we go over the main game.

There’s only two points for the main game I want to cover. While Keiji and Sara do put their heads together a few times, Sara still doesn’t fully trust him, so I will only go over 1. When Shin brings up Kai’s emails. Keiji has been fully logical this whole time, questioning everyone’s alibis including Nao’s who he saw the emotional plea from, but when Sou brings up potentially damning evidence of Sara, he just asks if he read the emails wrong. 2. When Sara is panicking over being chosen for the final round, Keiji loudly shouts “GET A GRIP SARA!” With a serious expression. Before quickly backtracking and going back to a devil may care expression. This shows he is both already emotionally attached to Sara, but unwilling to stake himself towards giving himself to a new cause.

Anyways, he stops her from pressing the button blah blah blah, onto chapter 2! I’ve made a post about this before but it seems as early as here, Keiji is trying to talk Sara down from pushing herself further. But at this point, Sara has already dedicated herself to the role because her best friend died due to her priority to protect everyone. Keiji sees the problem and he tries to get her to rest up, but he still doesn’t spend the time to have a serious talk about it because as he says in the classroom. He isn’t fit to protect her. He doesn’t think of himself as a good person who can help her. He thinks of himself as a murderer and he doesn’t allow himself to recover from the trauma.

Sara however is starting to rely more on Keiji. He’s been willing to comfort her in her times of grief and furthermore, she has something to relate to him on. They both have deaths of important people in their lives they feel responsibility for.

There’s also the fact that Keiji sees a lot of his old self in Sara. An idealistic person, being beaten down, and worrying over the idea they might be becoming a bad person. He feels the same as her.

Not to mention… Keiji follows through on his promises. He actually tells Sara about the person he respected like he said he would which establishes a further sense of trust.

However, something that tears that sense of trust apart is the tokens scene. When Keiji doesn’t even let Sara hold 50 tokens, it raises suspicion. Sara already knows he shot a person- what more could he have to hide? That scares her away. The negotiation event is an attempt for Keiji to win back her trust. But it slowly turns into Keiji’s self-loathing session. And his declaration maybe Sara shouldn’t trust him.

However, time passes enough (and Keiji supports Sara enough in the final attraction) for them to get together and investigate in 2-2. And there’s a lot of moments I can talk about there so I’ll be just doing a few rapidfire things. So first, Sara is in peak weird girl mode and Keiji can hardly control her chaos. Second, Keiji makes a full on decision at one point to go against Sara when she’s putting herself in danger of getting caught for their search so they can hide. Third, his response to “I don’t intend to die” when he asks “will you die with me” is that’s a good answer.

And fourth… a moment I really wanna touch on… Keiji watches something that could easily incriminate Sara. It’s not just some word of mouth thing like with Shin who lied about things several times before this point. But in that moment, he still relies on Sara and says he wouldn’t feel bad betting his life on her. The message is clear. Keiji supports Sara unconditionally.

Now let’s talk about Keiji totally dropping Sara’s ass with the card trades.

The way Keiji makes his trades is very telling. He first, steals a keymaster card from either Sou or Kanna to give to Sara. This is supporting Sara, but it’s doing it in a way that supports his view of himself. That he’s a scumbag who would steal someone’s immunity just to give it to someone he likes more. And would a shithead like that be “worthy” of sacrificing themselves and taking the card for Sara? (And he knew she had it. Qtaro had to tell him for their plan to happen) no. Instead he essentially opts for a revenge plot. A plan to ensnare Shin and kill him for pawning off the sacrifice to Sara. Basically, he wanted to fuck up Shin like how he fucked up Megumi. Nice going Keiji. This is… kind of his low point in the story.

But 3-1….. man this chapter hits in all the right ways. I don’t remember 3A that much, (although I do know that Keiji shows a lot of concern over Sara potentially being triggered by Joe memorabilia) and also if you fail the Keiji Midori fight you can have Sara attempt to tag Keiji and he rejects. And how can we forget… the mr policeman flashback. As Sara says, this is Keiji’s first time opening up on his own.

And then… coffin saga. Sara through everything is not willing to let Keiji die. Although she’s had her ups and downs with him, leaving him to die is inconceivable to her with everything they’ve been through together. So she opts to sign the contract both times she is offered it.

Keiji clearly is somebody important to Sara. Important enough that Ranmaru bringing him up is enough to snap her out of her murderous trance. Enough that she throws logic out the window when she has a sign he’s okay.

Likewise, the scene in the classroom for Keiji is… a huge step. When he’s alone with Ranmaru, who is unstable, in that classroom, his priority is Sara. He turns his back to the threat to hold Sara and try and make sure she’s okay- dumb move, but it shows how far he’s come.

And again, I want to reiterate- Keiji is Sara’s anchor. At the banquet when Sara is about to give up, she imagines Keiji talking to her which brings her back in the game. Much like Joe did back in chapter 2. The message is palpable. Keiji is Sara’s new Joe. And when Keiji comes back to comfort her? He’s now fully willing to sacrifice himself. It winds up not being needed seeing as Qtaro is the one that died. But in that moment, we see Keiji has made a huge leap from chapter 2. He almost sacrificed himself for Gin. And he would’ve used his final moments to comfort Sara. He’s embraced that he’s a father figure. He allows himself to be a good person.

Anyways I don’t know how to conclude this and I’ve been writing for hours. Bababooey.

[yandere-ac]

ima do it. I request Yandere Monokuma, that simple.

Yandere Monokuma X Reader

Dispair for two

⚠️Spoilers for chapter two⚠️

“I told you already! It’s all a misunderstanding! The reason I was going to the changing room was because I left something there earlier and I was simply getting it back! His body wasn’t even hanging there when I got there! Now for the last time, I’m not the-“ “You’re a liar! You killed Chihiro! We all know it!” Taka interrupted you as he banged his fist against his small podium. This was the most intense you’ve ever seen him. And that was really saying something since it was Taka. You tried to explain yourself over and over again, but it didn’t matter. No one believed you. No one wanted to believe you. No one wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. As you looked around at everyone, you either saw hate, sadness or absolutely nothing in their eyes. It was hopeless, no matter what you said, everyone had already made up their minds about you. You looked over at Kyoko in one last desperate attempt at solving this, but when she immediately turned her head away, you felt the world around you collapse. If not even Kyoko wanted to believe you, then what was the point. Your fate was set in stone. “W...WERE ALL GONNA DIE!!! IF YOU DO THIS YOU WILL DIE! YOU HEAR ME?! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? FOR CHIHIROS DEATH TO BE IN VAIN?!” You yelled out. Trying to make someone, anyone listen. “It would seem like we are done here.” Celeste said as she eyed you up and down intensely. “Monokuma. We’re ready to start voting.” Makoto said as he looked over at the black and white bear. The bear which seemed to fidget with giddiness. “Well then! Looks like you kids are ready to cast your votes and reveal who the blackened is! Make sure you’re absolutely certain of who you’re voting for!” Monokuma said in such a sickeningly gleeful voice. “No wait! Not yet!” You tried once more. But it was no use as the bear didn’t even seem to listen. “Time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Grab your lever and give it a yank! Who will you elect as the blackened this time around? Will you make the right choice or the dreadfully wrong one?!” Monokuma continued with his usual speech, just like the one from Sayakas trial. But you weren’t listening, you were lost in your own horror, blankly staring at the floor with wide eyes. They were all gonna vote for you...you were all gonna die! You were all gonna die and the monster who killed Chihiro was gonna get away! You felt your breaths get heavy as everyone gave their vote. You didn’t even bother giving yours, knowing that it wouldn’t change what was gonna happen, only voting once Monokuma forced you to do it.

“Let’s see who you all believe to be the blackened...and it would appear that the one with the most votes would be...Y/N L/N!” As he said this, everyone looked at you. But you just kept your eyes fastened to the floor. “...howEVER!!! Y/N is NOT the blackened!” Monokuma said delightfully as he looked at everyone’s expressions change. All but two. You, and the actual blackened. As everyone was looking around, trying to take in what they just heard, you looked at them, spite filling your eyes. Everyone who wasn’t frozen by shock or hyperventilating was looking at you once again. Looking at you with sorrow and horror. Even Byakuya was caught off guard, looking at his own pair of hands in disbelief. “I....I....we...were wrong?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “No. The real killer would be...MONDO OWADA! As such! He gets to graduate! Good for him!” As Monokuma announced this, a bunch of audible gasps rang through the hall. Everyone’s eyes shifted from you over to Mondo. He was looking down at the ground, shame draping over his shoulder like the very coat he wore. “Unfortunately for the rest of you, you will all be exec-“ “This is a joke right?! Mondo would never hurt someone, let alone Chihiro! Right bro?! He’s joking right?! Tell them he’s joking!” Taka said, seeking any kind of reassurance in Mondo. But the only thing he could find in those beautiful purple eyes of his was regret and guilt. “...TELL ME HE’S JOKING!!! WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING SOMETHING! SAY SOMETHING MONDO!!!” The desperation in his voice was becoming stronger and stronger. His voice cracking at several point during his outburst. “...I’m sorry Taka...I...I didn’t mean to...” those words seem to completely break Taka as he realised what his best friend just told him, he just outright admitted to murdering Chihiro, their friend and classmate. “I...HOW COULD YOU?!” He shouted as he lunged himself at Mondo, Makoto and Hifumi having to hold him back as he tried to break free. “Let me go! Why Mondo!? Why why why?!!!” It was almost hard having to listen to this, and that was just for you, you couldn’t imagine what Mondo felt as Taka screamed at him. “Taka please listen to me-“ “YOU KILLED HIM!!! CHIHIRO! CHIHIRO WHO COULDN’T HURT A FLY! YOU KILLED HIM!!! YOU’RE A MONSTER! YOU HEAR ME!? A MONSTER!“ Taka yelled out at his best friend, tears spilling out with no intention of stopping. “ENOUGH!” The whole room got deathly quiet as everyone looked at Monokuma, everyone but Taka who was still staring at Mondo. “No more waiting! No more hassling! It’s time for the executions! Mondo Owada, we thank you for your time here at hope peak’s academy. Please make your way to the elevator and we will be shortly with you.” Monokuma said as he mentioned for the boy to leave. As he walked away, he sent one last apologetic look at Taka, but this time, Taka wasn’t looking. He was hiding his face in his hands as he let out a string of sobs. Looking at him with pity, Hina made her way over to him in order to comfort him. But the moment she laid her hand on his shoulder, he quickly yanked it away, making Hina flinch in the process.

As Mondo closed the door behind him, the panic of the situation truly settled in for everyone. You were all gonna die. And it wasn’t even gonna be a normal quick death. No, Monokuma and the mastermind proved that at Leon’s execution. The memories of that trial came flooding back to you. You still remembered the horrified look on Leon’s face once the execution began. Being struck by thousands of baseballs at such a rapid pace, feeling your bones break, feeling your muscles tear. The thought of it brought a tear to your eye. The simple fact that you were all gonna get personalised executions made this even more horrifying since you didn’t even know what you were gonna get. How horrid and cruel it was gonna be. A part of you hoped that maybe it was just Leon’s execution that was so incredibly cruel. That maybe his was the worst. That maybe you and your friends weren’t gonna get such inhumane ways of passing. Most of all, you hoped you were the first. You wanted to get this over with so you didn’t have to witness what fates your classmates would have. But as you would find out, that was not the case for either of your wishes.

You were the last person to go. Having to watch each and every one of your friends die, every death seemingly more gruesome than the last. From being burnt alive to suffocated to hanged. Hearing their screams of pain as some even begged for death, it disturbed you beyond belief. So when it was finally your turn, you were pretty much accepting death with open arms. As Byakuyas screams of agony filled the room, you couldn’t help but feel pity. His arms and legs were currently being slowly pulled off, making this the most brutal execution so far. Even if he was a pretentious douchebag he didn’t deserve this. None of you deserved this, no one deserved this. And yet here you were. As tears poured out of Byakuyas eyes, he made eye contact with you one last time before they went blank. His screams of agony died down and you heard the pesky sounds of Monokumas laugh fill the hall. He had been watching each execution eagerly. Doing things like dancing, mocking and even participating in the torture leading up to the deaths. The small bear was laughing as children were dying in horrible and brutal ways. And it made you sick to your stomach. How someone could be so sadistic, so ruthless, grotesque and loathsome that they can look at teenagers dying and laugh, laugh in their faces, not even providing their last moments with dignity. He was a nasty little leech. And that nasty little leech was now looking over at you.

“Phuhuhuhu! What’s the matter Y/N? Feeling down? How come?” He said as he appeared right next to you, sitting on your shoulder as he swung his legs back and forth. But you quickly grabbed ahold of him and threw him off of you. “Ough! Hey! Violence against the headmaster is strictly prohibited! What’s gotten into you?” That question made your blood boil as you sent him a death glare. “What’s gotten into me? What’s gotten into me?! My friends are dead! All of them! You killed them all! And now you’re gonna kill me! Why should I care about the rules when I’m about to die?! You said I was your favourite student, so why don’t you do me a favour. Do it now! Get it over with! I don’t want to anticipate it any more! Just-.....just do it....” as you felt hot tears run from your eyes you yelled and shouted at him. Every second was like additional torture as you waited for something to happen at any second. But, as you had emptied your mind of your anger, Monokuma let out yet another laugh. A laugh which went on for a while before slowly dying down. As he calmed himself down from his laughing fit, he said three words that sent shivers up your spine. “...as you wish...” suddenly, two chains shot out from the darkness, attaching themselves to your wrists by shackles. You felt yourself being pulled up rather harshly, ascending up to the very high ceiling as you hanged there, feet dangling around as you let out a shriek looking at how high up you were.

“What are you? Scared of heights?” A high pitched voice mocked you. You turned your body around rather hastily as you saw Monokuma resting on one of the chains next to you. “I wonder how big of a stain you would make if I were to drop you right now!” He said, increasingly getting more and more aggressive in his tone as he said it. “Hmm...but that would be such a waste. Wouldn’t it? I’d much rather play with you for a while...” as he said this, he disappeared and your chains started to shake, flinging you around like nothing but a small toy until you yelled out for him to stop. Once you did so, the chains became still and he reappeared on top of your head, twirling around a lock of your hair as he sighed to himself. “...I asked you to get on with my execution...why are you doing this? Why can’t you just drop me so that I can join the rest...” once you said this, he let out a soft chuckle. “Oh but you’re not joining the rest. Trust me on that one Y/N. You see, the others punishments were being executed, but you! Phuhuhu! I’ve got something EXTRA special for you~” as he said this your eyes became widened. “...wh...what?” Your voice was very docile and low. As if you couldn’t believe what you had just heard. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N....the ultimate puppeteer who managed to do something no one had ever been able to do...you see, I don’t care much for any of my students. All of them could die for all I care. And there was a point when I thought the exact same thing about you!But one thing that separated you from the rats was simply what you did in your day to day life in this school. Watching you through the cameras, I’ll be honest, it was always so captivating for me. You were always so kind to everyone around you. Even to scum like Byakuya Togami or Hifumi yamada who didn’t deserve your kindness! And I got a little curious, curios how you would react if someone you hated gave you something...something that had been missing from your current life...” Only now did you realise what he was referring to. You still remembered that instance clear as day.

It had been a day like any other. A lot of the days blended together when you were stuck here. But this one always stood out for you. You had been out with Hifumi that day. Talking about your similar interests and such. It had been pretty fun but you were exhausted since talking to him can be a little...intense. So you went into your dorm in order to get some sleep. You had thrown yourself onto your bed and was ready to collapse when you heard a familiar voice. “Enjoying school life?” Your eyes shot open as you saw the black and white bear, leaning over your form while sitting on your bedpost. You immediately let out a shout as you threw yourself off the bed and onto the floor in panic. “M-MONOKUMA?!” “Yessir! The one and only!” “What are you doing here?!” You shrieked as he jumped onto the bed. “I wanted to surprise you! To see how you would react! And my god, you did NOT disappoint! Quite the flip you did there! If this was the olympics I’d give that a 9/10!” He said as he sat down at the end of the bed. “Hardy har! What do you want?” You said rather irritated that someone like him had to disturb you when you were about to sleep. ”Do i need a reason to visit my favourite puppeteer?” He asked, and you would imagine that if he had an actual face, he would be pouting and giving you the puppy eyes. “Yes. Now why are you here?” You said once again, standing up and brushing yourself off. Monokuma let out a sigh as he to stood up. “Well if you’re gonna be like that. Yes, there is a reason I’m here. I want you to go to the AV room. There’s a surprise waiting for you there!“ and without another word, he disappeared just as fast as he came. For a few moments you just sat there. Taking in what had just happened. He wanted you to go to the AV room? What now!? Had he prepared some new form of motive for you? Maybe he had told everyone to do this. Yeah, he probably just wanted to give you all new forms of motives and had told all of you privately to go. But why wouldn’t he just use the broadcasting system? Wouldn’t that be a lot less complicated? Whatever it was. You didn’t like it. Not one bit. But you figured to just get it out of the way.

So that’s what you did. You walked all the way to the AV room, expecting to run into someone on your way there. And yet, no sight of anyone. Maybe they’ve already made it to the AV room and were waiting for you? You picked up your pace as you didn’t want to keep them all waiting. But as soon as you made it inside, you were met by an empty room, with a box sitting by one of the desks near you. “Huh?” You said out loud to yourself. Was this the surprise that Monokuma was telling you about? Should you even open it? You tried to resist it, but it was surprisingly hard. It was like the box was calling out to you, grasping onto you with it’s big claws and dragging you in, begging for you to open it. And you could not resist temptation. It was simply too strong. As you picked the box up you could hear small thuds coming from inside of it. Curiosity ate at you until you simply could not handle it anymore. You opened the box and expected the worst. But to your surprise, nothing happened. There were no snakes flying out, biting you in the face. There were no spiders crawling out. There wasn’t even a tape or something that could be used as motivation for you like you and expected. No. Inside the box, was a small puppet. A puppet you were oh so familiar with. It was your first ever puppet, the one you got on your 5th birthday. You didn’t use it anymore but you had always carried it around for sentimental value. Sadly, it had disappeared once you enter red the school, just like your phone did. For a few seconds you just stood there, staring at it with awe.

“Do you like it?” Your silence was interrupted by the oh so distinct voice of Monokuma. He was standing on the desk right next to you. You turned your head to look at him, trying to form words. “I...how did you...where did....why?” Why was the only question that you could manage to get out, bringing your puppet close to your chest. “As you’ve probably figured out. Your little doll was confiscated along with some other items of interest that belonged to you and your classmates. And I thought, since it wasn’t a contraband, why not give it back. You certainly seem very attached to the thing...” he told you as he waddled closer to you. Why was he giving this to you? Why would he bother? Why would he care if you were attached to it or not? “....is....is this some trick to get me to kill someone? You think giving me something sentimental will make me miss home so much that I would....” you trailed off, not even wanting to continue the sentence. “Oh please. First off. Does everything I do have to have a tie in to murder? Can’t I just do something because I want to? Second off. If I wanted to trick someone into murdering another student, I would not choose you. You’re not as desperate or miserable as some of your fellow classmates are. You’d be at the bottom of my list. And if I were to try and manipulate you into killing someone, I would not use just a simple puppet to do so. Trust me when I say I’ve got a lot of ways to make you resort to murder, but this? Ain’t one of em.” He told you as he jumped off the table and walked a bit away. “Then...why?....” you asked the bear once again, but this time, you got no answer. “....thank you....Monokuma....” you said as you looked at him. He didn’t reply as he walked out of the door, and as you followed him out, you noticed that he was completely gone.

That instance had always stood out to you as weird. But it was far from the only time it had happened. Monokuma was never outright nice to you. But he had his ways. From small things like appearing to talk to you every now and again. To actually making a somewhat effort to make you feel better when you were down. You remembered that the night after the trial, you had collapsed onto the bed and had cried for hours nonstop. And at one point of your little grief session, a bar of your favourite candy fell from the ceiling on top of the bed next to you. You had remembered mentioning how much you missed eating it since the school vending machines didn’t have them. And there it was, lying next to you. You took a few seconds to process it, but before you could reach for it, a water bottle fell down next to it. Almost hitting you in the head but missing it with just a few inches, making you recoil slightly before regaining your posture enough to look up. Of course, there was no one there. But you knew who it was. No one else could have done it. Because you had only told two people about the candy bar, and the second person you told was dead. There was no doubt in your mind who it was. But the only thing you could think of was why? Why was he being so...weirdly nice to you? It wasn’t like he was gonna let you go. And he had said himself that he wasn’t trying to manipulate you. So what was up with him. You refused to believe that he didn’t have some ulterior motive for doing all of this. It couldn’t just be as simple as him doing it to be nice...it just couldn’t...

And you were right, in some sense anyways. Monokumas friendly actions had started as an experiment. He wanted to see if you truly were so kind that you’d put up with him. He knew you wouldn’t ever want to befriend him, he’s not stupid. Anyone in this situation would hate him, and he didn’t exactly blame them. But you, you were still different in the way you interacted with him. While others would shrug him off or even curse at him, you still kept up your good manners. Greeting him and thanking him if he ever did something for you. It intrigued him beyond belief, because no matter how much you did it, he just couldn’t understand why. Why would you bother with him? He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. So he kept investing, he told himself that it was simply out of curiosity, but he knew deep down. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying seeing how you would react to his actions. He felt some strange sort of attachment in a way, there wasn’t a lot of people he got to interact with, and there definitely wasn’t a lot of them that didn’t hate him. So he wanted to keep you around. At least for a little while.

“You see, you were the only person who treated me with some basic human decency! And I just couldn’t understand why!? But I wanted to understand! So I kept the nice charade up! Or well...that was until...something horrible happened.” Monokuma told you as he stroked your hair. “...what...what do you mean?” You asked hesitantly. Whatever was happening. You didn’t like it. Monokuma stayed silent for a few seconds before he answered. “....I fell for you...” four words that made your eyes widen and made all air escape your lungs. “W-WHAT?!” You cried out in disbelief, almost wondering if what you heard was real and not some figment of your imagination. “I wasn’t the happiest once I realised it either. But, I couldn’t deny it any longer. And boy! You should have seen their reaction to it! That was NOT pretty! Phuhuhuhu...but, we made a deal!” He was as he drew out his claws and started to run them through your hair. You felt shivers up your spine as the sharp talons brushed against not only your hair but your scalp. And as you did so, Monokuma only chuckled more. “W-what do you mean?” You asked him, feeling dread fill up your stomach as Monokuma gleefully giggled. “If anyone actually managed to graduate, I would get to choose your punishment! It didn’t even have to be an execution! But I’m return, I was no longer allowed to help you in the game. No longer allowed to protect you. If you were to die, I couldn’t intervene. To my dismay of course, but the thought of what would happen if someone were to graduate...” Monokuma let out a heavy breath as he said this. Putting a hand on his chest where his heart would be if he had one. “...what I would be able to do...oh I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity! If you were to die because of that then so be it! And look how that turned out~” Monokuma said, letting out another laugh that increased in power the longer it went on. There was a lot to unpack with that statement, but the thing that got you most confused was the “protection” part. “W-what do you mean you weren’t allowed to protect m-me? Protect me from what?” You asked as you tried to look at him, but since he was on your head it was rather difficult. However, Monokuma quickly got the message and lowered his body so that is was practically hanging off your head, looking directly into your eyes as his hands grabbed either sides of your face, both for support and because he wanted to feel your soft skin. “Protect you from those monsters you call friends of course! I still remember that night so vividly. Byakuya Togami had tried to sneak into your room to kill you, but boy did he not see me coming! He was the biggest threat to you, and since I had already taken care of him, I didn’t think he was gonna be an issue. And so I made the deal! I was no longer allowed to protect you if someone was trying to kill you! But lucky for me, no one else tried to do anything!” As you heard this your hearts stopped cold. You didn’t want to believe what you had heard. “B...Byakuya had tried-“ “tried to kill you? Oh yes! He thought you would be an easy target so he went to town! I of course, didn’t let that happen! You should have seen his face! Absolute DESPAIR!” You flinched slightly as the bear raised his voice. “Hifumi did try to do something outside your room once. But he was to incompetent to do anything, and he never tried it again so I figured he changed his mind. Still, those two were at the top of my list. You have no idea how satisfying it was to finally have them executed! I even changed their execution just for the occasion!”

That did answer a question you had. Because everyone else had personalised executions, executions that were tailored specifically for them, tying in to their ultimate or their desires. But Hifumi and Byakuyas executions, they had no correlation with any of their hopes, dreams, ultimates, or even their desires. They were just incredibly brutal. Their screams of pain still haunted you as you thought back on their executions. “Now my dear Y/N. I told you your punishment would be extra special! You’ve probably figured it out by now, but your punishment isn’t execution at all! No, rather, your punishment is being stuck here! With me! Like nothing but a puppet! I figured that would be a fitting punishment for the ultimate puppeteer while still serving my best interest! I wanna see how long you’ll keep those manners up...phuhuhu!” Monokuma started laughing maniacally, but you, you were to focused on your breathing. Because for a moment it felt like you actually couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t believe it...you didn’t want to believe it. All those times when Monokuma appeared out of nowhere, when he started talking to you, when he made jokes that actually made you laugh. At first you were only entertaining him because you didn’t want to be rude. Even if he was doing all of this, there wasn’t really anything you could do about it. And if you were honest, you were still a little scared about what he might do if you did act rude to him. So you kept being nice. And it seemed to be rewarding in the moment because he was nice to you in return. But now? You wished you just told him to piss off that day when he disturbed you from your nap. At least then you would have maybe gotten a quick death and be free from this hellish school. But now? Because of your kindness, you were gonna stay here, forever. As nothing more than a love craving bears little doll. The more you thought about it. The bigger the pit in your stomach became. Soon enough, you started to sob as tears dripped down your face. Tears which Monokuma only laughed at as he caresses your face. “Crying already? I knew it’d come but I didn’t think it would come this soon phuhuhu!” Monokuma let out a laugh as he continued to play with your hair.

“Ah Y/N. You and I are gonna have such fun together~”

[childofhelios]

“flower blooms and falls scars cure and buds shoot”

ship: Hades!Doyoung x Persephone!Taeyong

characters: Doyoung, Taeyong, with appearances by Jeno and mention of Zeus!Johnny and Poseidon!Ten 

rating: general/teen for slight injury and mentions of blood, also slight possessiveness from Doyoung but he regrets it very soon after

genre: fluff with angst for like .5 seconds

word count: 2.8k

title was taken from seventeen’s fallin’ flower, which is really good to listen to while reading! also, tell me if there are any mistakes bc i did convert a piece of my other writing into this fic. but anywho enjoy and feel free to send a message/ask about what you think about it :DDDD

“Taeyong, please just come out.” I lean my forehead against the black, walnut door where I can hear him franticly running around her room.  “We can talk about this like civilized people.” I hear him begin to mutter under his breath and I catch him saying my name and a few unpleasant phrases that I wish weren't associated with my name, but alas. “Taeyong, don’t you think you’re being a little immature? You’re acting like a child!” 

I almost fall forward as the door opens suddenly. Taeyong’s eyes were ablaze with fury as he stares at me in front of his door.  

“Oh, my sincerest apologies, Doyoung. I just didn’t expect to get kidnapped by someone that I’ve never met, starved for six months, accidentally eat a pomegranate, and then be stuck in this terrible, dreary place with no other company other than the dead and you. And I would rather spend time with the dead!”  

“Believe me, the dead are worse company than I am.” 

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” I jolt at his loud voice echoing through the manor. I’ve had his presence for over six months, and I’m still not used to having people around me. To having an actual living, breathing person in my company. He sweeps a hand through bubblegum pink bangs and takes a deep sigh. “Doyoung, I beg of you. The humans need me. Without me, they’ll die. I need to go back on the surface to assist my mother.” 

I roll my eyes. “Humans are made to die. It’s how they're made to be. Plus, She’s is a goddess that has been around for centuries. She was able to assist humans without you there. Besides,” I take a hold of his hands, his beautiful tan contrasting against the blueish pallor of mine, “didn’t you say you loved me?” 

Yanking his hand out of mine, he says, “I said I loved you a little. And if I knew that it would go straight to your head and you would try to use against me, I wouldn’t have said it. If you had given me the chance, maybe it could have grown. Maybe I would have been able to become your bride.” 

“Taeyong, you can’t leave. I finally got used to having someone with me. You can still become my husband.” 

“Doyoung. You can’t just keep me here because you’re lonely.” 

I sigh and rise to my full height, towering over him slightly. “You’ve misunderstood me. You can’t leave. I forbid it.” 

He scoffs and pushes past me. “Haven’t you heard of free will? I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.” Before he rounds the corner, something whizzes by his face. He whips around, furious with a small cut on his cheek beginning to spill golden ichor. I stride up to him and yank the sharpened ruby out of the wall.  

“It seems that you've forgotten who I am. I am Doyoung, the god of the underworld and riches. I am one of the oldest gods to exist and I’ll be one of the last to disappear. Did you think you’ll be able to leave that easily? This is my domain and I decide what comes in and out of it. And you,” I crush the ruby and let the powder run through my fingers like sand, “aren’t going anywhere, my little lotus. Now, you can walk to your room on your own, or I can have Cerberus escort you back there. Your choice, my dear.” 

If looks could kill, I would already be six feet under as Taeyong stares up at me. Slowly, he steps away and walks in the direction of his door. I watch as he leads a trail of ichor and shuts his door with a forceful SLAM! 

 I begin walking towards my quarters. As soon as I close my door, my knees give out. “Gods, why did I do that? You know that he’s right. We can’t force him here; he’s going to be unhappy and what’s the point of having him here if he’s upset the entire time?” I stare down at my hands as they tremble slightly. “I injured him. On purpose, I made him bleed.” It’s a weird feeling to be shaken by blood when that’s what I deal with every day. I see the most gruesome of murders and war causalities but injuring a minor god has me shaking in my boots. I wobble over to my sink and submerge my face underwater. I came up gasping for air and catch my reflection in the mirror. At the rate I’m paling, I’ll look more like a ghost than the people outside the manor. My eyes resemble the darkest of obsidian and have deep eye bags underneath them, my face is sunken in as if I’m a beggar from the streets, and my hair is matted in every which way. The longer I stare at myself, the more I can see the monster Taeyong must see.  

“JENO!” My voice booms and seconds later, a pile of bones bursts through the door. No, quite literally, a disassembled skeleton falls through my door and onto the ground before me. The skull, sporting a flat cap, turns towards me and grins widely.  

“Master Doyoung! What can I do to help you today?” 

“Please tend to Mr. Taeyong from now own. First, make sure his wound is taken care of. Second, make sure he eats, sleeps, and does whatever else he needs and wants to do. Do you understand?” 

“Absolutely, Master. He’s in the right hands. Or, um, bones.” 

“No tricks, Jeno. I don’t think our guest would appreciate that. And neither would I.”  

Jeno’s voice takes on a mischievous tone. “Guest? Don’t you mean groom, Master? Unless you’re having second thoughts?” 

“I’m not sure what you mean. But I do know this.” I pick up the skull and stare fiercely where the eyes would have been. “If you do anything to upset her, I will crush your bones into powder and use it as incense for the next 30 years. Do you understand?” 

“Would my bones even last that long?” 

“Do you really test me right now?” 

“Fine. I understand. Now, can you please put me back together again?” I roll my eyes, but I set down the skull in the middle of the bones. My eyes glow a bright gold and with a wave of my hand, the skeleton assembles once more. He fidgets with his cap.  

“Now, that’s much better!” 

“What happened to you?”  

“Cerberus tried to use me as a chew toy. Again.” 

“I knew there was a reason he’s my favorite.”  

“I would take personal offense to that but, he’s my favorite too.”  

“Go to Taeyong. Make sure she’s alright.”  

“Your wish is my command, Master.” As he walks out the door, his bones clatter and then I’m left in silence. I fall back into my bed, wondering if I should just apologize to him directly. I did act unreasonably, and I shouldn’t have let my anger explode like that, but I don’t want him to leave. As I lay there, I slowly drift off.  

 The next month is difficult for multiple reasons. First, immediately after I send Jeno to take care of Taeyong, he throws a fit and makes flowers grow out of every hole in his skeletal body. Then, he refuses to eat with me or even look at me. I would walk down the hall and he’d sprint into a side room just to avoid me. And let’s not even get started with the escape attempts. You would think after about 10, he would give up. But no. He has tried to escape more than 50 times. Fifty. I swear to the gods, he’s making me grow gray hairs just from stress. Then we have Johnny, Ten, and practically the entirety of the Pantheon breathing down my neck trying to bring her back. And I’ve explained to them multiple times that it’s the law of the underworld and I can’t change it simply because one young goddess is down here. But now, Thunder Thighs and Kelp-for-Brains can’t grasp it for some reason.  

I sit behind my desk, grasping my head as I glare at the piles of scrolls in front of me. You would think death was pretty cut and dry, but no. I have to deal with making sure bodies end up with families, people don’t act on stupid grudges and become monsters to kill people, or something else entirely stupid. I pick up one scroll when the door cracks open.  

“Jeno, I thought I told you if you disturbed me, I would- “  

“Let Cerberus year me apart and keep me as his chew-toy, I know, I know. But it’s urgent.”  

I drop the scroll in my hand. “If it means I can get out of my work, I’m all ears.”  

“Mr. Taeyong…. He’s disappeared again, Master.”  

The pounding in my head worsens. “Oh.” 

“Shall I go after him? Or maybe send some people after him?” 

“No, just leave him. If he’s this persistent to leave, then we should just let him go.” 

“But, Master!” 

“Enough, Jeno. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a rest before I break the law of my land.” I stand and stagger my way to my bedroom, ignoring Jeno’s shouts and how my head worsens with each step I take. Ugh, this whole affair is such a mess. I shouldn’t have gotten myself involved with him in the first place. I close my eyes and the next time they open; the sky had faded from the morning’s light dusk to the afternoon’s midnight blue. I rise with my robes wrinkled and sleep in my eyes. I find my way to the kitchen and snag an apple before heading to the endless pile of scrolls I left. On my way there, I see Taeyong’s door slightly ajar.  

“Jeno, I thought I told you about going through other people’s things? You never-” Instead of seeing that insufferable skeleton with a guilty grin, I find Taeyong unpacking a bag. “You’re back.” 

“Not by choice, unfortunately.”  

“Oh? I thought you had left. Did Jeno stop you? I told him not to and not to send anybody either.” 

“No, my mother stopped me. Talked about how if I came back before my time here was finished, you would kill any human that even breathed wrongly. So, now I’m back here. I’m sure you’re ecstatic about it.” 

“No!” He looks at me suspiciously, setting down the robes he took out of his bag. “I knew you didn’t want to be here, so I thought not going after you once you had left would finally let you be happy. But it appears to be untrue.” He shakes his head and turns back to his clothes. “If there’s anything I can do that would make it easier for the next five months, please tell me.” 

“I don’t know. Not being here would be pretty great.” 

I wince. “Other than that?” 

“Answer this for me. You say you want me here, but you act like a shriveled prune every time I’m near. Why?”  

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean.” 

“I mean this! This is both the most you’ve ever spoken to me and the nicest you’ve been to me. It’s been a month and we’ve barely talked.” 

“So, what should I do?” 

He walks past me to the door and looks back at me from the doorframe. “Show me. Be sincere and I’ll see if I’ll want to stay.” He walks off and I’m just left stupefied in her room. I all but sprint to my office and start scrawling out two letters.  

I summon Jeno and give him a message. “Give this to Ten and Johnny. Tell them to respond to me immediately.” 

If immediately means 6 days later, I fear for their subjects. As I skim through both of their letters, I see the same pattern of making fun of me, attempting to help, and then making fun of me again. I should have expected it from Airhead, but I thought Ten would be at least somewhat helpful. I throw both of their scrolls in the fire because there was no use in keeping those around. I slam my head into my desk a couple of times, wallowing.  

Over several days, I tried every trick known to man and god. But it either ends with me making a fool of myself or just making Taeyong even angrier. I squat in the garden and hang my head in defeat. The artificial sun in the sky beats down on my skin and my hands are covered in coarse dirt.  

“Master, are you sure you don’t want us to help you? We have staff for this sort of thing.”  

I look back at Jeno. “For the fifth time, Jeno, I truly don’t mind doing this. At least, this is something to distract me from my work. I think my headache is getting better too.” 

“That must be true, sir, because you haven’t stopped smiling since you started planting. “ 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” I look towards the lavender sprigs sitting next to me. “I was just thinking of Taeyong’s reaction when he sees this. I hope this brings a little bit of happiness to his stay here.” I continue planting the lavender until there was a cluster in the section closest to the entrance. At this point, I’ve only put half of the flowers in the ground. But I feel pride swell in my chest as I look at the tiny cluster I planted.  

“What are those?” I whip around to see Taeyong standing on the steps. 

“Oh, um. I was just planting some flowers in the garden. I know you’ve missed nature so I thought I would try to bring some to you.” 

“Wouldn’t they just die?” 

“No. I’ve been trying to grow different types of flowers down here and lavender was the only one that survived.” He continues to stare at me with a mysterious look in his eye. After a couple of seconds, he speeds down the stairs and gets on his knees in front of the sprigs I just planted. “What are you doing?” 

He snaps at me. “Shut up.” If it had been anybody else, they wouldn’t have been saying another word for the rest of their lives and even after that. But I close my mouth and I study Taeyong and he studies the lavender. His hands glow a soft pink and the lavender turns vibrant, almost energized. “There. That should help it for a little while.” 

“What did you just do?” 

“Just gave it a little pick-me-up.” I nod in understanding and Taeyong moves where I had placed the other flowers. “Where were you going to put these?”  

I point at the other side of the garden and he strides over there with the flowers in hand. “Ah, Taeyong. There’s no need. I have this under control.” 

He scoffs. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for the flowers because you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

“Isn’t it just simply putting the plants into the ground and tending to their needs?” 

“Oh, gods. It’s so much more than that. You must be gentle and treat them with the utmost care. You move slowly and fluidly. Come here, I’ll show you.” I squat next to him and see him sprinkling dirt to cover the roots. “Doyoung?” 

“Yes, Taeyong?” 

“Did you know that there’s a language just for flowers?” 

“Really? Fascinating. Is it possible for me to learn? Can you understand it? Wait, has the lavender been speaking the entire time?” 

Taeyong giggles and the artificial sun shines brighter. “Not that kind of language. Each flower has its own meaning. Roses are passion, daisies are innocence, carnations are good fortune, etc.” 

“Wow, then what’s lavender?” 

He stares directly into my eyes, the mysterious look back on his face. “A lot of things but to name a few: purity, calmness, and... devotion.” 

The sun beats down harder, feeling like ants are crawling over my back. “Oh.” 

“Mhm. That’s why they’re one of my favorite flowers. They have a pure message, they’re absolutely beautiful, and they’re able to grow anywhere.”  

“Oh.” 

“Doyoung, do you understand what I’m saying?” 

“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t the faintest idea.” 

His eye twitches and throws a handful of dirt at my chest. “You’re a fool. I’m saying I return your affections. I acknowledge your feelings and feel the same way. Gods, I’m saying I love you and I’m willing to become your husband.” 

It didn’t fully register so my response was: “Oh, that’s nice.”  

“Let’s just continue planting these before it gets too dark, or at least darker. Then, we can discuss this later.”  

And so, we spent the afternoon tending to the flowers and as the day faded to night, we fell asleep with “I love you’s” littering the air like the sweetest and most intoxicating perfume.  

[bayern-moni]

Pair Questions part 1/2 featuring Gin and Aizen

This time no ship intended, but it will be rectified in another post. Enjoy ~

Who steals the covers at night?

Gin. He's a cold blooded creature, literally and metaphorically. His skin always feels too cold not to bury himself in the covers for all the span of that goddamned season. He doesn't care if his claim on the covers leaves his unfortunate bedmate damned to a frosty fate all night, nor does he have problems to brutally kick out of bed whoever tried to make fun of him by putting a cold foot in the vicinity of his own. He is selfish like that and doesn't know remorse. Or maybe, he could feel sorry if that other person were the cute Izuru-chan (but then his most sadistic part would revel in the wait until his too respectful Lieutenant'd overcome his qualms and actually start to fight for the covers) or he could decide to suffer himself the cold and leave the blanket to Rangiku like he did when they lived in that shack as kids, but if that other person happened to be Aizen, then he'd have absolutely no qualms about it. The dark-haired shinigami could and would die of frostbite before Gin actually accepted to give up that pleasurable warmth. After all, the wannabe god is too superior to actually lower himself to start a pillow fight to get it or start listing actual reasons why he had a greater right than his second (stressing that word too much for his taste) to be covered by the blanket, wasn't he?

But ... was he?

Who cooks normally?

Aizen. There'd be a cold day in hell before he let this change. It took him too many years to get his little Lieutenant to understand the difference between 'survival food' and 'actual food' to afford now to have him fall back into his old habits. And the Rei-o knows what he'd do If he decided to purposely mess with the first kind of food to get a good laugh at Aizen's horrified face. Again. How could he forget that time when, during the first days of his training under Aizen's tutelage, Gin decided to thank him for his supposed generosity with a 'sumptuous lunch' (his words)? Go trust that little hellchild. Aizen's stomach wanted to vomit only at the memory of it. When the pest put the plate full of mice and insects, "killed just for the occasion" said proudly the child, in front of him he was torn between the the strong impulse to throw up and the need to examine closely Gin's body language to discern if he sincerely believed that was a satysfing meal or if he just exploited his Rukongai upbringing to make him suffer. Probably the latter.

... And those awful dried persimmons...

When he looked at the genuinely expecting and just a tad mischievous look the kid was giving him, he understood it was a balanced mix of the two. Right then, he decided two things:

Gin would never be allowed to get close to his kitchen again without a real, convincing and absolutely necessary life-or-death reason;

He had to take the problem in his own hands because: first, no way that the future king of the three worlds will ever eat something like that, ever, and, secondly, it was his duty to bring that too scrawny and bony hellion to health.

He could not have his future second in command be weak or die because of the consequences of starvation before he could make himself useful to him. It was a pragmatic matter. Regardless of all the times that moron of Hirako made fun of his attempts because "aren't you too old to play family, Sousuke-kun?" or "did you really adopt the kid, don't you? How 'cute'!". It was just that. But then he continued to encourage Gin's insatiable appetite until he was satisfied with his now not dangerous weight and even found that he really liked cooking for both of them, it was a relaxing hobby for his abused patience. Kaname's recipes and passion for cooking helped, too.

Nickname for each other?

Hellion. Wanna-be-God. Reptilian calamity. Overdramatic narcissist. And so on. Not very difficult saying who's what.

What would they get each other for gift?

Kamishini no Yari's poison A guide on "how to survive your obsessed fangirls and still look cool". A set of dried sweet potatoes to thank him for the time Gin raided his fridge of all its contents and filled it with 12 kilos of hard-boiled eggs. How he managed to put them there without making the fridge explode was beyond him, but still. He'd be sure to make Gin pay for it.

What would they do if the other one was hurt?

It depends. On what, you'd ask. It's quite simple. It depends on who is responsible for the other's wound/hurt. If it were each other, then they'd be perfectly cool with it and not bother too much for it, just plot a gruesome revenge (the other isn't so weak and unproud to make a big deal out of something so trivial like hurt, isn't he? And if they were, it'd mean that they're not worth of the other's attention like they believed). If the culprit were not one of them, though, that person would probably be eviscerated or severally maimed before they could even complete the thought "I did it!". Because only they had the right (and the power) to wound or kill the other. None of them would ever let someone else in the way of this challenge between them.

Who remember things?

Both. They have entire metaphorical archives full of blackmailing material in organized folders against each other, carefully collected for more than 109 years. Aizen-taicho hates boiled eggs, Gin felt betrayed by sweet potatoes, Aizen would never go out without having checked the exact angle of his hair lock at least twice at minute, Gin becomes skittish every time Matsumoto or that bratty Lieutenant of his come in the picture, Aizen secretly fears Hinamori's obsession with him, etc...

They both made a mental note to remember that each of these things could be useful, sooner or later.

Their thoughts on the whole Fangirl and ships topic?

Disturbing. Fascinating and distur - Hinamori! For the umpteenth time, I'm fine and no, I don't need anything. You did a great job and you can go now! - bing.

Who cusses more?

Surprisingly enough, Aizen. Actually, Gin is the one that cusses frequently, steadily and on daily basis, but only for the fun of annoying Izuru's, Aizen's and Kuchiki-taicho's noble sensibility. But when he's in that mood that makes other people cuss, he'll communicate it with icy glares, a sharper edged grin or a overall crueler behavior. On the other hand, Aizen is the one that pledges himself as above things like annoyance, rage and (especially) a "crude language so beneath my godlike status caused by irrelevant emotions like irritation", as Gin decided to put it to make fun of him. But when he's really pissed like when Urahara doesn't take action, ruins his plans or Gin writes obscene kanjis on the board during his calligraphy lessons, he'll lose all control on his legendary composure and start cussing like a sailor. Hopefully, Kyoka Suigetsu prevents people from noticing it.

How often do they fight?

As a serious fight? Once every hundred and nine years, but it's "until death do us part". As just a way to kill time? Very very often, but it's never beyond a good deal of verbal jabs. You could almost consider it as their own fond way of saying hi to each other.

Are there any foods that make their stomach upset?

For Gin, no, there aren't. At least, Aizen has been conducting a research on the topic since the infamous lunch with still no result worth of notice. Ichimaru hates some foods, doesn't like others, but, by now, his stomach's completely anesthetized even to Rangiku's cooking after being subjected to it for so many years. And that's saying something, as far as Aizen is concerned. Not that he meant to imply anything about Matsumoto's cooking abilities, of course. Overall, he'd gulp down anything if needed.

Aizen instead is very picky about his food. He's a perfectionist here, like in every other aspect of his life. There's nothing able to upset his stomach, though. And even if there was, he'd never tell a soul. Ever. Gin had not to be encouraged to do anything stupid against him, no matter what.

Who's the most irritable during an hungover?

Gin. Aizen doesn't drink anything but his beloved tea and the occasional sip of fine wine. But Gin during an hungover is something Aizen wouldn't wish on anyone, not even Yamamoto or the Rei-o. A hissy, horribly-moody, vengeful cat you just woke by stepping on its tail is a cutie puppy in comparison to him. Really, it happened once and Aizen swore Gin should never end up with nothing more alcoholic than a glass of water, never again, for his own sanity's sake. Fortunately, Gin found that if he ate a dried persimmon after the drink he shared with his dear Rangiku, he couldn't get hungover. Still to this day, Aizen wasn't entirely convinced of the scientific accuracy of this theory, but given that it didn't happen anymore, he was willing to give him credit for it.

Have they ever tried to ruin the other's dates?

Life in Soul Society is particularly monotonous. This is a fact everyone agreed with and what's at the core of the matter. So, yes, they did, but only when paperwork became so painstakingly boring that it could be seen as something funny to do. Particularly, Aizen loved calling secret meetings between himself, Kaname and Gin as soon as he knew, because he did know, that Gin was in the middle of an especially good moment during a date with Rangiku (or even during a friendly walk with that Kira) just because Aizen could. On the other hand, Gin loved making fun of Aizen's utterly missing and more-dead-than-Omaeda's love life, despite the fact that half of shinigami and the recruits desired him and the other half either belonged to Byakuya fanclub or were just lying to themselves. So, he did not so much ruin Aizen's dates as he did try to set him up with absurd dates with psychotic and obsessed fangirls and fanboys that always left Aizen baffled at how much he had underestimated people' crazyness. An "I care about your love life, taicho, I try to find a good date for you because we can't have you become an old grumpy overlord with a dog as your only company at night, can we?" my ass. Bratty moron.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 41

Warnings: mention of mental health issues

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @ocfairygodmother​

She stands in the doorway that leads from the house into the garage, watching him as he works. Just three hours ago those hands -so big and strong, calloused and scarred, powerful- had been patiently and gently braiding his little girl’s pigtails; securing them with ribbons. Now they inspect a variety of automatic and semi-automatic weapons; stripping them down, cleaning every individual piece, then expertly putting them back together. His movements are methodical and efficient; never hesitating, never second guessing, just fluid, effortless motions of a man with years of experience behind him.

It’s been years since she’s seen him THIS intense. A level that only comes with the game; memories of past jobs and the things he’s had to do to survive and the knowledge that he’ll have to resort to them in the near future.   His lips set in a thin, stern line and his brow furrowed with both concentration and worry; eyes dark and focused. Haunted, even. A man whose fractured and tattered brain holds very vivid recollections of the things he’s seen and heard. Whose hands know what it’s like to take the lives of others; whether through hand to hand combat or with the squeeze of a trigger.   It isn’t an easy thing to do; even when your own life is in danger. You always wish there’s  another choice; one that won’t result in bloodshed and death.  You kill out of necessity, not desire or enjoyment. Not because you thrive on the snapping of bones or the sight and full of someone else’s blood covering your hands and body. Not because you ‘get off’ on the sick thrill of watching someone take their last breaths; seeing hope and then life drain from their eyes. You do it because if the shoe were on the other foot, they’d be rejoicing in your demise.

There ARE mercs like that; who have become accustomed to killing. Desensitized. Physically and mentally enjoying   the brutality and the finality. She’s witnessed it first hand; those that brag about their kills (the more gruesome the better) while their eyes glitter with victory and excitement.  But that’s not Tyler. It never has been. The reputation of a merciless, savage, stone killed killer being built upon hearsay and other peoples’ expectations on what he SHOULD be like. She’d known he was different right from the start; the moment she’d stepped foot into that shack in the outback and actually engaged laid eyes on him and engaged with him. She’d gone into that meeting with that reputation and all the gossip and stories fresh in her mind; preconceived thoughts and opinions that had initially clouded her judgment. She’d been surprised -pleasantly- to discover he wasn’t what other peoples’ running mouths had put  into her mind. Much younger than expected.  Far more attractive. With those blue eyes that held so many regrets and so much pain. Guilt. Even. So troubled and haunted; a man with deep, buried trauma and secrets. And she’d been the fortunate one; who’d gotten him to open up and let his guard down. Who’d helped him learn to trust -and more importantly, to love- again.

This is the old Tyler. The one standing in front of her now. The one that’s focused on the job and everything that comes with it. His personality is different; closed off, irritable, unapproachable. Yet she knows how to deal with it. With HIM. She’s walked on the particular batch of thin ice before; learning how to take the extra ‘edginess’ that creeps into his voice, the up and down moods that encompass everything pure and utter calm to volatile rage. She’s the one person who can engage with him during those moments. Confident that he’d never do or say anything to intentionally hurt her. It’s the nature of the beast. That bad that comes with such an unpredictable and dangerous existence.

“Is it okay to come in?” she asks. And when he looks up and glances towards her, she notices how his features momentarily soften; the creases on his brow disappearing, eyes lightening, a small smile curving his lips.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re just so into it. I didn’t want to bother you. Or get in the way.”

“Babe, you could never bother me. You know that.”

His words -and the obvious change in tone and demeanour- help quell her own anxiety and frayed nerves. It’s been a hell of a forty eight hours. The last half being especially  stressful; ews of more threats  and the upcoming arrival of Saju’s brother (who’d insisted that the only safe way to speak was to do so face to face) and both Nathan and Koen planning on coming to temporarily bunk with Ovi in the guest house. It’s just too much, too soon. And trying to fake ‘normalcy’ for the sake of children is not an easy thing; exhausting both physically and mentally.

“I come bearing gifts,” she says as she walks through the garage, the cement floor cool against the bottom of her feet. In one hand she holds a plate of food; filled to the edges with reheated leftovers from last night, in the other a bottle of water. “You haven’t eaten much since yesterday and I know how you get when you don’t fuel up properly. Where do you think Millie gets her ‘hangriness’ from?”

“That’s all you.”

“Please. You get so bitchy and ragey. And I don’t want to put up with that, so…” she offers him the plate. “...eat. Please. You can’t run on an empty tank.”

“You worry too much.”

“So? I worry. It’s what I do. You think you’d be used to it by now. Humour me, okay? I’m trying to take care of you here. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re not. But you ARE my husband and I love you and I just want to baby you sometimes. So swallow some of that  pride and toxic masculinity and let me do it. Stop being so difficult, Tyler James.”

He smirks at her use of his full name. “You’re stubborn.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever known. And I’ve known a lot of stubborn people. I’m trying to take care of you. It’s who I am. Do you want to make me cry?”

“Never.”

“Then shut the fuck up and eat something.”

“You know what..” a slow grin spreads across his face. “...you’re a pain in my ass.”

“It’s a very nice ass, though.” she praises, and he lays a hand on the small of her back and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah? Well yours isn’t half bad either,” he says, his hand sliding down to tightly grip one of the cheeks through the fabric of her shorts; pinching lightly as he kisses her. Long and slow and soft; her body rising up onto her tip toes and then leaning into his. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want you to ever say I don’t do nice things for you,” she teases. “I swear if I hear one negative out of you…”

“I’ll be nice,” Tyler promises, and then takes the plate of food from her. “You do spoil me. I’ll give you that. You good?”

“I’ve had better days,” she admits. “I’m a little...on edge. This is all happening so fast and it feels like I can’t even catch my breath. And then I see you in here doing this…” she nods in the direction of the table filled with weapons and plastic containers packed with various supplies scattered about. “...I didn’t think this would all happen so soon. It’s a little...overwhelming.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t have to.”

“I know. I’m not blaming you at all. It’s a messed up situation all around. And I know you’re just trying to protect us and I love you so much for that. I do. It just hurts. Watching you like this. Seeing the Old Tyler come back.”

He gives a nod in response, both brows arched.

“Not that I don’t love that Tyler because that’s the Tyler I fell in love with in the first place. It’s just scary. Thinking of you getting back into things.”

“You’re worried that new Tyler won’t come back.”

“A little, I guess. It’s okay with them both hanging around. But I don’t I’m ready to deal with just the old one. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But it’s how I feel.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures her, as his hands move to her side and he places a kiss on her temple. “He’ll come back. I promise.”

“Let’s just concentrate on what’s right in front of us,” she suggests, attempting to be more cheerful. “We have our weekend coming up and then  Millie’s birthday. Normal stuff. I need that right now. Normal. Our version of normal, at least.”

Tyler nods in agreement; kissing her once more before giving her ass a final squeeze and a light tap before carrying the plate of food to the work table across the room and perching himself on the edge.  He watches her as he eats. The way she slowly circles the table, eyes thoroughly scanning the various weapons; some cleaned and complete, others still in pieces. Old habits die hard, no matter how many times you attempt to kill them off. This had been very much her life as well; time in the corps, time on the job. Their skill sets vastly different; her the brains behind a mission, him the brawn.  But it’s still ingrained in both of them. And it fills him with both a sense of pride and sadness. Proud  how strong and intelligent and resilient she is; knowing what she’s capable of  and all the people she’s helped rid the world of and the lives she’s had a hand in saving. But also disheartened  that she even HAS to revisit her former existence.  She’d been more than willing to give it up, content in her decision to be a wife and a mother and concentrating solely on those things. And now her old self is making an appearance and he absolutely hates that for her. That she even has to think about anything job related, never mind the threats that have been made towards not only them, but their children.

“I don’t know who the guy is that gave you these things, but he is no rookie,” Esme comments. “It’s quantity AND quality. I don’t know I want to know how much you shelled out for all of this.”

“He owed me. A huge debt I could have collected on over the years but never did. So this is how he paid up.”

“Someone you were supposed to kill?”

“Something like that. People wanted him to suffer.  Thought it made more sense to keep him in one piece.”

“Good call. He’s obviously a guy you want on your team. There’s more where these came from?”

“If I need more I just have to ask. That’ll cost me though.”

“How much?”

Tyler shrugs. “Haven’t discussed stuff like that yet.  I thought you wanted normal. Because this...you...not normal.”

“This used to be. Normal,” she reasons. “The normal me.”

“It doesn’t have to be anymore.”

“It’s just kind of hard not to fall back into old habits. I figured as soon as you decided to get into it..to start a business...some of it might come back.”

“It doesn’t have to come back for you,” he points out.

“We’re a team, remember? Partners. Not just in marriage and being parents. In everything.”

Her fingertips skim over the barrel of an automatic rifle and he sees the look in her eyes; one he’s recognized some days when he glances in the mirror. The look of someone who has seen too much. Things a regular person can’t even begin to comprehend.

“What you take on, I take on.” she says.

“It doesn’t have to be that away.”

“It SHOULD be that way,” she argues, then sighs heavily and yanks her hand away from the gun, as if it’s dangerously hot to the touch and has scalded her skin. “Is it okay?” she asks, and then forces herself away from the table, nervously wringing her hands together. “The food?”

“It’s perfect. Didn’t realize I was this hungry. Thank you. You’re a good little wife.”

She sidles up next to him, placing the bottle on the table and leaning stomach first against the edge.  “I try. That’s what matters right?”

“Baby, you do more than try.  You get shit done.”

She gives a small smile, “You think they’ll be okay?” she asks, as her fingers absentmindedly pick at the label on the bottle of water. “The kids? While we’re gone?”

“We’ll only be gone three days.”

“It only takes a second for things to go to shit.”

“It’s not like we’re leaving them alone to fend for themselves. Ovi will be here. Nathan, Koen. The neighbor and her people have their eyes and ears on things. They’re in good hands. I’d be the first to say you’re not going if I thought otherwise.”

“It’s the first time leaving Addie for even an hour,” Esme frets. “I didn’t think I’d be this nervous about it. It’s not like she’s my first.”

“You’re a mom. Moms worry about their babies. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first or the last. It’ll be okay. THEY’LL be okay. We’ve got good people taking care of them. I wouldn’t leave them with just anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You don’t even like leaving me with just anyone and I’m an adult.”

“And we need this. Some time away. Just us.”

Esme nods in agreement. “You realize we haven’t been anywhere together...without kids...in seven years?”

“We were in Dhaka,” he teases.

“Dhaka does NOT count. We didn’t even really know each other then. And no, Tyler. Knowing someone’s favourite sexual position and where their G spot is does NOT count as knowing them. Regardless of what you think.”

“We went away for the weekend after we got married,” he reminds her. “To Byron Bay.”

“I was pregnant with Millie so technically we weren’t alone.”

“Still acted like honeymooners though.” he grins. “Even with a baby in you.”

“We still act that way,” she laughs. “And it’s been six and a half years since we got married.”

“Six and a half? Feels like sixty,” he chides.

She frowns.  

“I’m teasing,” he says, and leans in to kiss her. “That's a good thing though, yeah? That we still want to fuck each other as bad as we do?”

“It’s flattering. I mean, I’m not exactly the same  person I was when we first met. I definitely don't look the same.”

“Neither do I.”

“But you just get better with age,” she laments. “I just get worse and worse every day. I’ve just become more of a mes. And not a hot one either.”

“Stop.  Stop talking like that. I fucking hate when you do that.  I wish you could just see yourself the way I see you; if you just saw yourself for one second through my eyes. And maybe you’re right. Maybe it does make me biased because I think you’re the most beautiful woman on earth. Because I think you’re cute and sexy and everything and anything in between. But it doesn't make it less true. I wish you’d stop tearing yourself down like that. Because it fucking kills me inside and I don’t know what more I can do or say to make you see yourself like I do.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admits, her voice trembling, eyes welling with tears. “I just haven’t been ‘right’ in what seems like forever. Since before Addie was born. Maybe even before Declan. I thought maybe it was just postpartum and that it wouldn’t go away on its own. But now I realize it’s been there and it’s getting worse and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop talking like that.”

“But there is though.” Esme insists. “There’s something wrong. I don’t know what is; I just know it’s there. It’s always been there. Just sometimes it doesn’t bother me and other days it does  but I just cope with it and deal.  I don’t know what it is or how to stop it and just feels like it’s choking me and it’s trying to take over. And I don’t want it  to take over.”

Placing the nearly empty plate of food beside him, he reaches out and lays a hand on the back of her head. Drawing her into him; spreading his thighs as she stands between them, her head coming to rest on his chest. He doesn’t know what to say. If she even wants him to say anything. So he opts for silence. One hand still on her head, the other on the small of her back; securely holding her place, feeling the way her hands tightly grip the back of his shirt.  

“And it’s not you,” she speaks through tears. “I know you’re thinking it is. That it’s you and it’s getting back onto the job and all the stuff with Mahajan and the neighbour and all of that.”

“It doesn’t help.”

“But it’s not that. And it’s not you. You’re the only thing that feels right and makes sense any more. It’s like there’s something or someone sitting on my chest and squeezing my heart and it just keeps getting tighter and tighter and I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m drowning and I can’t save myself. Or maybe I just want to save myself.  Maybe I just want to take over and then I don’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“Don’t talk like that.”  It’s a plea; raw and emotional.  Torn apart inside by hearing those words come out of her mouth; feeling the tears that soak straight through his shirt.

He’s been there. That deep, dark place that threatens to swallow you whole.  You know you should be fighting like hell to scratch and crawl your way out of it, yet it seems so much easier to give in and let it take you. It’s tiring: physically and emotionally. All you want is relief. Even if it is permanent. But to hear her talk that? The one person who’d crawled into that dark place with him and helped him out of it? It’s a pain like he’s ever felt before.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she says. “I can’t battle my own mind like this. I’m tired.”

“I know you are.”

“And I can’t be a good wife and a good mother like this. I know I can’t. And you’d better off and they’d be better off it…”

“Don’t,” Tyler orders. “Just don’t. Don’t even say what I know is coming next. Because it’s not true. It’s never going to be true. I need you. And our kids need you. So don’t ever think otherwise.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t stop it. One day I feel fine and the next I feel like this.”

“There’s a lot going on,” he attempts to reason. And none of it is good and it’s making everything else seem a lot worse. We’re dealing with a lot of shit and…”

“And now I’m moaning and crying to you and you have enough to deal with. You don’t need me being a whiny little baby on top of it. You've got enough on your plate.   You don’t need this crap too.”

“Didn’t you just say ten minutes ago that we’re a team? That we’re in this together?”

“I didn’t mean this. I meant what you’re dealing with. Not my stupid shit.”

“It’s not stupid shit,” Tyler argues. “It’s very real and very scary shit.”

“But it’s MY shit.”

“It’s OUR shit. You’re more important than any of this other crap. You’re all that matters. You and the kids. Everything else can wait until we figure out what to do for you. You don’t make me deal with all my mental crap alone. Why would I make you do it by yourself?”

“I don’t know why I feel this way. I shouldn’t.  I have a great life. I have you and I have beautiful, healthy children and I’m in this amazing country and everything should be perfect. I should be happy.  And I AM. It’s not about you or the kids…”

“I know it isn’t. You don’t have to explain any of this to me. I’ve been there, remember? I’ve been in this place. Many times. And you’re the one that always gets me out of it.”

“But what if I can’t get out of it? What if it’s too late?”

“It’s never too late,” he assures her.

“And what if I don’t want to get out of it? What then?”

“That’s just your brain talking shit. That’s not you talking. You’re the last person who would just give up.  Just take a breath and try and relax. Don’t think about a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

She sniffles. “That’s pretty deep, Tyler.”

“I have my moments.”

“I’m sorry.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “For what?”

“Being like this. For being fucked up. This is NOT what you need right now. You have so many other things to worry about and I’m just making it all worse.”

“You’re the only thing that matters to me. You should know that by now. Everything else can wait.”

“Maybe we do need to go away.”

“That’s not a maybe. That’s a definite yes.”

“It just hurts,” she admits. “But I don’t know what hurts. Or how to stop it from hurting.”

“Are you taking your meds?”

“That’s a turn of events,” she gives a small laugh. “You asking me that.”

“Are you? Taking them?”

She nods.

“You promise.”

“Every day, same time of the day. Maybe they’re not strong enough.”

“Maybe you need to call the doctor. Or the therapist.”

“She’ll want us both to go in. And I know you hate going there. And it will just make you miserable.”

“But if that’s what would make YOU feel better…”

“I don’t need to go see her. I’ll be fine. It’ll go away. It always does.”

“And it always comes back,” Tyler points out.

“Maybe I just need those three days away. Maybe I need that time alone with you. God, that makes me sound like a horrible mother. Like I can’t stand my own kids and I can’t wait to be away from them. Like…”

“You know what?” He takes his face in his hands. “Stop. Everyone needs to get away. Even from their own kids. We have five under six.  If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

“I appreciate you stroking my ego and trying to make me feel better. I do. But…”

“Just stop,” He presses a kiss to her lips.  “It’s going to be okay. You’ve got a shit on your plate. That I put there.”

“Okay, YOU stop now. This isn’t about you, Tyler. This is me and my fucked up brain and…”

“And we’re going to deal with it. You think just any woman could deal with what you do? Not just five kids but everything else that you’ve got going on? Me and my bullshit? The job? Mahajan and all the Dhaka crap you’ve just still going up there? You think just any woman could put up with all that?”

She swallows noisily. “I guess not.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. That I’ve ever known. I love you and I need you and I don’t ever want to hear you say I don’t. That I’d be better without you. You know where I’d be without? Dead. That’s a maybe. And I’m  not just talking about what happened on the bridge. That was the start of it. There’s been tons of times since then that you’ve kept me going. So I don’t want to hear that shit come out of your mouth ever again. Understand me?”

Esme nods.

“Regardless of what your brain tells you. I need you here. My life is better because you’re in it. I wouldn’t even have a life if it wasn’t for you. In more ways than one.”

Her smile is brighter now, her grip on his shirt loosening.  “You really are getting sappy in your old age.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just love you and I don't want to do this life without you.”

“I love you,” she says. “You have no idea how much.”

“It’s fun to guess.”

“I don’t think you can count that high. It’s tough for a guy who has to drop his pants to count to twenty one. Good thing you never lost a finger or a toe.”

Tyler grins. “Smart ass.”

“I do love you. Maybe I loved you too soon. But it felt right and it felt perfect and I don’t regret it. Not for a single second.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips; thumbs clearing away the few remaining tears.  “It’s going to be okay,  baby. You’re going to be okay.”

“You know what would make me feel better?”

“If I went down on you?” he chides.

“Well yeah, that’s an obvious answer. But maybe that can wait until later. It would make me feel better if we could get out of here for a little bit. Just go into town for a while. Just us. I can get Ovi to watch Declan and Addie and we can just do whatever.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I gotta pick up something anyway.”

“What kind of something?”

“Something that’s none of your business. A surprise.”

“For me?”

“Maybe…”

“How will it be a surprise if I’m with you?”

“Stop giving me a hard time. I’ll distract you with ice cream.”

“Now THAT’S a good idea. Do you think you can spare some time? I know you’ve got a lot going on and…”

“I’ve got all the time in the world for you. I’ll just finish up here and lock everything up. It’s nothing I can’t do later.”

“AFTER you go down on me,” she teases.

“I promise I will do that first.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I’m going to freshen up. I probably look like shit.”

“You’re beautiful,” he informs her. “Even when you cry.”

“You really are the most biased husband on earth. I won’t hold it against   you though.” She places her hands on his shoulders and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I won’t be long.”

“Maybe you can find a pair of jean shorts and a yellow tank top,” he says, as she heads for the door.

She pauses on the threshold. “I was going to save those for our first day away. So I can be wearing those in the shack and you can be having serious deja vu.”

“And getting a serious hard on.”

“I don’t think Koen would appreciate you living out your kitchen table fantasy.”

“He doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

She grins. “I like the way you think. No wonder I married you. Smartest and best decision ever.”

“I knew your ex, remember? You definitely traded up.”

“I definitely did,”  she agrees.

He sighs heavily as he watches her go. Never remembering  a time he’d  felt this helpless.

****

He’d forgotten how nice it is when it’s just the two of them. Even something as simple as holding hands while wandering through the downtown core or leisurely browsing in stores and window shopping at others; sitting on a bench and ice cream while chatting and people watching. Little moments that so many take for granted and that he’d never realized he’d missed so much. Aside from a three day honeymoon (if it could even be called a honeymoon) in Byron Bay, the only time they’ve ever been truly alone was in Ireland after she’d arrived to help out with the Michael McMann fiasco. There’d been no kids to interrupt them and they could actually eat their meals together and have conversations where they could actually listen to what the other was saying; give one another their unwavering attention and concentrating on each other for change.  He’d missed his kids, naturally. Terribly.  But there’d been something...special...about that alone time with her.  

For six years they’ve put all their excess time and energy into raising a family. To the point they’d almost forgotten about what it was like to exist outside of that.   Only a year before they’d been strangers getting to know one another in Dhaka; in the most carnal way possible. Shortly after, everything had gone to complete and utter shit and he’d woken in a hospital bed with tubes and wires coming out of what seemed like every inch of his body and he’d been so relieved to see her sitting there. As if his brain had desperately wanted her to be there when it woke, and was terrified she wouldn’t be.  And then they’d found out she was pregnant with Millie and they were suddenly living together and struggling to learn how to co-exist as a couple and expectant parents. It hadn’t been easy. There had  even been times he’d wondered just what the hell he’d gotten himself into it. There was no way he was capable of being a husband and a father; carrying too much baggage and far too damaged for her to actually tolerate for too long.

Five kids later and she’s still hanging in there. Putting up with him even on his worst days and always looking at him like he’s the most incredible man on the entire planet. Always trusted; always feeling safe and secure and confident in his ability -and willingness- to protect her. And he’s not sure what he must have done in a precious life to deserve her, but he knows it must have been pretty damn good.

“Do I get to see what’s in there?” Tyler asks, when she emerges from one of the women’s shops with a paper bag -complete with ribbon around the handles and pink and purple tissue paper sticking out the top- clutched her chest.

“Nope. I told you. I was buying something for when we went away.”  She’s back to her normal self, or at a semblance of it.  The colour back in her face and the sparkle returned to her eyes.  And as much as she’d hate to hear him say it, she looks cute.  With her hair in a simple ponytail and just the slightest touch of eyeliner and mascara making those huge eyes stand out even more.  Clad in a simple cotton sundress dotted with black with yellow, pink and blue flowers.

“For me?”

She nods. “For me but for you at the same time. It’s a surprise.”

“A sexy surprise or…”

“I’m not telling you. Will you tell me what’s in yours?” she nods at the purchase he carries; a much smaller bag from the jewellry store three doors down.

“It’s not from me. It’s from the kids. They want to give it to you.”

“It’s from you. Don’t lie. Why do you want me to think it’s from the kids?”

“Because I don’t want you calling me cute or soft or romantic or any of that shit.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Is it cute and romantic?”

“Esme…”

She grins. “Tyler…”

“You give me a hint and I’ll give you one. Deal?”

“Fine. It’s two pieces.”

“What color is it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions. You said I just had to give you a hint. I gave you one. Now you get to wonder what it is for the next three days. What’s my hint?”

“It’s something you wear.”

“That’s a shitty hint!”

“It’s something sparkly that you wear.”

“Where do I wear it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions either. There’s two things, actually. One is from me, the other IS from the kids.”

“Two surprises? My birthday isn’t for two months. And it’s past Valentines Day and not even close to our anniversary. So you’ve either done something really bad or about to do something really bad and want to try and soften the blow.”

“Or...maybe…”  he lays a hand on her hip and pulls her into him. “...I just wanted to do something nice for you. Maybe I thought you deserve nice things and I don’t always come through with them.”

“I don’t need ‘things’. You know that.”  She’s never been a materialistic person; agreeing to marry him without even an engagement ring and not once, in six and a half years, ever mentioning the desire to have one. She’s simple and low maintenance; happy with just that rose gold wedding band and that weathered and frayed bracelet he’d bought off a vendor at the market in Dhaka. Seven years ago.

“I know. But I want you to have things. Don’t argue with me about the things.”

“Well I like the things?”

“I think you’ll  love the things.”

Both her arms wrap around his waist, two fingers on one hand hooking around a belt loop on his jeans, and her eyes sparkling as she smiles up at him. “As much as I love you?”

“I don’t know. How much is that?”

“A lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“As much as Millie loves glitter and unicorns. Times a million.”

He grins. “That’s a hell of a lot.”

“You can’t compete with that. You can say you love me more but there’s no way. There’s no way you can love me more than THAT.”

“I love you more than your son likes hot dogs in his spaghetti.”

She laughs, her forehead falling onto his chest. “Okay,  you win. Nothing can top your namesake’s love for that. I will never debate you again when you say you love me more.”

“You never stood a chance,” he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then lays a hand on the small of her back.

It’s both loving and protective without being overbearing.  The desire to keep her safe is the strongest it’s ever been; eyes constantly surveying the crowd even in their own small town.  Anxious to keep her as close as possible even as they walk the familiar sidewalks; pulling her tightly into his side or even bringing her in front of him if he feels someone passes by a little too close.  And it’s on one of these occasions, when he draws her into his right hip, that she feels the press of his holster against her.

“Really?” she asks.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

“You really they’d try anything with all these people around? And never mind that, do you really think someone could be watching us right now?”

“Michael McMann was watching me for a week in Guatemala and nearly two in Colorado and we had no idea.”

“But Salena..Allison...said they were keeping an eye on things. That they’d contact us if they heard of any close by threats.   It thought these people were still in India.”

“That’s what she said. Who’s to say Mahajan doesn’t have contacts that already live here.”

Esme  frowns. “Have you noticed anything weird.”

“Nope.”

She stops walking. “Tyler…”

“Just keep walking okay. Walk in front of me.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Please? Just walk in front of me. I’d feel better if you were in front of me.”

“There’s someone watching us right now isn’t there.”

“I don’t know for sure. So just do me a favour…” he places his hand back on her hip and guides her in front of him, then moves his palm to the back of her neck. “...just walk. Normally.  Don’t rush. Just pretend that everything’s fine.”

“Oh God,” she grumbles.

“Just a guy that’s been every place we’ve gone. Seems a little too interested in what we’re doing. Always looking away when I catch him watching us. He’s mostly looking at you so it could be just some fucking asshole checking you out.”

“Why would anyone check a woman out while she’s with her husband? Especially a husband that’s built like you?”

“He’s a pretty big guy.”

“Bigger than you?”

“Not by much.”

“Not by much? You're six three and you weigh two thirty five. That’s big enough!"

“It’s probably nothing. Normally they don’t like to call attention to themselves.”

“Who’s they?”

“Bad people. Usually they’re not that noticeable. He’s just been a little too...I don’t know...around.”

“Maybe he’s checking you out and thinks YOU’RE the hot one,” she teases.

“Stop here.  I want to stand with your back against me and pretend you’re taking a selfie but you’re really taking a picture of him. Okay?”

“I haven’t done shit like this in a while,” she frets.

“Just relax and do it. Trust me.”

Sighing heavily -and nervously- she leans with her back pressed against his front and takes his cell phone as he offers it to her. Plastering a fake smile on her face in hopes of not seeming suspicious. The man in question passing by mere seconds later; at least three inches taller than Tyler and maybe twenty pounds heavier. He doesn’t even glance in their direction; not even the slightest bit of side eyes or a glance over his shoulder as he continues down the sidewalk.

“Get it?” Tyler asks.

She nods and turns and tucks his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“Good job, baby,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Good job.”

“Can we go home now?” She’s dangerously close to tears; entire body trembling. “I want to go home now.”

“It’s okay.” he lays a hand on the side of her face. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I just want to go home. Please take me home.”

“Okay,” he says, then kisses her softly before wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her in the direction of the truck.  “We don’t have to leave. It was probably nothing. Just me being paranoid.”

“I regret all the times I ever called you that.”

“Three quarters of the time I WAS being paranoid.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“Calm down. Everything’s fine. YOU’RE  fine. I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to happen to you when I’m with you. You should know that by now.”

“Let’s just go home. I’ll feel better when I’m home.”

“Alright. I’ll get you home.”

She snakes his arm around his waist and leans into his side; head tucked under his arm.  “It’s going to be okay, right? We’re going to be okay?”

“We’re going to be just fine,” he assures her. And hopes he sounds more confident than he feels.

[queencarolinemikaelson]

//klaroline au week// - day 6: canon-ish

This definitely requires the ‘ish’ after ‘canon-ish’. It takes place right after the sacrifice at the end of season 2. Caroline dies as the vampire sacrifice, Klaus is successfully killed, and Bonnie uses her power to resurrect Caroline. Similar to how she brings Jeremy back. What will the aftermath of this sacrifice be?

///

“Caroline…”

“Caroline?”

“Caroline!”

Caroline woke with a start, disorientated. She felt the phantom racing of her heart, even if only as a feeling of the past.

She took deep, calming breaths, attempting to centre herself after her abrupt rouse from slumber.

She was different, in the months since the sacrifice. It wasn’t good different, or even bad different, necessarily. It was just different.

Of course, as Bonnie had said, Caroline’s experience with the sacrifice was possibly unique.

“Caroline, you’ve died and come back in some form twice now,” Bonnie said to her, months ago, just before the witch left for a summer away from the supernatural life in Mystic Falls. “You died your human death, then the vampire magic brought you back. Then when Klaus killed you in the sacrifice, you died a vampire’s death, and my magic brought you back. There is no blueprint for what that kind of magic will do to a being.”

Bonnie’s words of course, rang true with Caroline. All actions had consequences, after all.  

And, little by little, Caroline started to notice things. Different experiences that were inexplicable, but tangible.

The first instance had been quite innocuous, really. She was alone in the middle of the woods, and suddenly she felt a presence, like there was someone there, but just beyond her field of vision at every point.

This happened for a week or so, and from there, she began feeling… energies. It was similar to the first occurrence in the woods, except each presence emanated different vibes. Like the subtle differences in wine flavours. A chardonnay and a moscato were both white wines, but they still were very different.  

She just began trying to distinguish different features of each energy, jotting down her experiences, but then then the dreams started.  

A few times a week she would wake suddenly, after a fitful night of amber coloured, feral eyes, and someone whispering ‘Caroline’ intermittently over hours.

When the dreams began, she stopped feeling the energies. It was a relief of sorts; she didn’t have to be on guard every waking hour. But after weeks of poor sleep, she thought she would readily trade her restless nights, with peculiar days.

It was all quite off putting, but she made the conscious decision to deal with it on her own for the time being. No one was getting hurt, and she was just a little uncomfortable from time to time. Also, she had no idea how to even broach the topic if she wanted to anyway.

Besides, there was so much else going on that rendered her discomfort quite the back burner issue in the goings on of Mystic Falls.  

There was her friendship with Tyler, that was growing stronger by the day. There was Matt, who was still pointedly ignoring her at every chance she got. There was her mother who was just getting her head around her daughter the vampire, Caroline wasn’t going to pile any more weird unknown supernatural things onto their relationship just yet.

Then there was the kicker.

Stefan was still missing.

In the crazy aftermath of the sacrifice, Caroline was still a little fuzzy on how it all played out. But she had been provided all important notes.

After Caroline was sacrificed, Klaus swiftly moved on to Elena. From there, his werewolf transformation began. This was where Bonnie came in, channeling the incredible power of the full moon, the sacrifices, and the ancestral witches, Bonnie brought Klaus to the brink of death. While Klaus fought against Bonnie’s onslaught and for his life, as defenseless as he had ever been, Elijah delivered the final blow, ripping Klaus’ heart from his chest.

Whenever Caroline thought about what transpired while she was dead, she couldn’t help but feel terribly sad for Klaus. What a betrayal, and what a gruesome way to die. She knew she was supposed to hate Klaus, but she wouldn’t have wished that death on anyone, not even Klaus.

Caroline was told it all happened very quickly after Klaus died. Bonnie, suddenly able to channel the power of the death of a Hybrid as well, turned her grief of losing her two best friends, to resurrecting them. Having already weaved a spell to protect Elena with John Gilbert, Bonnie let her magic flow completely into Caroline.

Caroline remembered that bit, or at least, she remembered taking a sudden gasping breath after an oppressive nothingness. Immediately following Caroline’s return, a new figure appeared on the seen, an irate and distraught blonde woman. They since discovered the woman was Rebekah Mikaelson, Klaus and Elijah’s only sister. She knocked Elijah away from Klaus’ desiccating body and the they began to fight him. It was a battle unlike Caroline had ever seen, two exceptionally powerful beings at total war with each other.

At some point or other, Rebekah noticed Stefan who was skirting around the furore, in a vain attempt to get to Elena’s corpse. For some reason this caught Rebekah’s attention, and before anyone could do anything else she snapped Elijah’s neck, then Stefan’s. And the she was off with the limp bodies of her two brothers, and with Stefan’s.

And none of them had seen any of them since.

They had managed glean a vague idea of what Rebekah and Stefan were up to, thanks to Caroline and her mom using resources at the Sheriff’s department to track their movements throughout the summer. Though, every lead that was passed onto Damon seemed to run cold.

Apparently, Rebekah was traipsing across the entire country, searching for something. They just hadn’t figured out what yet. And for whatever reason, Stefan was with her, and he was staying with her, and they hadn’t figured out why that was either.

As for Elijah, that was another thing they didn’t know. They assumed Rebekah had a dagger of her own she made use of, though no one could know for sure. And because of this, Caroline felt slightly uneasy knowing he could be back at any minute.

So here Caroline was, an entire summer later, with things just settling down, she didn’t want to put more supernatural drama onto anyone. She could deal with the spine tingles, fear, and few nights a week of restless sleep, if it meant her friends were better off.

Though as she lay in her bed that morning, Caroline resolved to talk to Bonnie if it got worse. That way there would actually be cause for concern.

Throwing off her bed covers, Caroline dressed with faux-excitement – fake it til you make it right? Because today was Elena’s 18th birthday.

And no matter how mopey Elena had been over Stefan’s disappearance, no matter how messed up everyone was feeling, tonight would be a party to remember if Caroline had anything to say about it.

//

“Hey!” Caroline beamed, as she sat beside Tyler at the Grill.

“Hey, Care,” he replied. “How’s it going?”

She was poised to answer, when that feeling of being watched tingled through her, and she heard a voice whisper her name.

She whipped around, attempting to find the owner of the voice. But there was no one. Plus, it sounded inexplicably like the same voice who whispered to her in her dreams.

Now this was a development. She had never heard that voice during the day before.

“You okay?” Tyler asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Caroline thought about confiding in Tyler. If anyone could handle it, surely it was him? But what would she say? Something happened to me when I died and came back for the second time, so now I feel enigmatic energies, have nightmares, oh and hear voices now too apparently.

“Yeah, I’m okay, I guess I didn’t sleep well last night.”

//

“You’ve outdone yourself, as usual Caroline!”

It was later that day, and the compliment came from Jenna, who was coming down the stairs with Ric, about an hour after the party began.

“Yeah, really Caroline, why anyone else tries to throw events, I have no idea,” Ric added.

Caroline smiled at the two lovers. After all the bad stuff that happened to them over the past few months, it was nice having Jenna in the loop, and nice to see a bit of normalcy from the young couple.  

“Don’t have too much fun!” Caroline said. “You are the chaperones, remember.”

As the two adults laughed and walked away, Caroline tried to pretend she was having a good time, tried beaming around at all her hard work paying off.

But she couldn’t.

On top of all Caroline’s other issues, Elena was still mopey, Matt was simultaneously drunk and high, and was still managing to ignore her as loudly as he could. And then there was Tyler.

Now, logically, Caroline knew she had little claim to Tyler. After their kiss months earlier, she turned him down, she said no.

But, boy, he was grinding all over slutty Sophie, and, god, it was grinding her gears.

How dare he. Seriously.

“Hey, great party, Caroline,” Sophie said, as she and Tyler left the mosh pit.

“Thanks!” Caroline said, the word dripping with insincerity. “Now leave it.”

Sophie obliged with a pleasant smile, and not a word. Of course she would, compulsion will do that to a person.

“What the hell?” Tyler said, indignantly.

Caroline just rolled her eyes, and brushed past him.

As she melted into the crowd, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Mixed in amongst the faces of her drunk class mates was a face that couldn’t be there.

It was lit with a smug smirk, and there was a calculating glint in his eye.

“Klaus?” Caroline said, weakly.

He flicked his eyebrows at her, but at that moment, one of her class mates bumped her, breaking her concentration, and when her head shot back to where Klaus was standing, he was gone.

Rattled, she decided she needed a real drink. Surely some O+ would settle her nerves.

//

“What’s your problem? You pissed that I brought someone?”

It was half an hour later, when Caroline made it down the stairs after her blood-bag pit stop, and Tyler was already in her face. 
Could she not catch a break today?

“Why would I be pissed?” she answered, petulantly. “You brought a date, you’re dating! That’s awesome.”

She stalked away from him, she had bigger fish to fry that evening, like getting so wasted she could forget she was seeing faces in crowds.

It was useless, however, as Tyler just followed her and said, “should I not be dating?”

“Hey, you’re horny all the time, right?” she shot back. “I mean a guy has needs!”

“He sure does, sweetheart.”

“What did you say?” she snapped, as for the second time that day she spun around, trying and failing to find the face of someone whispering in her ear.

Caroline’s skin was crawling. She knew it wasn’t Tyler who said it, and she knew the voice didn’t come from one of her class mates. But she shuddered to think that maybe the voice from her dreams, and the voice that had been following her all day, belonged to the same dead man who mysteriously appeared in a crowd of drunk teenagers only thirty minutes earlier.  

“I didn’t say anything,” Tyler pouted, sulking at Caroline’s harsh tone. “What’s the matter with you?”

Caroline scrambled to find the best way to dodge his question.

And, maybe it was because she was drunk, or maybe she just wanted to shut him up, or maybe she was just so on edge about her rapidly deteriorating grip on reality, but she grabbed Tyler by the lapels and kissed him.

They kissed ferociously for a few moments before Tyler pulled away.

“Let’s get out of here?” he asked, panting his way through the words.  

“Uh uh.”

//

Much much later, Caroline found herself tiptoeing as quietly as possible out of the Lockwood Mansion.

Sex may have been great, and an excellent distraction, and she may truly have some sort of feelings for Tyler – maybe. But that still didn’t make up for the fact that when she drifted off for some post-coital sleep she fell straight back into her nightmare.

A voice, endlessly calling to her, reeling her in. And the eyes, those amber eyes, suddenly had a face to go with them.

His face.

Klaus.

So, when Caroline woke with a start, as was inevitable, she silently donned her dress, and slipped from the room.

There was nothing else for it, she would have to talk to Bonnie. If Klaus was somehow haunting her, or whatever, having a well-informed witch on her side would be only an advantage.

Caroline was just about to reach the front door, when none other than Carol Lockwood appeared, looking ever so judgemental. Curse her bad luck!

“Mrs Lockwood! Hi,” Caroline said, as innocently as possible.

“Leaving so soon?” the older woman asked, pointedly.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to be so… I mean, we were just….” Caroline floundered, her ears still ringing with Klaus’ whispers. “I’m gonna get my purse.”

She reached for her little silver bag, and as she touched it her hand began to burn. Before she could turn around, pain exploded through her back, quickly permeating her body, as Carol shot her full of vervain.

Caroline quickly lost consciousness, and she saw Carol’s concerned but determined face loom over her – and in Caroline’s last moments before the darkness claimed her, she was sure she saw the grinning face of Klaus waving at her over Carol’s shoulder.

//

Hope you liked! Not a hell of a lot of KC for KC AU week, but the things we do for the sake of exposition. The aim is for this to be a multi-chapter story??? Let me know if you’re interested. If I can actually keep writing with the vim I have been this week, this will hopefully end up being a bit of a season 3/4 TVD and 1 TO rewrite. I have a semblance of an outline, and a few chapters in the bank, but who knows with me. I’m really great at starting stories and not finishing them. Once I can figure out a name, I will post it to the places. No beta though, as per, and I hate editing so soz for mistakes. 

See you tomorrow for the final day!! I’ve been loving reading all the things from the other days!!! And I’m sad I never got my stories finished for Tues/Thurs/Fri so I could participate more!! <3 <3

[aforgottenballad]

Feelings on Sally Face Episode 5

Under a read more for obvious reasons, includes heavy spoilers and potentially triggering subjects. 

Disclaimer: I might miss-remember some parts of the story or have missed a piece of lore that would settle minor complaints. I am however disappointed in the ending as a whole and in some of the very harmful tropes included in it. But I’m also just some dude online with an opinion, and you can stop reading at any time. 

Rant under cut. 

Alright ya’ll. I’ve had a couple days to digest the ending to Sally Face.  While playing, I genuinely enjoyed some elements of the game. The chapter started on a dark but nearly hopeful note. Neil and Ash were still working to bring the cult down. It seemed likely Sal would be resurrected. Todd had apparently escaped the hospital, and that had potential to be either a very very good or very very bad thing. Maple was possessed by whatever fucked up the souls of the other apartment tenants, but hey! At least her and Neil weren’t in on the cult like so many fans predicted. Unfortunately, this series has a way of getting darker and darker as it progresses.  First thing that bugged me was the lore drop about how the cult was founded.  A Native American tribe. Right. Because why wouldn’t Indigenous peoples be in a story without being part of some mystical occult backstory, portrayed as mysterious historical props who worshiped something dark and evil instead of being portrayed as human beings. 

But I continued. I really enjoyed playing as Ashley and getting some insight into her character. I enjoyed the task of planting the C4 in the temple... catacomb... thing. We get to see Travis again! I was excited that a lot of us were right about him being indoctrinated but also working to fight the cult from the inside. We knew he had some good in him after all. 

When Ash tries to resurrect Sal, we get even more insight into her character, and unfortunately a lot of it is “Grieving, distraught, and full of self-blame”. I want to hug her.  Sal’s spirit is apparently revived by those pyramids, and he can dimension warp. We meet Jim, or what’s left of him, and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything anymore but agrees to help Sal anyway. This is, narratively speaking, weird as hell. His entire character arc for four episodes was “Loved his family so much he sacrificed himself to save them”, and suddenly he’s just some glowy dude attached to Magic Spirit Tubes who doesn’t give half a shit. I guess it makes sense as a way to wrap up why he’s been able to drift between worlds but... if he doesn’t care about any of that anymore why help Sal? And what about Rosenberg? Is she like Jim, or do we just have to assume she’s magical because her family helped found the cult? (Explained in an easter egg later on, because this game doesn’t just drop its lore. Not even the CRUCIAL lore. You have to achievement hunt for it.) Sal can enter various doors in the House In The Void to step into alternate realities, and this was my favorite aspect of the game. Each door has a different art style, and I really liked seeing these alternate realities. Steve probably worked the hardest and longest on drawing out and coding these scenes. I genuinely applaud the man for the work put into this endeavor I’m assuming all by himself. 

Meanwhile, Ash tries to unbind Larry’s soul from the tree house he died in, which doesn’t work. Did we ever find out why his body was never found? No? Ok that seems important.

After each puzzle, Sal’s body is restored a little bit at a time, but even after turning on all the pyramids and solving the mysteries behind all three doors, he can’t make it back to the “real” world. So Ashley kills herself. Or tries to. Because apparently that’s the only way to complete the ritual, and also because she feels really bad about not unbinding Larry’s soul and about not fixing Sal. Again, I want to hug her, but I have to watch her hurt herself instead, cause Steve doesn’t let us have nice things.

Okay, so this is a gorey game. We know. But one of the BIGGEST no-nos suicide prevention networks will tell you when consulting them about mental illness and suicide in media is NOT to show a graphic suicide in progress. Steve is aware a lot of his fans are A) Young teens to young adults B) Struggling with mental illness. 

His main character suffers from depression and anxiety and this fact has resonated with hundreds of fans. It’s irresponsible to purposefully include a graphic suicide attempt, but he did it last chapter, showing a gunshot suicide’s aftermath, then he did it again with Ashley. Call me a wiener if you like, point out the graphic scenes from earlier in the game and call me a hypocrite for not being upset by that, but you have to admit the Spongebob-close-up-shot look to those scenes have a totally different feel. Speaking as someone who actually has a pretty thick skin, but is concerned about the fans who might be in a worse place or who could be as young as 12, that was fucked up. 

Anyway, Ash’s attempt doesn’t take, because she’s struck by magic lightning, which infuses Sal’s soul into her. Now her arm is one of those stretchy sticky hands, but with bio luminescence and the ability to kick cultist ass. I actually thought this part was really cool, and was super ready to go on a cultist smacking spree. But again, we can’t have nice things and before we get to do anything badass we have to look at gruesome imagery again. 

You get to see Void Larry, who is now old and a wizard or something, but first...

Surprise! Maple and Neil are dead! Not just dead, but hung up from hooks covered in blood! And naked! 

Hey?? Hey Steve????? You know how they’re both POC?? And that lynching imagery is EXTREMELY NOT GOOD?!!????

“Two white people are hung up with them” YEAH? WELL WE’VE NEVER SEEN THOSE CHARACTERS BEFORE. THEY’RE JUST RANDOM PEOPLE.

I’ve seen people arguing “The white characters go through terrible things too” but it’s still really fucked up that by the end of the game, every. Single. Person of color. In the game. Has died. Gruesomely. It’s a gorey, dark, bleak game, and white characters die as well, gruesomely; but not all of them. None of them that are named are shown strung up, naked. That’s fucked up. That isn’t okay. 

There are also a total of three gay characters in this game. One is Todd, who goes through the standard “bad bad stuff” the game is used to, is the white one, and he survives. One is Neil, one of the aforementioned people of color who died horribly and who only really existed to be Todd’s boyfriend and therefore a source of angst for Todd when he dies. The third is Travis, another man of color, and an abuse victim, who dies to fulfill his character arc as an abuse victim, which is also really shitty to see over and over again as an abuse survivor. 

Look, I know Steve pulled a lot of inspiration from old TV shows and horror series that probably weren’t all “politically correct”. I know it’s always been kind of an edgy and dark game. I know Steve probably didn’t think about the repercussions of all his narrative choices. But I also know he actively ignored some people offering to educate him on issues he has no experience with. I know he worked hard on this game, by himself, but we as fans have paid him and waited for years and it isn’t selfish or ungrateful to be hurt and disappointed. He knows his audience is diverse, he knows a lot of us were attracted to the game because of a gender nonconforming main character, a main character who struggles with mental illness, a cast that isn’t 100% white and conventionally attractive. Of course he didn’t need to change the plot for us! It’s his game, his vision, but the least he could have done is research how to not actively hurt and alienate a good portion of us.  I don’t think anyone is bad or racist for still finding solace in the characters and in what the story was before this, I’m not attacking you personally, whoever is reading this. I, personally, still have loads of Sally Face art in my queue, I still have active role plays going on, my Sal wig is sitting like 8 feet away waiting for the next time my friends want to take cosplay pictures. I still enjoyed playing the game for the most part. Without this game I wouldn’t even know most of my current friends. It’s just really shitty how it ended like this, and a lot of people I talk to daily either feel too sick to even talk about the game anymore after seeing people like them treated like trash by the narrative or try to focus on the good things they got out of just being part of the fandom but don’t feel comfortable supporting the developer anymore. 

Even if there wasn’t all these hurtful tropes packed into the game, and yes, even after unlocking the epilogue, the game just feels cold. It feels rushed, probably because of how much time went into the alternate dimension gimmick. I wish Steve had at least consulted people over the script. It felt like not only did he pour all his work into experimenting with the mixed media, he also just took whatever expectations the fans had and went somewhere completely different just to have his story be “unpredictable”. That isn’t always a good thing. Plot twists, downer endings, dark and scary imagery, all of these things can be done beautifully, but in this case it felt like he just wanted the series to end. The game didn’t subvert expectations, it fed into the harmful stereotypes and tropes all the fans were so hopeful it wouldn’t. 

...On top of not making any sense unless you’re able to 100% all the puzzles. And even when you do, it feels like all the bad stuff happened for no reason. The ending doesn’t conclude anything. Even when you unlock the epilogue, all it tells you is that a third of the world has died and that the main cast haven’t accomplished much besides “Trying to help”. Sal and Todd have powers now, but that isn’t elaborated on much. Larry’s spirit is missing, if he even exists in any plane at all anymore. It doesn’t even mention what’s going on with Ash.  It just feels like nothing mattered. 

[welllpthisishappening]

Getting Chirpy

A few weeks ago @distant-rose was like...what if there were fans who were upset about Will’s nickname for Matthew Jones?? Because Dr. J was a very famous basketball player. And I was like that’s actually hysterical. It’s taken some time, but it’s been a day and a half for Ro and she deserves some hockey feelz. So here’s that. In, like, spades. 

“Ok, ok, ok, I know we’re not supposed to look at headlines, but—“

“—Are you looking at headlines, Lucas?”

“Shut up, Cap,” Ruby snapped, slamming the door behind her and marching into the restaurant with a purpose that made Emma sit up a bit straighter. She winced at the movement, the bench unforgiving against the small of her back and several different worried glances shot her direction.

She rolled her eyes.

“Hey,” Ariel muttered, leaning over the top of the bar and pointedly ignoring Eric’s rather pitiful attempts to stop her. Her feet weren’t touching the ground anymore. “Here.”

Emma blinked when she realized what was being thrown her direction – a goddamn pillow and she probably should have known, but it was the beginning of the season and maybe things had been a little more hectic this time around because this time around she also had a recently-turned-three-year-old to contend with and a home opener that was a week later than usual and—

“Don’t ask,” Ariel warned, rolling her eyes when Killian tried to object or explain or something. It didn’t really matter one way or another because everyone in that entire restaurant knew Emma was going to covet that pillow like it was made of actual gold.

That had totally been his plan.

Idiot.

“I think he’s got some stashed everywhere,” Robin mumbled knowingly. He didn’t move his eyes towards Emma though, far too preoccupied with that recently-turned-three-year-old. Matt was perched on the edge of the stool, laughter ringing in the air around him and both his hands resting on Robin’s jacket, David hovering a few feet behind to make sure the whole thing didn’t dissolve into disaster.

“Where else would he put them?” Emma asked.

“Think of a place and they’re probably there.”

“That’s insane.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you.”

Emma laughed, squirming again when the pillow seemed to rebel agains the bottom of her spine and she couldn’t figure out where to put her arms. There was just…way too much in front of her and of her and several other ways of expressing the words far too pregnant without actually saying those words because they felt kind of horrible in that particular order.

“This one’s been here for seriously years,” Ariel shrugged. “I think he forgot it was here.”

“You know I’m sitting right here, right?” Killian asked, the words barely audible when he didn’t move his mouth away from the glass in his hand. Water. All water all the time.

It’s the start of the season, Swan.

And probably something about her inability to drink alcohol.

He was the world’s biggest idiot.

Ariel shrugged again. “That doesn’t exactly sound like an objection. How long has this pillow been here?”

“I genuinely do not know.”

“And you don’t think that’s a problem?”

“Why did you know it was there?”

“You do know that this is my restaurant, right, Cap?” Ariel seethed, waving another distracted hand over her shoulder when Eric started to object to that particular point. “Like. I’m letting you hang out here. With your home goods.”

“I legitimately forgot it was there.”

“The first step is admitting you have a problem,” Will muttered, not quite able to keep the laughter out of his voice while Robin and David made eerily similar noises. “Em, if I get more onion rings, you want to split ‘em with me and Dr. J?”

Emma shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m sorry, what? Are you turning down onion rings? Cap, are you hearing this? Shouldn’t you be going into imminent second child crisis mode?”

Robin mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like shut up, Scarlet, groaning when Matt moved onto his thighs and it took less than a full second for David to pull the kid into his arms – earning several kicks for his efforts. Mary Margaret took a picture. It was even more impressive with her own kid in her arms.

And Killian grinned at Emma.

She was going to throw the pillow straight at his face.

She wasn’t entirely sure she could move enough to do that.

“That’s not what’s happening here,” Killian grinned, moving across the restaurant quickly and easily and it probably wasn’t supposed to be attractive but stupid pregnant was basically Emma’s excuse for everything at this point. He tapped the side of her ankle when he stopped short of the booth, but Emma didn’t move, just twisted her lips and waited for whatever slightly strange game of flirting they were playing to move to the next level.

Or whatever.

She’d lost total control of the metaphor.

God, she wanted onion rings. And like…maybe just straight onions? That was a disgusting thought.

Killian chuckled lightly, hooking his forearm under her calves and lifting her feet up so he could sit down. He couldn’t quite mask his own groan when her heels collided with that one bruise on the side of his thigh, and that probably should have worried her more. She was far too distracted by whatever his thumb was doing against the top of her shin, tracing out absent-minded circles with a smile on his face and a secret stash of pillows across the greater Manhattan area.

“Was anyone going to explain what was happening here, then?” Will demanded. Killian didn’t look at him, didn’t stop moving his thumb either, but his lips twitched slightly and it took a few seconds for him to twist enough that his right hand landed on Emma’s side.

“You are a menace,” she accused, and he hummed in response. She wished he’d stop doing that thing with his mouth. She hoped he didn’t stop doing that thing with his mouth.

“Yes, and I’m pretty sure our kid learned his distinct lack of limb control from you, Swan.”

“Wow, that’s rude.”

“An observation.”

“Still,” Emma argued, and she’d forgotten entirely about the rest of the restaurant and whatever Regina-esque metronome Ruby was tapping out with her heel. “Not exactly positive.”

“His flailing limbs are not inherently negative.”

“Whatever. I refuse to take responsibility for that. You’re the professional athlete. Teach him better and while you’re at all it, deal with the other one.”

She’d done it mostly – entirely – for the reaction and the gasp that swept across the entire restaurant was oddly satisfying, Killian’s eyebrows jumping up his forehead and lips parting slightly and Matt was standing on top of the bar now.

“Doing backflips,” Emma continued, like that wasn’t a huge deal or endearing or several other words she didn’t want to consider when Killian’s entire hand moved over the swell of her stomach. “Or running sprints or something.”

Killian’s head snapped up – eyes bright and smile wide and for one vaguely distracting moment Emma considered jumping him in the booth. That would probably end with the pillow on the floor though, and she didn’t want to challenge her spine like that, and there’d been rumors of possible bed rest at the last doctor’s appointment and—

“Was anyone going to actually get Emma the onion rings she wanted?” Mary Margaret asked, and it shouldn’t have been surprising she knew. It wasn’t really. “Because I think Killian’s kind of forgot and Ruby looks like she wants to kill all of us.”

“Oh, you’re all going to die incredibly gruesome deaths for whatever nonsense I just had to witness,” Ruby announced. She slung an around Roland, muttering words when he tried to pull away and keep playing some form of pick-up hockey with Henry that just looked like them trying to bounce the puck on their stick for prolonged periods of time. “But it did actually kind of segue into the headlines that, just for the record, Cap, it’s my job to know about.”

“Then why did you ask?” David asked archly.

“David, you were the one who told me!”

There was another collective notes – oohs and ahhhhs and the matching sounds of Will and Ariel’s laughter. She’d jumped onto the bar as well at some point, Dylan moving onto her lap and Matt hanging off her back and Ruby was absolutely all going to kill them.

“It’s Scarlet’s fault,” David argued. That got Will to stop laughing.

“Wait, what?”

“You think you’re way too clever.”

“I mean, that’s true,” Killian mumbled, hand still on Emma’s stomach and something that felt a hell of a lot like flirting settling on his face. Again. Or whatever.

“Ruby’s going to kill you first,” Emma chided.

It sounded a bit like Ruby growled. And Roland hissed when her arm apparently tightened too much. “Ah, damn,” she sighed. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, Rol. Listen, I need you to blame everyone else on this team for whatever is happening.”

“You haven’t actually said what’s happening, Ru,” Roland reasoned.

“Smart kid.”

“Rubes, you are not doing yourself any favors with this storytelling,” Emma said. “Burying the lede as it were.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes, hooking her chin over Roland’s shoulder and leveling Emma with a stare like she was worried she was going to do something detrimental to her health if she said anything. “It’s really not bad,” she started, eyes flitting towards Killian. “It’s just…kind of absurd.”

“How absurd?”

“Like literally the most absurd thing that’s ever happened to us.”

“Hands down,” David added, Emma and Killian groaning in tandem.

“If this is about playing and Mattie…” Killian said, voice low and slightly captain and Emma moved her fingers towards the back of his neck. She tried, at least. There was just…so much of her.

Ruby waved her hands through the air. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s, ok, apparently someone in David’s precinct is, what what would you call it?”

“A super Nets fan,” David finished.

Emma blinked. “The Nets? Like the basketball team?”

“One and the same.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

It took Robin, exactly, one head tilt and a slightly strangled gasp to understand. Emma still didn’t. Killian’s hand didn’t move. “Oh my God,” Robin shouted. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, David is right, Scarlet. This is all your fault.”

“How do you figure?”

“How did anyone find out?” Robin asked, glancing at David. Mary Margaret answered.

“I think it’s actually my fault.”

It couldn’t have been good for Emma’s blood pressure to keep being surprised like that. She hadn’t gotten her onion rings yet. “You guys are all absolute garbage at telling stories. Also, if any of you let my kid fall off that bar, I’m not going to stop Killian from inevitably suffocating you with this pillow.”

“Yeah, he’d do it too,” David mumbled, flashing Emma an apologetic smile. “Ok, so, uh…I had to work a couple days ago when we played the Stars? But Cap scored that goal and Mary Margaret was taking video post game and she showed me the other day while I was still in the office and, uh…”

“Scarlet could be heard calling mini-Jones Dr. J,” Ruby finished. “And, well, that super fan in the precinct complained about it on the internet and—“

“Wait, wait, he complained about it on the internet?” Robin interrupted.

Ruby scowled – clearly biting back several stating retorts and she couldn’t cross her arms when she was still draped over an obviously frustrated Roland. “What part of crazed fan do you not get?”

“But aren't the Nets horrible?”

“Yes. Why do you think that would stop them?”

“Where exactly do the headlines come into it, Lucas?” Killian asked, and Emma knew that tone of voice. Overprotective dad mode, activated.

“We cover the Nets.”

“We?”

“MSG Networks. And they’ve got their own show and Rook was going to be on Arthur’s coaching show and they film right before that and, uh…they were talking about it. On the show.”

“They realize Matt is three years old, right?”

“You don’t have to challenge them to a duel, Cap. I’ve taken care of it.”

Killian opened his mouth, only to close it just as quickly because he was absolutely going to challenge some TV present to some kind of duel and he clicked his tongue when Emma scooted further towards him. “Oh, shut up,” she mumbled. “And maybe move your hand to my shoulder.”

“Which one?”

“I genuinely do not care.”

Ruby made another noise, throwing her head back to the ceiling and Roland didn’t appreciate that other. “I’m not intentionally trying to choke you, Rol. Just…all the adults in this restaurant are idiots.”

“What’s the headline, Rubes?” Mary Margaret asked, a picture of calm that was as much a ruse as anything else. She held her hand out expectantly when Eric moved behind the bar, a plate of steaming onion rings in his hand. “Don’t burn your tongue,” she said, a smile on her face when she slid onto the opposite side of the booth from Emma and Killian.

“Yes, Mom,” Emma muttered. She burned her tongue anyway.

“Guys,” Ruby whined. “Seriously, I did some pretty goddamn fantastic things today and before Scarlet starts coming up with more absurd nicknames for mini-Jones two-point-oh—"

“—Stop insulting my nicknames, Lucas,” Will said. “They’re way better than yours and that kid’s going to get a William in his middle name, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s going to be a girl,” Killian promised, no hint of anything except certainty in his voice and they hadn’t found out this time. They were over competitive weirdos, the both of them.

“Guys,” Ruby shouted. She stamped her foot. “I have headlines!”

Emma waved her hands through the air, nearly smacking Killian in the back of the head in the process. “Sorry, sorry, Rubes. What’s your headline?”

“Julius Erving’s daughter.”

“Excuse me?”

“Julius Erving. Better known as Dr. J, was a very good basketball player who played for the Nets when they weren’t as horrible as they are now, Scarlet thinks he’s hysterical, you guys named your kid the way you did and Nets fans, apparently, didn’t appreciate a hockey star stealing the nickname. There were those internet headlines, the TV show, and I decided to screw them all and went straight to the source.”

“Well, some of the source,” David amended.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, Julius Erving was unavailable. So we went to his people and—“ She brandished a Post in front of her, expression triumphant and it wasn’t a big story. It didn’t deserve to be a story, but, Emma, supposed, it was kind of nice in the same way the pillow stash was kind of nice, a defense and a family and absurd nicknames and traditions.

The headline was, admittedly, pretty catchy.

Dr. J’s Daughter Promises Blueshirts Nickname A-OK

There were more words, promises that it was honoring my father’s legacy and actually kind of funny and Will was probably going to frame it. Emma was out of onion rings.

And Matt never fell off the bar, but he did move towards Will demanding down, down, down, moving as fast as his legs could carry him until Killian scooped him up and it took, exactly, eight minutes for him to promptly fall asleep.

“So, I’ve saved all of us from being shamed by the Nets,” Ruby said, hours later and more food and a distinct lack of alcohol. It’s the start of the season, Swan. And an incredibly pregnant Emma. “And ensured we can have more ridiculous nicknames. You’re welcome.”

Will saluted. Ruby threw a fry at him.

“I’m telling you, Lucas, something, something, William Jones. It’s happening.”

Killian shook his head. “I wouldn’t hold my breath, Scarlet.”

“You know more than you’re giving up, Cap?”

“Nah, just a feeling.”

“He’s positive,” Emma added, and she couldn’t stop the smile from settling on her face. Will didn’t look convinced.

It didn’t matter, a few months and several weeks of barely-agreed-to bed rest later, and Emma wasn’t sure Killian had stopped smiling once. He kept bobbing on his toes, a distinct glint in his eyes that made it difficult to fall asleep when all Emma wanted to do was fall asleep, but he looked torn between overjoyed and a little overwhelmed and—

“We heard there was a kid in here,” Will said, leaning around the open hospital door with his own smile and Matt hanging off his side. There was a small crowd behind him. “You want to confirm those rumors about a future star defender, Cap?”

Killian shook his head, the bundle he refused to put down making a frustrated noise at the sudden influx of sound. “Margaret Elsa,” he announced, and Emma’s eyes darted up quick enough to see Mary Margaret’s hand fly to her mouth and her shoulders sag a bit and she probably shouldn’t have been able to hear the slight whimper that fell out of her, but it felt like the kind of day for auditory miracles.

“Ah,” Will sighed, not able to shrug when Matt was trying to stand on his shoulders. “She’ll probably dominate the league anyway. We allowed to come in?”

“If you promise to be quiet.”

“Deal.”

Mary Margaret was dangerously close to sobbing, Ruby’s eyeliner a lost cause and both Robin and Regina had their phones out already, one of them undoubtedly FaceTime’ing Colorado. And there weren’t any more headlines, no mention of absurd nicknames or overprotective family members with the cellphone numbers of every member of the New York media.

Matt reached out slowly as soon as he and Will moved in front of Killian, tiny fingers shaking a bit. Will wrapped his hand around his wrist, directing him and holding him back slightly, quiet mumblings of soft, Dr. J, like we talked about and Emma was glad she hadn’t fallen asleep.

“You ok?” she asked, glancing at Mary Margaret perched on the side of the hospital bed.

She nodded. “Better. I…thank you.”

“We think we might call her Peggy.”

“I love it.”

“Here here,” Will muttered, voice shaking a bit and Matt was mumbling introductions to his recently-acquired sister. “Good nickname. You’re just dominating today, aren’t you, Em?”

“Something like that. Did I steal your nickname-creating thunder?”

Will chuckled lightly, hitching Matt further up his side when he started to slide towards the ground. “Nah, I think you get a pass today. Don’t you think, Cap?”

“Decidedly,” Killian answered. He didn’t let go of Peggy when he moved towards Emma, pressing a kiss to her still-slightly sweaty temple.

“Exactly. I’ll wait for the next Jones kid anyway. Surprise you all with my nickname tendencies and middle name honors then.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Scarlet.”

Emma fell asleep eventually, the room cleared out and Matt staying with Will and Belle again and she probably wasn’t supposed to let Killian on the bed with her, but they both hated putting Peggy down and neither one of them could stop smiling. There weren’t any headlines.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “STAY”

The Joker died a few days after turning 38; it was a gruesome end due to an unexpected ambush plotted by several gangs that didn’t want him around anymore. But he is not completely gone: once a year you can bring him back for just 24 hours. And soon this won’t be possible either because the unexpected illness is going to claim your life. There will be nobody left to bring him back, unless…

You hesitated showing him what you can do: you were afraid The Joker will freak out and chase you away. But he didn’t; J thought it was amazing. If anything, it made The King of Gotham even more interested in you.

“How did you do that, Princess?!” his eyes got big each time you brought small beings back to life: your puppy, his favorite goldfish, Frost’s cat or that cute parrot Panda had.

“I’m not sure,” you lifted your shoulders up. “I wish it and it happens.”

“That’s awesome!” J watched in awe, entirely submersed in his girlfriend’s special gift.”Can you bring back people?!” he would always ask, even if your answer didn’t change:

“I never tried because there is no person I want to bring back.”

************

But after The Joker was assassinated, you finally had somebody your heart desired to bring back. You were so miserable and depressed on your 31st birthday: the first one he wasn’t there for in the three years you’ve been together.

You only bought a cupcake with a small candle you blew out while crying, alone and desperate:

“I wish for J to come back,” you whispered to yourself, not knowing if it will work or not.

You opened your eyes in the morning and gasped: he was in bed on his side, asleep. Not completely there - mostly like a projection of his body. You could see through him and when you tried to touch his face your fingers touched nothing but air. The Joker didn’t seem aware of your presence, didn’t opened his eyes at all. His unearthly, temporary existence kept you glued in bed the whole day; you called his name repeatedly but he didn’t hear you. Maybe there was nothing there and you were hallucinating… Who knew?…

Yet…you could feel him beside you, he even smelled like his cologne. You started crying the next morning when J suddenly vanished, leaving nothing behind but a heartbroken Y/N that couldn’t understand why he wasn’t there for longer. You were able to summon him back for exactly 24 hours.

Afterwards you wished for him to come back on a daily basis without success. Why wasn’t it working?… Did you lose your ability?… Maybe it worked different on humans?…Did it take a lot of energy to bring back a person? Did you ran out and had to recharge?…Nobody to answer the questions since it was a mystery to even the owner of such a tremendous and scary power.

On your next birthday, you wished for him to be alive and this time it worked, exactly a year after his first arrival. Not a day sooner.

You woke up next morning and stopped breathing for a few seconds: The Joker was there again, resting, peacefully holding on to your waist. You caressed his green hair and he opened his eyes, tired.

J frowned when you started bawling, afraid to move.

“Why am I here?”

You didn’t answer but mustered the courage to yank him in your arms and hugged him really, really tight, not believing you could actually touch him.

“Did you bring me back?”

All you could do was kiss his cheek and hold him again, shaking, not being able to control your sobbing.

“Did you miss me?” he sadly smiled and that made you so upset.

“Yes…y-yes…I miss you every second, ” you sniffled and clung to him, frightened he will disappear without any warning.

The Joker felt exhausted; almost like after a very long journey that made him weak and incapable to respond to the real world anymore; he was dead, after all. His only connection to reality was the woman that loved him and her strong desire to have him close.

“I’m so worn out, Y/N…” he yawned, struggling to stay awake.

“Can you talk to me, please?” you begged and he nodded a yes, but his eyes closed and you couldn’t wake him up afterwards.

You guarded his restless dreams and tried not to blink too often, this way you could see him as much as possible. Thank God there wasn’t a soul around to hear your screams when he faded into nothingness after the 24 hours ended. It hurt so badly seeing him go away, unaware you were still there, wanting to hear his voice more than anything.

As the years went by, The Joker became more and more alert every time he was brought back. You would drive him around, showing him the city and places he liked. J never ate or drank and didn’t seem to age; he stayed 38 while you grew older.

Once, you asked him where he goes when he’s not with you. His eyes got so dark and there was so much pain in them it made your heart sink.

“I got exactly what I deserve, don’t worry,” he mumbled and forced himself to smile but you knew something was wrong. “Let’s just say I’m the happiest when I can be with my girl.”

You didn’t fight anymore; there wasn’t time for too much since he was alive only one day each year. You enjoyed his company and The Joker seemed to fully savor yours too.

When you turned 37 and he opened his eyes the next day, you were finally glowing for once; you didn’t look sad and he was surprised.

“Hi baby, ” you pecked his lips in a hurry, then jumped out of bed and helped him up. “Come on, I want you to meet somebody,” you dragged him in the bedroom next to yours, excited to show him the little miracle he had no idea about.

The 3 months old Emma was sleeping in the crib, unaware of her father’s presence.

“This is your daughter,” you got teary and carefully took her in your arms, then placed her in his. The Joker stood there, astonished, staring at his child. “I find out I was pregnant after your last year’s visit,” you explained, nervously biting on your lips. “Can you believe this happened?!”

J was able to utter just a few words:

“She’s so cute…”

He spent the whole day he was allowed to live with his baby and the new mother. And didn’t share the fact that he wished more than ever to stay with the two of them.

But you knew; it showed all over his face.  How you regretted and cursed your strange powers that couldn’t keep him there more than a few hours…

**************

You had so many pictures around with J and always talked about him, this way Emma was familiar with her dad. Your daughter only saw him once a year, but she recognized J when he showed up at the penthouse. Shy at first, the little girl always warmed up to him after a few minutes, disappointed when her parent would vanish without a trace the next day. You tried to explain what’s going on, but she was too young to comprehend such complicated matters.

**************

When you turned 47 and The Joker opened his eyes after your birthday, the first thing he noticed was your bald head. You looked ill: dark circles under your eyes, skinny and pale.

“What’s wrong, Pumpkin?” he got on his elbow, worried and dizzy after waking up in the world of the living again. You just quietly pulled him towards you, wanting to talk to him before his 10 year old daughter would barge in to see her dad.

“I’m very sick…” and you paused, finding it hard to even open your mouth. “ I have brain cancer,” you gave him the news and he felt a huge weight on his chest. “It was discovered 10 months ago and…and…” and your voice got shaky,” I am not going to be here next year for my birthday to bring you back.”

The Joker never saw you cry like you did that day and for the first time ever he felt such a terrible ache washing over him; it made him wonder if he was still on the other side.

“Jesus, Princess,” he kissed you and you cuddled in his embrace, numb to anything else but his touch. “What about Emma?”

“I made arrangements,” you informed him after calming down a bit, “but I’m so concerned about her future. I think she inherited my ability,” you chuckled through tears, anxious at the revelation.

“Really?!” J whispered, not sure if he liked that or not, aware of what a burden it can be.

“U-hum, I witnessed her bring a butterfly back to life. Beautiful …and terrifying…” you almost choked and he understood the meaning of your statement.

“What are we going to do?” the question followed and there was no good answer to alleviate the insecurity.

“There is nothing we can do since we will both be gone…” and your sorrow was interrupted by Emma opening the door, thrilled to see The Joker is in her mom’s bedroom:

“Daddy ! You’re here!”

**************

“Hurry up, Y/N!” J keeps on encouraging you to move faster through the white mist.”Faster!” he leads you towards the place he knows about, hoping you will make it in time.

You have no clue what’s going on; you are so groggy and confused after finding yourself in this weird place with The Joker by your side, apparently taking you somewhere. Did you die in your sleep? Can’t even remember, everything is scrambled in your head.

“Where are we going?” you rub your eyes with your free hand, attempting to snap out of the trance.

“Sssttt, be quiet or they’ll hear you,” he signals and you distinguish faint cries, then howling and screams in the fog surrounding the bizarre realm. “There it is, come on!!!” J almost runs and you stumble behind him, blindly following his command.

You find yourself in front of two enormous gates, barely opened for one person to sneak in.

“Go!” J gives you a nudge towards the gap, letting go of your hand.

“Where are we going?” you yawn, puzzled and drained, squeezing on the other side of the portal, stopping to wait for him.

But he backs out when the enormous Dark Shadow that appeared out of nowhere slams the entrance shut, hissing at The Joker:

“Be gone! You know you can’t pass through The Gates of Afterlife!”

“Hey, let him in!” you immediately rush to open the gates, awoken by anxiety; they don’t even budge. The Guardian towers over his kingdom, gently pushing you away.

“You belong in here, he doesn’t. Move !”

You surely don’t understand what’s going on but you know one thing:

“Then let me out, I want to go back there!”

“Once you are inside, you can never go out. And the lost souls doomed to never find peace can’t come in.”

“I want to go to him, you can’t keep us apart ! Do you know how long we’ve been separated?! It’s not fair, let me out !” you plead, startled at the concept of being isolated from one another for eternity.

“You can never go out and he can never come in !” the menacing sentence echoes all around you before the creature fades away, done with his task of protecting the passage until the next arrivals.

“I don’t want to be in here!!!!!!!!!” you scream as loud as you can, the sounds bouncing in the stillness without anybody around to hear them. You walk along the gates, peaking outside through the heavy, tall bars making up the fence that continues to border the land through infinity. There is no end to it, no way to escape. You feel like a caged beast, trapped without any means to break free.

You see The Joker out there in that milky, dense mist and stop, squeezing the cold bars with your fingers.

“J !!! J!!!!” you shout and he cautiously approaches, taking the hand you extended through the bars. “What’s happening?” you wince when he kisses your knuckles, aware it’s forbidden and he will probably pay for it.

“You don’t deserve to be out here with the rest of us, Princess. You belong inside,” J keeps your fingers on his face, enjoying the connection.

“I don’t want to be inside without you, why did you trick me?!” you scold him, starting to cry.

“I’m The Trickster, remember? That’s what I do,” he tries to joke and can’t even smile at his own remark. “I have to go, but I will stay close, alright?”

“No, no! Where are you going?!” you try to hold on to him and he walks backwards, growling:

“I’m sorry I was mean to you so many times when we were alive…”

You push yourself against the fence, wanting to grab him but he is too far already.

“I forgive you!! Do you hear me?? I forgive you, come back!!!!!!! Please come back!!” you implore, frozen when he is swallowed by the fog outside. “Don’t leave…” you rest your head against the bars, sobbing. “Don’t leave…I forgive you…Stay with me…”

****************

“Why doesn’t he move?” The Guardian asks, intrigued. You keep on glaring outside, The Joker’s shape petrified in the same position for a long time. You can’t tell for how many days, weeks or months since there is no way to tell; time has no meaning here.

“It hurts more if you don’t move,” the Dark Shadow continues and you satisfy its curiosity:

“He wants to see me, that’s why he’s not moving. He wants to look at me…” you wipe your eyes, not letting The Joker out of your sight either.

“Why don’t you go and enjoy you afterlife? You’ve been here for a while.”

“I just want to look at him, I don’t care about anything else,” you sigh, discretely waving at J and he waves back.

“I’ll never understand humans,” The Guardian huffs. “There is nothing outside but demons, regrets and torment. If you don’t move, you’re easy pray for them to torture.”

“He’s used to that,” you turn your attention towards the creature. “He was a tortured soul way before he died, pain won’t bother him now. The demons in his mind accustomed him to agony when he was alive; he simply doesn’t care anymore.”

“Mmmm…” is the only reaction you get and The Guardian decides to leave you alone since it can’t convince you to abandon your useless mission.

The sudden, intense light illuminating the darkness and the mist beyond the gates makes you squint your eyes, uncomfortable.

“What is this?” you shield your face from the burning glow and the outworldy companion snarls, annoyed.

“That’s a very strong one, stronger than yours!”

“What?” you yell over the ominous ruckus that’s growing with each second, thunder and lightning increasing intensity until you can barely see and hear.

“It’s your daughter!” The Dark Shadow’s threatening demeanor scares you for once. “She wished for you and him to be alive again, she’s finally strong enough to do it ! And she’s already more powerful than you were! This can’t happen, I won’t let you leave!”

You brace for the worst, clearly no match for the Guardian when it all goes silent, just a strong wind swiping the hallowed ground. You and J are gone and The Underworld’s custodian shrieks, wanting vengeance for this transgression:

“I hate humans!”

******************

You stretch a bit and open your eyes, your head resting on The Joker’s shoulder. He is still dreaming and you kiss his skin, slowly moving your eyes around, recognizing your bed inside the master bedroom at the penthouse. Your gaze stops upon the recliner where a teenager Emma sleeps, barely turned 16 last night. You see a small birthday cake on the coffee table next to her, one candle adorning the sweet treat.

Your daughter wished for her parents to come back on her birthday again and it finally happened; so many failed attempts over the years and she almost lost faith.

J groans in his sleep and you are quick to caress his arm, whispering under your breath:

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[oumakokichi]

I just realised that Ouma probably died while thinking that Saihara would be happier seeing Momota alive instead of him. And I just. I'm sorry okay.

I’ve often thought about the fact that pretty much everycharacter in Chapter 5 is much more appalled at the idea of Momota being theone under the press than Ouma. It’s something that’s sort of vaguely touched on—“Ouma”in the Exisal, likely according to script, does have a few tongue-in-cheekremarks about the fact that everyone would probably much rather him be deadthan Momota.

But it’s still something that’s not ever really fullytouched on. Even at the very end in the post-trial, when everyone finally knowsthe whole truth of the catbox and sees Momota alive and well with their own twoeyes, there’s sort of a distinct absence of grief over the general loss ofhuman life.

Of course, I understand very well that Chapter 5 wanted toparallel Ouma and Momota’s last moments, with Ouma choosing to die willinglyinside the catbox and remaining an enigma while Momota went out beloved byeveryone in a blaze of glory. I understand as well the fact that manycharacters had conflicting (to say the least) feelings about Ouma as a person.Up until the end, from their perspective, he was hostile, antagonistic, he tookcredit in front of all of them for awful, horrible things, and scared them allhalf to death.

Still, one of the most consistent points of Ouma’scharacter, the thing that’s most central to his moral code, is his distaste forkilling, period. Loss of life, any life, is something that Ouma himself veryclearly detested. Despite his act and all his facades, the loss of each andevery one of his classmate’s lives was something that very obviously hit himhard, as all the evidence from his motive video to his whiteboard proves lateron in Chapter 6.

Again and again, Ouma warns the group that they aren’t takingthe very real possibility of death seriously. He outs Maki as the SHSL Assassinprecisely because her talent is way too dangerous to run the risk of herkeeping that secret and doing as she pleases behind the scenes. He tries sohard to bring the killing game to an end himself because, from his perspective,everyone else seems to be doing nothing but trying to continue it. And when Makiultimately barges in and poisons him in Chapter 5, he’s appalled, asking herpoint-blank, “do you really enjoy killing thatmuch?”

Even if Ouma had been half the villain that they allbelieved him to be (and he definitely wasn’t), the almost noticeablenon-reaction to his death would still be a little bit… well, off-putting, in myopinion. Even Junko’s decision to execute herself warranted more of a reactionof shock and horror from the dr1 survivors. It’s just very hard not to feellike Ouma did make a few valid points about how little the loss of human lifegets taken seriously by the rest of the group, especially as long as it’ssomeone they don’t like.

By contrast, all the characters’ reactions to Ouma’s deathin Chapter 5, even when they know for sure that it’s Ouma who died, feel alittle more like non-reactions. Like, “oh, well I guess that certainlyhappened.” The idea of dying painfully and slowly from literal torture poisonand a hydraulic press simultaneously is enough to make them feel sick to theirstomachs when it’s Momota who they’re picturing dying, but suddenly seemsrelatively unimportant as soon as they know that it was actually Ouma.

A large part of this is actually lampshaded in the trialwhen Momota within the Exisal actually asks Saihara to back him up and prove tothe rest of the group relatively early on that Momota is alive and Ouma isdead, and Saihara literally can’t. He considers all the possibilities andevidence that they have currently, and he starts freaking out, saying he can’t. He wants Momota to be alive, Momota seems like the obviously “better”choice to be alive, and yet he just doesn’t see how it could be possible, goinginto such a state of denial that it shocks even Momota and forces him to goback to playing “Ouma” within the Exisal until everyone can piece the rest ofthe clues together.

Again, I do understand thematically why it was done. Oumawent out in the method of his choosing, and keeping his mindset and motives amystery to the end was part of what he wanted, too. It’s very telling that inChapter 5, blaming Ouma himself is always an option, in a very Umineko-like “blamethe witch” sort of way. Even at the very end, even after his death, Ouma givesthem the option to continue blaming him, to choose the “gentle lie” that he wasevil and horrible and a villain if that’s more comforting to them than theharsh, unchanging truth—the fact that the ringleader is someone they know andtrust within their group.

But it really is sad that most of the group genuinely justdoesn’t react to his death much. It’s not so much about the fact that they werehappier to see Momota alive. Obviously, Momota was their friend, an inspirationand a role model to many of them. It’s more about the fact that very few ofthem are actually saddened by Ouma’s death at all, or even horrified at thegrotesqueness of it.

Maki’s attempt to kill him with literal slow, painful,torture poison, and her willingness to throw absolutely everyone’s lives on theline at the school trial and get them allkilled, warrants little more than a slap on the wrist—no one in the groupactually gets mad at her or stays mad at her for this, or even brings it up atall after the trial is over.

And I can understand making some allowances for thinkingthat Ouma was the ringleader and the leader of the Remnants of Despair, butMaki did promise in front of the whole group not to try and kill Ouma, the sameway that Naegi and the dr1 survivors didn’t actually want to kill Junko, but to talk to her. And still, her recklessnessand attempt to murder not only Ouma but the entire group at the school trialhas no lasting consequences. None of the other characters mention it, everyoneacts as if being in love is a perfectly reasonable motive for murder, no oneeven seems particularly scared or afraid of being friends with her after thetrial is over with.

Asahina, who attempted pretty much the same thing because ofSakura’s death in dr1 Chapter 4, was still so appalled by her own actions whenshe realized how close she had come to killing everyone over a lie and amisunderstanding that she almost threw up. She apologized to the group atlarge, the whole group acknowledged her mistake, talked about it, and discussedthat Monokuma was the one who was really at fault, and it felt like the issuewas really being handled properly, rather than brushed under the rug entirely.

I wish that had been more of how things had gone in ndrv3Chapter 5, because it really does feel like none of the group take Maki’stalent as a SHSL Assassin or her disregard for human life seriously as apotential threat even when the entire point of her character is how recklessand dangerous she is.

Basically, Ouma is hardly a poor precious cinnamon roll: he’sa complex character who demonstrates morally gray behavior frequently, and whohas huge, glaring flaws even if he’s well-intentioned. But it is definitely hardto not feel kind of bad for him knowing that there was some truth to hisfrequent accusations that the rest of the group didn’t really care about humanlives as much as they claimed to.

His bewilderment at their willingness to make excuses formurder is rather understandable on some level when he gets choked on severaloccasions in front of all of them and the only reason anyone stops him fromdying is less because anyone thinks his life personally has meaning and morebecause they don’t want Maki to dirty her hands again.

The point with Ouma was certainly that, by isolating himselfso much from the entire group, he inevitably made himself into someone who wasimpossible for others to understand. And while part of this was his own desire,because of his paranoia and inability to trust, it also became a self-fulfillingprophecy of sorts, where he couldn’t trust them because they couldn’t trusthim, either. All of those things make thematic sense, but still… the fact thatmost of the group failed to revise their opinion of him even after his death (avery gruesome, horrible death which he went to willingly for the sake ofpreventing anyone else in the group from dying when he didn’t have to) willalways probably make me sad.

Anyway, I got a bit long with this ask without meaning to.It was an interesting point you brought up, anon (and a sad one), so I justwanted to share my thoughts in return. Thank you for stopping by!

[theconservativebrief]

Every week, critic at large Todd VanDerWerff and internet culture reporter Aja Romano get together to discuss the latest episode of HBO’s sci-fi drama Westworld. This week, they’re discussing the second season’s eighth episode, “Kiksuya.” Spoilers follow! Proceed with caution if you haven’t seen the episode!

Todd VanDerWerff: “Kiksuya” could have — and probably should have — gone so, so wrong.

For as much as I admire Westworld’s attempts to depict a kind of uber-struggle for respect, autonomy, and self-definition that represents every oppressed person in the history of humanity, by using the hosts to stand in for all of them (and often explicitly coding them as such), there have been plenty of times when the show has tossed these balls in the air and then had no idea what to do with them, just barely catching them on the way down instead of starting to nimbly juggle.

When you mix that with the idea of an episode about the Native American “Ghost Nation” hosts, performed almost entirely in Lakota, there are so many places where the whole enterprise could absolutely shatter into tiny pieces . That’s before I even start in on some of the episode’s creative decisions, like the fact that it’s basically an episode-long flashback ostensibly delivered as an expository monologue to a young child (who is actually an ancient host, but you know what I mean).

Yet when you consider that Westworld’s primary storytelling mode is, “Here is what’s happening and why,” it’s not surprising that an episode that is mostly exposition works as well as this one does. I wouldn’t call “Kiksuya” perfect, but it does fill in some gaps in the Westworld timeline, occasionally too conveniently — see also that encounter with Logan out in the wilds of Westworld. It also offers a couple of terrific scenes, including a nighttime meeting between Akecheta (Zahn McClarnon) and Ford (Anthony Hopkins) that takes place amid a gruesome tableau of Ghost Nation hosts frozen in place and has more of the horror and eeriness of the “creation meeting the creator” feeling the show strives for than almost any other scene of its ilk. I even liked the sense that Ghost Nation had adapted the circumstances of what happen to hosts after they die into its mythology.

All told, it’s a little languid and could have lost 10 minutes without too much trouble. (There are a lot of gigantic landscape shots, which eventually grew repetitive.) But “Kiksuya” has the visceral emotion that the series often lacks, and McClarnon is a terrific leading man. This is probably my favorite episode of the season so far, which I would not have expected going in. What did you think?

Lots and lots of wide shots… HBO

Aja Romano: I definitely agree. McClarnon is a superb actor and this episode could have fallen flat in multiple moments, but I felt like it was all held together by his dawning realizations and the tremor of understanding in his eyes.

The moment in the scene where he meets Ford, when Ford orders him to analyze and he realizes that he can’t fight his own programming, is as close to pure horror as Westworld has ever gotten for me, and the writers (Carly Wray and Dan Dietz) get there mainly by reliance on character and emotion. That’s a strong choice, and shows just how much they had to work with in McClarnon, because the narrative of this episode otherwise gives us more of Westworld’s tendency to really drag out explanations and plot reveals. But ultimately, even when I noticed the lagging pace and the redundancy of the exposition, I just didn’t care because I was enjoying the characterization and the emotional impact of the story so much.

I think where this story loses a little bit of momentum is in how it ultimately connects with its two contemporary tentpoles — Emily’s love/hate relationship with her father, and whatever the hell is going on with Maeve. Akecheta’s encounter with Emily felt anticlimactic and cryptic, and it didn’t tell me anything new about either character. (She’s definitely a hybrid, though!)

I feel like the reveal that he was attempting all along to protect Maeve’s daughter, not steal her, is too easy, sidestepping some of the the complicated implications of how season one habitually framed his actions as threatening. And it implies that Maeve may have somehow had racial biases programmed into her reactions to him, which is a huge thing to hint at but gloss over.

Of course, his framing of the narrative could well be false, especially given what we see of Maeve at the end of the episode. I’m not entirely sure what to make of their exchange, mainly because I’m not sure what he gained from it. She gained a new ally, and he gained the chance to explain himself. But it didn’t seem to move the plot forward at all. What did I miss?

Take my heart with you when you go. HBO

Todd: I guess the implication here is that Maeve and Akecheta now form an axis of power devoted to escaping the park before “the deathbringer” (Dolores) destroys everybody. As story development goes, this isn’t bad, but it relies too heavily on us thinking Maeve might really perish, a victim of Delos’s disinterest in preserving anything but her rogue code, and I just don’t think for a second Westworld is going to unceremoniously kill off its second lead.

One of the things that frustrates me about “Kiksuya” is the way in which much of it seems to exist solely to prove to skeptics that much of the story was planned out from the beginning. That made for some gorgeous imagery — Maeve confronting the maze in the dust chief among those images — but the way that Westworld can feel a little schematic, like assembling a piece of furniture where it’s not quite clear how everything fits together until the end, is heavily tied to this sort of planning. I haven’t quite been able to escape the idea that the show thinks its core audience is everybody who reads the Westworld subreddit. And, honestly, maybe it is.

Still, I have to agree that the episode came as close to being a horror tale as Westworld ever has, rivaling even some of the darker moments for Dolores in season one. Akecheta’s journey to the underworld in search of his disappeared love was weird and gorgeous and mythic, one of the few times this season that the mash-up of very old stories and very new technology has hit its true potential to reveal the messy underside of both aspects of the show. When he came across her frozen, empty body, standing amid so many other decommissioned hosts, boy, McClarnon makes every single second of that revelation play. It’s horror and myth and tragedy all at once, hitting the sorts of heights I wish the show was able to attain more often.

There’s been a lot of speculation that Ghost Nation would tie a lot of this season’s mysteries together once its backstory was revealed, and I guess “Kiksuya” sort of does this. Now that we know the maze is something Akecheta and those he “woke up” are deliberately spreading and that he’s come to think of his “tribe” as encompassing all awakened hosts around the park, certain aspects of the series make more sense. And I love that he’s the one who first came up with the idea of a “door,” when he saw a massive construction project and realized he lived in the wrong world. I just wish the maze felt to me like something more than a cool image, that it felt like an actual symbol for something deeper than a riddle.

But that’s all quibbles. The idea that the world is wrong has always been a potent one on this show, and season two has drifted from it just a tiny bit. I’m glad it had such centrality here, and even if I’m not sure why Maeve and Akecheta are teaming up, I’m glad they are. Somebody has to stop the Deathbringer. We’ve only got two episodes left, Aja, so where do you think all of this is headed? And is there any way to redeem my onetime favorite Dolores?

Aja: I think if we keep thinking about the mythology of Westworld, we end up where we started, enmeshed in cyclical pathways, probably with a giant inferno in the bargain, given how much fiery foreshadowing we’ve been treated to this season. Given where we seem to be headed — a giant cast reunion in the Valley Beyond — my speculation is that the question of Dolores’ redemption might be answered through the maze itself.

At this point, the only thing that could really redirect her course is to be faced with a direct threat that requires her to join forces, with the other hosts or the humans or both. And we know that at the center of every proper Grecian labyrinth is a proper Grecian minotaur. It seems to me that the best method to bar the way out of Westworld, introduce an escalated conflict for season three, and give Dolores a chance to redeem herself, is to unveil the bull at the center of the maze in the final act — whether it’s Ford 2.0 or something new.

Of course, this could also be a feeble attempt on my part to play Westworld’s game of catering to its subreddit. I hope not, because the lovely thing about an episode like this one is that its emphasis on character development reminds us that the emotional and socially conscious core of Westworld is much more rewarding than the endless gamification of its story about gamification.

Season two has been steadily leading us toward an intersectional awareness of systems of oppression, in which we see characters like Akecheta — and Lee, whose abrupt tearful apology to Maeve I didn’t wholly buy, but which seemed in keeping with the episode’s theme — becoming aware that their problems aren’t solely their own.

That intersectionality is almost certainly going to end up manifesting physically in the final episode. Whether Dolores gets on board or not, it seems fitting if, ultimately, we learn that the only way out for the characters we’ve met along the way is to wage an even bigger power struggle against a monster yet unseen.

Original Source -> “Kiksuya” is Westworld season 2’s best episode so far

via The Conservative Brief