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#a threat that can't be beaten either

hungrydogs-if · 1 year

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editing the 'incident' portion of the game rn and wanted to share a treat.

have at thee, the last the mc ever saw of the ro's before they got got. (am making jokes because this chapter is sad)

so, what did the mc witness before losing all their friends?

well, they saw;

dane swinging a chair at an armed swat officer before tackling them to the ground.

mona throwing threats and thrashing against five officers holding her down.

sam having a panic attack while staring down the barrel of a rifle pointed at their face.

thirteen seemingly unfazed or even bored, kneeling on the ground with their hands on their head. (well, helmet.)

and then there was angel who arrested the mc once they got taken down during pursuit. nothing says budding friendship like being read your miranda rights.

#ramblings.#it's sad but so much fun #the chaos of it all #how each of them respond to an imminent threat #a threat that can't be beaten either #mmmm the complexity makes my little gremlin brain happy

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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DCxDP Fanfic idea: Wrong Number

Bruce prides himself in keeping all of his networks secured. If he didn't make it himself, he had the funds and connections to get him the best working on his systems.

He had backup plans in case the systems were ever hacked, of course, but he had yet to encounter a cyber attack that wasn't beaten away by his firewalls or his team.

Babs and Tim were far more feral when booting out unwanted guests. The level of protection was also transferred to his other systems that weren't Batman-related, just to make sure the connection between Bruce and Batman was never made.

That's why he never really checks his personal phone's caller ID, not the one he gave out as Brucie Wayne, but the one Bruce used for his real life without any masks- civilian or vigilante. The only ones who had the number- and the access- were his children and Alfred.

Not even the Justice League- those who were aware of his identity- knew of this number.

Bruce is in the middle of typing up a report for the next Wayne Board meeting when his personal phone rings. He figures it's Dick giving him a call to update him on his drive home or maybe Jason, as his son was planning on going to college.

"Go for Papa Bruce," He says, knowing his kids hate his phone greeting and doing it deliberately to spite them.

There is a long pause where he can't help but smirk thinking his child is either rolling their eyes or cringing too hard to properly speak. Eventually, a voice cracks over the speaker.

"Hello. I'm selling cookies to raise money for my own star. Would like to buy a box from me?" says a boy, not one he has taken in. The voice is young maybe not even double digits yet. Bruce is alarmed.

"Who are you?! How did you get this number?" He demands, yanking his phone to his face and seeing, with a chill, a phone number out of state.

His system had been compromised. By a child. By accident.

"My name is Danny!" The boy chirps. "I sell cookies. Like the Girl Scouts, but I'm a boy, and I don't scout."

"That's rather fantastic, lad. What kind of cookies are you selling?" Bruce asks to keep the boy on the line while sending an email blast to the others. It's a string of numbers that are code for compromise so they all know to close any communication channel until it's safe to get back on.

"Chocolate chip. Mint Slim. Oatmeal and peanut butter. I made them myself!"

Right. Bruce hooks up his phone, tracing the call. The signal bounces off the call, swinging up to a salute and falling back down to earth. In seconds he has the boy's location. It pings in a small town right outside of Star City.

He sends Barry a private message. His friend is already on the way to the location. He'll get the boy in a few seconds.

"How much for a box of chocolate chips? Those are my favorite." Bruce tells the boy, voice whimsical as his Brucie persona demands.

In an unsure tone, the boy pauses, then whispers, "I don't know. No one ever let me get this far."

"How about twenty for a box of dozen? I'll buy five boxes for each of my kids that live at him," Bruce tells him, and the boy gasps.

"That could buy me one whole night in a hotel!"

Bruce's insides freeze. What did he mean-

"Hey! No! Let go!" Danny suddenly screams. Bruce's heart launches- he hates it when kids get hurt, especially those that sound like Danny- until Barry's voice comes over the speaker.

"I got him, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for alerting the Justice League Hotline." That's code for This is not a threat to you Batman and Bruce allows himself to relax just a little.

"Narc!" The boy shouts, outraged, before the call drops. Barry is likely taking over the situation, which means Bruce can leave it in his capable hands.

After reassuring his kids that he is fine and that they are all safe, he suits up and meets the Flash in the Watch Tower. There, he learns that Danny is only seven years old and has been living on the streets for a while.

The boy had been surviving by baking some cookies to sell on the side of the street- where did he bake them? The boy would not say- until he got the bright idea to try to sell through phone calls like he had seen on TV.

He punched in random numbers at the community center phone and gave his pitch about a star, thinking people would be more willing to buy from him if he had an excellent reason.

Barry had left him with CPS, but he looked devastated about that. It turned out that Danny was a meta and had likely been kicked out of his home once it was found out based on what he said of his parents.

Bruce felt he should assure Barry that Danny was fine and look into his placement to help settle his more sensitive teammate's nerves.

He was unhappy that Danny was not in a good placement; there were far too many reports from a concerned neighbor to make him think it was a safe place. Given the fact that placement had a lot of meta kids that "fell through the cracks," Bruce worried he had just stumbled across a trafficking ring.

He would sick Barry and Jason on them. Just to ensure they wouldn't see the light of day again.

Still, that did not fix his mistake with Danny, the little cookie seller.

Bruce hacked into the system to move Danny. He thought about where he would move the young child but ultimately had him in Wayne Manor.

Just until he could confirm that he would be safe. He certainly didn't think about the adorable little boy who called him with his heart in his hand and got sent to a terrible place for three weeks because of Bruce.

Danny arrived at Wayne Manor with a happy little bounce and a chipper outlook on life than Bruce was expecting. "If it isn't Mr. Narc!"

God, he going to adopt the boy, isn't he?

(Danny has been thrown into a different universe, aged down to a child. He survived by overshadowing people into letting him spend the night baking cookies.

He was thrown into a somewhat typical home, but the nosy neighbor down the street took far too much notice of his overshadowing, and now he was being moved again.

Maybe he can terrorize Mr. Narc now instead? )

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny de-age #Dimension travel #Crack #Basically He overshaowed people and everyone lost their minds about it #Barry will fight Bruce for Danny #Danny will make it his life goal to be Bruce's life hell

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yandere-daydreams · 10 months

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Sphinx!Xiao, who finds you stranded in the desert after your research group gets separated. A pack of wild coyote hybrids thought to be amicable, if not friendly towards humans attacked your camp in the middle of the night and sent you running aimlessly into the sand plains without time to gather food or water, let alone distress flares. By the time you stumble onto a wind-beaten temple, you're freezing, dehydrated, and exhausted. You barely have the strength to drag yourself up the meager steps and through the degraded doorway before you collapse on the sandstone floor, only able to hope that, by some miracle, a search party would be able to find you before you died of exposure. A search party doesn't find you, obviously, but Xiao does.

Sphinx!Xiao, who refuses to show himself for days. You only know he's there by the gifts he leaves you - cactus pears, palm dates, flasks of water and bitter wine that burns your throat as it goes down. It's not much, but it's enough to keep you alive, and you're too desperate to turn down anything he gives you. He's generous, too, giving you more than enough to get by while you're still in that state of bleary half-consciousness. You think he can tell that survival's not your area of expertise, that if you were left to your own devices, it'd only be a matter of time before you ate something poisonous or wandered into a bobcat den. That, or you're just pathetic enough to earn a few sand-covered blankets on top of the bare necessities.

Sphinx!Xiao, who lets you fawn over him with a purse-lipped scowl when you do finally manage to corner your elusive savior. You honestly just want to thank him, but once he's in front of you, you can't help grinning as you rake your fingers through the ivory feathers of his massive wings and scratch at the bases of his rounded ears. You've never so much as heard of a creature with both the wings and eyes of a bird-based hybrid and the legs, tail, and fangs of a cat-based hybrid, so you can't stop yourself from treating him like the eighth wonder of the world (unintended affection a touch-starved Xiao secretly basks in, not that you notice the pale blush painted across his skin while you're performing a remarkably thorough investigation on the color of his paw-pads).

Sphinx!Xiao, who stand-offish at best, reclusive at worst. He's clearly not used to having someone to talk to, his voice rough and his dialogue usually limited to one-word phrases or barked orders, but you can usually manage to string along your brief conversations on your own, either wondering aloud when you might be rescued or telling him about all the things you're going to do when you make it back to civilization. For every hour you spend fantasizing about baths and take-out and air conditioning, he spares a few words about himself. From what you can gather, he's a guardian of-sorts, meant to protect people like you from a threat he claims you couldn't begin to understand. You're not really in a place to question him, considering you didn't even know a hybrid like him could exist a few weeks ago.

Sphinx!Xiao, who also claims he's not allowed to 'meddle in human matters', meaning he can't help you beyond making sure you don't starve to death. You've asked him if he's seen anyone looking for you while hunting, but he's never given you a straight answer, and when you suggest that he just, say, put that twenty-foot wingspan to use and drop you off on the edge of the nearest town or village, he just scowls, rolls his eyes, refuses to say anything at all. You want to press the subject, sometimes, but you really can't afford to annoy him, to make yourself even more of an irritation to him than you already are. You wouldn't survive a day out here, on your own. You wouldn't survive without Xiao.

Sphinx!Xiao, whose gifts have been getting more... modern, recently. Luxuries are still few and far between, but you have a small store of canned food, now, a couple fleece blankets that don't seem at least a decade old, bits of scrap metal and glass that must've caught Xiao's eye. You try not to pry, not to turn down anything he gives you, but his most recent gift - a half-crushed, silver wedding band with an odd, scarlet stain you can't seem to polish away - hasn't seen the light of day since he dropped it into your hand.

Sphinx!Xiao, who keeps his wings wrapped around you as you sob into his shoulder and beat your fists against his chest. You're not in the temple anymore, dilapidated and open, but his den - a hellish, lightless cave filled to bursting with golden jewelry and century-old artifacts and scraps of metal and clothing that couldn't have come from anything but human travelers, from dozens upon dozens of people who could've saved you if he hadn't gotten in the way.

Sphinx!Xiao, who hums and coos and purrs as he rubs circles into your back, as he promises that he's not going to hurt you, that he's not going to let anything hurt you ever again.

Sphinx!Xiao, who's always been a guardian, first and foremost. It's just that now, he's decided it's his responsibility to guard you.

#hybrid au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #yandere xiao #yanderecore #yandcore

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lakesbian · 4 months

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nobody move. i've just successfully articulated the sentiment that taylor's power turns her into a panopticon because she was living in one & explained her trigger in a way i feel satisfied with for the first time in my life

the concept of the panopticon is not just about surveillance, but about creating an environment where people cannot be sure whether or not they are being surveilled, and thus must constantly act under the assumption that they are. which is exactly what happened to taylor--we see from when we first meet her in the school that she's anticipating attack from every possible direction to avoid it, and the one time she lets her guard down a fraction and assumes she's found a safe spot to hide from abuse, she's targeted with the juice spills. and this is after her trigger event, but it's clear she behaves this way because it was beaten into her over the entire course of the bullying. it's what she describes when she recounts the trigger:

“I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I made a friend, one of the girls who had sometimes joined in on the taunting came to me and apologized. ... Her approaching me and befriending me was one of the big reasons I could think the harassment was ending. I never really let my guard down around her, but she was pretty cool about it. “And for most of November and the two weeks of classes before Christmas break, nothing. They were leaving me alone. I was able to relax.” I sighed, “That ended the day I came back from the winter break. I knew, instinctually, that they were playing me, that they were waiting before they pulled their next stunt, so it had more impact. I didn’t think they’d be so patient about it. I went to my locker, and well, they’d obviously raided the bins from the girls bathrooms or something, because they’d piled used pads and tampons into my locker. Almost filled it.”

the precise moment when she stopped consciously anticipating and preparing to react to abuse--when she relaxed, when she stopped acting as if the lack of danger didn't mean that she couldn't still be hurt at any time--is when she was brutally reminded that she's never safe. she's still in the panopticon. she isn't literally being watched every second, she isn't literally in lifelong danger of having her vulnerabilities exploited, but it feels like she is. she can never ever be sure she's safe.

so she triggers, and she gets a power that turns her into a panopticon, and lets her watch everyone right back. it lets her regain control by turning her into a source of danger that could attack anywhere, from any direction, any time, fully unexpected.

& the reason her power enables her to watch Everyone--not just a single person, or a few people--but Everyone, is that the other major aspect of her trigger is the trauma of facts like this:

“It was pretty obvious that they had done it before the school closed for Christmas, by the smell alone. I bent over to throw up, right there in a crowded hallway, everyone watching. Before I could recover or stop losing my breakfast, someone grabbed me by the hair, hard enough it hurt, and shoved me into the locker.”

"All I could think was that someone had been willing to get their hands that dirty to fuck with me, but of all the students that had seen me get shoved in the locker, nobody was getting a janitor or teacher to let me out."

for months, for years, she was in a community where everyone regularly witnessed her humiliation and abuse, and everyone, dozens and dozens of kids and teachers, either contributed to it or was knowingly, silently complacent. this is what sticks with her: the idea that she is so universally reviled, so deserving of revile, that any crowd of witnesses would, without hesitation, consign her to the filth of the locker.

what else is she supposed to conclude, but that everyone she interacts with is a threat? that she can't drop her guard ever again, because no one will be coming to help her if she does? of course she has to become the panopticon. of course she has to watch everyone, all of the time, if she wants to stop it from happening again. of course she has to live among the teeming lowly and crawling things she has been taught via one firm shove that she is worth less than, and of course she has to use them to watch everyone back. and it would be inaccurate to say that doing this--monitoring everything with her bugs--makes her feel safe. all it does is allow her to remain in a constant state of paranoia and traumatized hyper-vigilance more efficiently.

#wormblr #parahumans #ive connected the dots. ive connected them #REREAD WIN: OFFHAND LINE ABOUT TAYLOR COMPARING PEOPLE TO BUGS #MADE ME DO MENTAL PARKOUR TO POWER ANALYSIS #read my post boy

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esthermitchell-author · 8 months

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I know I'm likely to get some backlash over this... But please just hear me out, first.

I don't believe, for even a second, that Crowley needs a protector. He doesn't need Azi to fight his battles for him, or be his guardian, or anything like that. Maybe the angel he once was might have. But, as Crowley has said more than once, that angel isn't him. That angel is dead, gone, buried. He wants no part of whoever they were.

Crowley the demon can fight his own battles just fine. In fact, in becoming a demon, he has -- by odd twist -- BECOME the protector. As Azi states so clearly, nothing makes Crowley happier than getting to rescue his angel -- getting to be the hero appeals to Crowley on a very deep level. I believe it is what fuels his inner goodness, reminds him he's not JUST the outer shell the world sees, either.

What Crowley NEEDS is a HEALER. Crowley is deeply, fundamentally broken. (Please don't throw things at me. I'm not suggesting he needs fixed in any way. That's NOT what I mean by "broken.") He's been stepped on, cast out, mangled and mistreated in so many ways, by so many people, his soul is a fractured mess of PTSD, pain, and a deep-seated fear of trusting anyone, or making himself even the slightest bit vulnerable. He covers these over with a great deal of sarcasm, snark, and general feigned boredom with whatever situation is currently triggering him in horrible ways.

Crowley is like a combination of grizzled old warrior and beaten dog. He's jumping at shadows, at every possible threat or loud noise, even before S2. By S2 he's slid into a state of hyper-vigilance that's the other side of the universe from healthy (I know... I live there. I can recognize the signs at a glance).

What he needs is a healing touch. Gentleness. A loving touch that tells him it's okay to be broken, that he'll heal with time, and he's good enough just the way he is, right now. He needs someone with that softness. He needs love, and belonging, and to know that it's okay to put down the load when it gets heavy -- the world won't fall apart if he takes a moment to breathe and actually enjoy something.

I firmly believe all of that is Aziraphale. Azi's a healer to his core. I know everyone keeps going on about swords and warriors and protectors, and I'm not doubting Azi's capable of standing on his own two feet and of protecting others. But that's not what Crowley needs. He needs Azi's softness. His healing touch. His gentle words and calm voice. He needs Azi to say "You belong right here, with me, just as you are." I think we'll see that, before it's all over. Azi can't help but be soft and gentle with Crowley. He just needs to get out of his own way, and show Crowley everything he's holding back.

#good omens #good omens fandom #aziracrow #azicrow #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #ineffable spouses #crowley

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lunnybunny12 · 3 months

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Blitz x Reader (patching him up)

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN

This is mostly word vomit but hope you enjoy it.

Blitz comes back from a job pretty beaten up.

"Hey, Loona? its getting late I'm gonna head home," you said, closing your computer.

"kay. See you tomorrow " she answered while still looking at her phone.

When you and Millie moved to the pride ring, nether of you expected to be working at I.M.P. Millie got a job there pretty much right away. She would always come home to your apartment frustrated because of the lack of organisation of jobs.

One day you decided to meet her at work and walked into chaos. piles and piles of paperwork strewed everywhere. You offered to help and the boss offered you a job. Its been a few years since then.

"Thank you." you chimed.

Just as you were about to go file away the last few documents and head home, the portal to Earth opened. Moxie and Milie came through with a few scratches but Blitz took one step and then fell flat on his face.

"Holey fuck what happened?" you asked picking up Blits and dragging him to a chair.

"OW! ow ow. Some fucker got me a few times" Blitz said through his teeth.

"I'll say" Millie huffed " The guy practically had him on the ropes"

You looked at Blitz who had a look on his face that read: angry and embarrassed.

" Ah Thank you, Millie. Ever the ray of sunshine" Blitz growled at her.

"Ha ha well... Sir we're going to call it a night. It's uh getting kind of late" Moxie nervously chuckled

"Yea. You all go home. I'll lock up and see you tomorrow"

After that Blitz shuffled himself into his office and closed the door behind him. A few drops of blood followed behind him.

"How... bad was he hurt?" you asked walking to get the first aid kit from the shelf.

"Not bad enough to go to the hospital but he was definitely shaken"

"You want me to help you patch him up?"

"Nah Loona I'll be fine. Could you keep an eye on him when he gets home?"

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

The second that door closed behind him Blitz silently screamed in embarrassment.

He got his ass kicked, fell flat on his face and had Millie make him look like an absolute idiot. AND HE DIDN'T EVEN KILL THE GUY!

And to make things worse it happened all in front of you. He could've melted into that chair.

Since you were hired the two of you have flirted back and forth originally for Blitz it was entirely work place banter. Something to piss off Moxie and to keep up moral but as time went on he started to like you more and more.

Blitz was brought back to reality when he heard a knock on the door.

"Hey handsome, how you doing?" you chimed, closing the door behind you.

He felt heat rush to his face.

"I thought you went home?" he chuffed

"nope. Can't have my favourite boss die. who would sign my paycheck?" you winked.

Blitz laughed "And here I was thinking you liked me for my dazzling personality"

You smiled and gave him a quick look over. he had a few cuts on his face and arms but no sign of where the blood could be coming from. His face was pretty red too.

"Come on pretty boy, can sit on the desk?"

He sent you a pained look.

"Well...it's either you sit on the desk or I sit on your lap"

"OOO is that supposed to be a threat, sweetheart? He smiled wiggling his eyebrows making you blush.

You rolled your eyes and helped him to the desk. It was a bit of a struggle to lift him up there.

"Wow, your desk is huge!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot " He was about to stretch but then recoiled in pain making the pair of you chuckle again.

A while later he was all bandaged up and the bleeding had stopped.

"Ok. I'm gonna clean the cuts on your face and then I'm taking you home."

"You don't have to do that "

"Yea well it's gonna happen and I don't wanna hear you complain about it. Plus it gives me an excuse to hang out with you longer so that's that."

You had a cotton pad with antiseptic hovering over his face.

"This is gonna sting a little but I need you to stay still"

"OW"

Your hand went under his chin to make him look at you. For a second your eyes locked. You could see so many emotions swirling around and you felt your face heat up.

"I-Im sorry" you stammerd

"Wha - no no you... do what you need to do"

That's when the pair of you saw the position you were in. You were stood between his legs. Your faces were inches away from each other and both your hands were on his face.

You both felt as if you were on fire.

Eventually, he swallowed his pride and asked "Can I uh... try something?"

You nodded.

He nervously wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you even closer into a hug. Suddenly ...his cuts didn't hurt anymore.

"Thank you, by the way. I haven't had someone care about me in a while"

A shakey sigh escaped you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hug him back. Resting your head on top of his.

You both stayed like that for a while but you could've stayed there forever.

After you calmed down a little you guided his face to look at you again.

"Blitz?"

"Uh oh. You're using my name. Am I in trouble?"

Your face went red again " Do you wanna be?" you asked leaning in closer, your eyes flickering to his lips.

He quickly realized what you were talking about and he smiled the biggest grin you'd ever seen.

"Fuck yes"

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x you #vivziepop #hellaverse #Blitz halluva boss x reader #Blitz x reader #fluff

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tare-anime · 11 months

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SxF Mission 84

(Beware of spoilers)

Oh woooooowwwwwwwwww!!!

Wheeler is really one capable spy!!!

Totally love him, Endo!!!

He can easily defeat 3 WISE agents!

Turning the table when it seems like he was already arrested

Using a small knife to nullified gun threats

And not falling for Twilight's tricks, even beat him down!!

Whoah....

Yea I know Twilight is already injured. But Wheeler really is a league of his own

With that kind of stamina, agility, skills, and adaptable analysis accuracy, are we sure he is not triple agent? That he's actually part of Garden?? Because I don't think SSS can have an agent of this caliber 🤣🤣🤣🤣 (sorry SSS).

Anyway, the chapter end with unhinged Fiona.

After unhinged Melinda back then, now we have unhinged Fiona. Endo sure loves his female characters, eh?? (And I love Endo for that 🥰)

Now the questions are, what is the reason for Fiona's rage? Is it:

1. A simple fangirl getting angry because her idol is hurt? Which is, tbh, rather meh. I really hope Endo use this narrative to develop Fiona's character. Which make possible reason no.2 is more interesting. That is...

2. Fiona's ideal or perfect Twilight (in her fantasy) is being broken to dust. She has to accept a bitter truth that at the end, Twilight is just another human and that's he is not invincible. So she better stop putting him on pedestal, and worship him. It is about time she surpass her mentor.

"Ambitious Fiona" is still a far more interesting characterization rather than "crazy fangirl with crazy dreams Fiona".

3. Fiona that has realized that Twilight is just mere human, now change her target to Wheeler. She has to kill this man (but Wheeler survive) and thus begin the cat and mouse game between the two. (What? Fiona and Wheeler? Don't you guys see it in that panel? How Wheeler flirt with Fiona by mocking her incapability? Fiona-Wheeler--> Feeler? 🤣🤣🤣 lol, I'm joking. Or maybe not 👀)

4. Fiona and Yuri first meet! She is upset cause Yuri is getting beaten down! (Ok, this is just my YuriIona impossible wish 🤣)

Ahem, what? Twilight is destinied to be with Yor. So let's make harem for Fiona instead.

Ok ok.

Angsty thought now.

What will happen when Yor heard the news that both of her boys has now been hurt and hospitalized? They might tell her that both got in a "totally happen in different place" car accident. But Yor herself is not a stranger to martial arts. She would definitelly recognize the wounds on Loid's and Yuri's body as a result from fighting. She will be devastated for sure. But her reaction can be:

1. She blame herself, and then start to do her night job harder. Kill harder. Clean the place harder.

2. She connects the dots and realized that Loid and Yuri has fight the other. She might be very upset at both of them. Yor herself might be not thinking about the boy's secret identity, but this will lead Yuri to realize who Loid really is.

Either way, this arc is getting more and more interesting!!!

I can't wait to read more, Endo! 🥰🥰

#spy x family #loid forger #fiona frost #winston wheeler #chp 84 #chapter review #sxf manga spoiler #sxf manga spoilers #spoiler #spoilers #sxf speculation

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namixart · 2 days

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It Takes Two

Read on AO3!

"Whatever happens, you can't fall in love with me. Even if you think you have, it's not real."

Cloud takes Aerith's request and turns it into a challenge.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” Cloud sat down across from Aerith, and she spotted his frown through the fire burning between them. Their small camp was tucked away in a corner of the Mythril Mines, on a ledge that Cloud and Barret had deemed reasonably defensible. Still, someone needed to keep watch, and it was Aerith’s turn. With Cloud now sitting silently across from her.

Across. Not beside her. Confrontational and direct in a way Cloud usually wasn’t when he joined her during her shifts. Curious.

Aerith cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

He shot her a half-glare, as if she should’ve guessed what he was talking about from his complete lack of preamble. “You know,” he said, predictably, gesturing vaguely with his hand. Confrontational, yes. But still uncomfortable with words. That was a clue as to what he meant, at least. But she wasn’t going to bail him out of that one. Not if he couldn’t even get it out himself. It’d buy her some time, at least.

“I really don’t. You know me—I’m a talker. Can’t remember ‘em all.” She shrugged with a smile.

Cloud huffed. “Oh, I’m sure you remember this one. It’s a doozy,” he said sardonically. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. “‘Whatever happens, you can’t fall in love with me. Even if you think you have, it’s not real.’” He opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Ring a bell?”

Verbatim. Even two weeks after their shared dream, two weeks of fighting and travelling and trying to change their fate, her words were burned in his memory. Just like the look on his face was burned in hers, she supposed.

Aerith let out a half giggle. “Ah. That does kinda shake a tambourine. What about it?” Stalling, stalling, stalling, buying time until she figured out what to say, what to do. He wanted an explanation, he wanted a say, he wanted the truth, and she couldn’t give it to him. The Whispers had taken it away. She didn’t know why she’d asked him that anymore, but she knew it was important. She knew it was for the best, in spite of the sheer agony it brought her to deny herself the chance to try. The chance to love him. It was important, but she didn’t know why anymore. And now Cloud would want to know.

He frowned at her. “Bullshit.”

Aerith blinked once. Twice. Furrowed her brows. “Well, that’s not very polite,” she said, forcing the airy cheer in her voice. Not what she was expecting, either. “What do you—”

Cloud shook his head. “Bullshit,” he repeated. “You can’t ask someone not to—you can’t ask me that.”

In spite of herself, Aerith cracked half a smile. There he was. Confrontational, yes, but he couldn’t say it twice. Her heart squeezed with affection for her—no, not hers. Never hers. Just Cloud.

“Why?” she asked. She’d beaten him to the punch. A well-placed why was a dangerous weapon. And, when aimed correctly at Cloud Strife, it had the power to make him swerve away from uncomfortable topics like they would burn him.

But he just frowned harder. “Because you don’t get to put that on me.”

Caught off-guard again, Aerith stared. “What?”

Cloud finally averted his eyes from her. “You can’t put that on me,” he repeated. “If you don’t feel—If you don’t want—” He gestured awkwardly between the two of them, and the flames of the campfire trembled— “then fine.”

Aerith forced a smile. This was what she wanted. It was. Distance between them. To protect him. From a threat she didn’t even know anymore. It was what she wanted. “Good. Then—”

“I’m not done.” He met her gaze again, stubborn and resolute. “You don’t get to put this on me. It takes two.”

“Huh?” Thrown off-balance again. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Aerith was supposed to be the one in control of her reactions. “What do you mean?”

Cloud crossed his arms. “I don’t get why you’d ask me that. And I doubt you’ll tell me.” He raised an eyebrow. Touché. But not for the reasons he thought. “I just know it’s got something to do with Whispers and fate and the Planet and all that.” He made a sharp, frustrated gesture in the general direction of the rest of the cave. “I know you wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”

“That’s right,” said Aerith, slowly. Where was he going with this?

Cloud pressed his lips together. “But you can’t put it on me. I don’t even know why it matters.”

She sighed. “Cloud—”

“It takes two,” he repeated, insistent like he was anchoring himself to those words, “so, if it’s that important, why don’t you not fall in love with me?”

“What!?” exclaimed Aerith, immediately regretting it when her voice echoed a little too loudly in the tunnels. “What?” she repeated in a whisper.

Cloud shrugged, faux-nonchalantly. “You heard me.”

“I did,” said Aerith. “But you—I... You can’t—”

He fixed her with an unimpressed look. “Oh, and you can?”

Aerith frowned. “That’s different.”

“Really.”

Cloud leaned forward, closer to the fire. It cast shifting shadows over his face, but the Mako glow in his eyes was steady. “Explain, then.”

She looked away. “I can’t. Not even if I wanted to. The Whispers—they took that knowledge away from me.”

He frowned again. “Then why—”

“Because I know it was important,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “I know I was trying to protect you. And that hasn’t changed. So, please—”

Cloud sighed and leaned away. “Fine. Wasn’t expecting an explanation anyway. Still. It’s real unfair of you to put it on me.”

She shot him a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry?”

Cloud shook his head. “Nah. Not good enough. Puttin’ it back on you.” He crossed his arms. “Like I said: if you care that much, you try not falling in love with me.”

Aerith felt the competitive spark tingle under her skin. “Maybe I will. Won’t.” She giggled. “You know what I mean.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Ball’s in your court.”

A beat.

She stared at him. “Wait—You don’t mean... You’re not—” He couldn’t. It had only been two weeks and she’d warned him.

He couldn’t be in love with her. He just couldn’t.

Finally, Cloud’s usual awkwardness seeped back into his eyes as he realised what she was asking, what he’d implied. “No! I–uh, I’m not. No,” he said, stubbornly looking away from Aerith. “It’s the, uh, the principle of the thing. It takes two. And I don’t see why it’s gotta be on me.”

Because someone has to be responsible here, thought Aerith, and I might not be. Not if you keep saying stuff like that.

When she didn’t reply, Cloud leaned towards her again. “Shouldn’t be a problem for you. Right?” he said, barely above a whisper. “It’s what you want.”

Aerith held his gaze. “It’s not a problem,” she lied.

Something flickered on his face. Aerith tried not to think about how it looked a lot like hurt. “Right,” he said.

She let a small beat of silence pass, then she cracked a smile. “Did we just—this a game of chicken or something?”

Cloud chuckled. “Or something.”

She pouted. “That’s so childish.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it takes two.” He held a hand out over the fire.

It takes two to tango, it takes two to fall in love, it takes two to make a stupid childish bet.

Aerith took his hand. “It takes two,” she agreed, gripping it tight for a moment.

Cloud nodded slowly, then shook his head. “Right. I, uh, I better let you get back to your shift.” He let her hand go and stood up. Aerith tried not to notice how he’d held onto her fingertips for just a second too long. “I, um, I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“Yeah,” said Aerith, as she watched him circle the campfire to get back to the tent. “Right. Glad.” They’d cleared nothing up, and they both knew it.

He paused. “Night, Aerith.”

She turned back to the fire. “Night, Cloud.”

After one last beat of silence, she heard the quiet rustle of fabric as he slipped inside the tent.

Then, left alone with just the crackling fire to underscore her thoughts, Aerith realised what she’d just agreed to.

“Shit,” she hissed, burying her face in her hands.

Betting Cloud she wouldn’t fall in love with him, daring herself not to get close. It was kinda like betting on a horse with a broken leg.

She was so, so screwed.

---

Despite what he’d implied during their conversation at the campfire, Cloud didn’t really act any differently around her the day after. Well, maybe there was an extra glance he’d toss her way while they were striking camp, maybe a lingering touch as he helped her up a ledge, maybe a hint of something in his voice when he spoke to her.

Or maybe it was Aerith being hyper aware of him.

For all that he’d laid bare his grievances the night before, she wasn’t really sure about his feelings or his intentions. He’d said it was a matter of principle—that it wasn’t fair of her to put the responsibility of them not becoming involved on him. He’d said the ball was in her court. He’d said he wanted a say in his feelings.

But he hadn’t actually said what his feelings were. Or what he wanted from her, from them. He’d simply rejected her request and issued a challenge, in his usual awkward fashion. Translated: I’m not going to try not falling in love with you. You do that, if you like.

Aerith could do that. Probably. She just had to ignore the burgeoning feelings in her chest. Easy. Those very feelings were totally not the reason she’d tried to engineer an unrequited love situation for herself by pushing Cloud away.

She could do it. No biggie.

Aerith was used to charmers. She knew how to skirt around their words, how not to fall for them. She was a flower seller; she was used to guys coming onto her while she was just trying to make some Gil, she was used to dodging their advances. She’d had Zack Fair. She knew how to handle charmers.

The problem was that Cloud wasn’t one.

Cloud was awkward, and sweet, and earnest, and blunt.

“You good?”

And he was walking right beside her.

“Hm-mm,” she said, linking her hands behind her back. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You, of course.” She winked, relishing in the way he cleared his throat and looked away. How Not To Get Attached 101, one hundred percent foolproof, Aerith-brand pointless flirting.

“Get real,” he muttered, shooting her a small glare. “Or have you lost the game already?”

Okay, maybe just seventy percent foolproof. Aerith giggled. “Nope. Just teasing.”

Cloud rolled his eyes. “You’re always teasing.”

“That’s me.” She winked.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “That’s you alright,” he said, letting a fond note slip into his voice.

Aerith swallowed a knot in her throat and turned away to look ahead.

Cloud wasn’t a charmer. And that was the problem.

---

“You ever feel like life is mocking you?”

Aerith couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Sometimes. Like right now.”

Cloud groaned as they both followed Naomi down the sunny streets of Costa del Sol. She and her friends wanted to see a real couple on a date, Cloud wanted to get paid, and Aerith wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed at Johnny’s and disappear. How was she supposed to keep her distance from Cloud if they kept straight-up dating?

“You don’t get to say that,” he muttered almost absentmindedly.

She winced, but he wasn’t looking at her. He didn’t seem to have noticed he’d said that out loud, so she let it slide, averting her gaze as well and frowning a little bit. For the first time in a while, she couldn’t quite read him. Was he happy about their predicament? Was he annoyed? Embarrassed? A combination of the three?

The girls had called them a couple. Aerith wished it was that simple.

She closed her eyes for a moment. If they were a couple, she could’ve reached out to the side and taken Cloud’s hand in hers, entwining their fingers as they walked. If they were a couple, maybe he’d be complaining about having an audience on their date while a cute blush coloured his cheeks. If they were a couple, she wouldn’t feel like her life was mocking her.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” said Cloud. His eyes were focused on his feet, minding his step.

Aerith swallowed a knot in her throat as she leaned close to him. “Well, you know, there’s no rule book. We can just be ourselves. Have fun just hanging out, y’know? Let ‘em think what they want about us.”

Cloud looked like he was going to argue, a spark of fire flickering in his eyes as he shot her a glance, but the resolve on his face waned just as quickly as it had arrived. Aerith bit her lip. This job was a bad idea.

But… But maybe it’d be fun to pretend, just for a while, that they could be a normal couple. That they could spend an afternoon roaming a charming seaside town together, enjoying each other’s company. Then again, the indulgence was dangerous. If she reached out and took his hand, would she let go when the day ended? Would he?

She sighed. No. Better to stick to her guns. They would have a pleasant time with the activities Naomi and the others had planned for them, and then they’d return to the rest of the group and tell them about their weird job. They’d go back to the hunt for Sephiroth and nothing would change.

Nothing would change, nothing had to change, if nothing changed he’d be safe, it was what the Aerith of the past had wanted, and that Aerith knew better than the Aerith of the present, because the Aerith of the present didn’t know anything except for the burning need to keep Cloud safe, no matter how much it ripped her heart in half, and—

A warm weight slipped into her hand, hesitant but determined. She blinked twice, hard, chasing those frantic thoughts away from her mind. She looked down at the hand holding hers, then slowly back up at Cloud, who was still resolutely facing forward despite the fact that pink dusted his cheeks.

Aerith heard herself make a small questioning noise through the fog in her brain.

Cloud shot her a glance, part plea, part glare, part challenge. “We’re on the clock, aren’t we?”

She nodded slowly, but the words stayed stuck in her throat.

He shrugged, jostling her hand. “Let’s give ‘em what they want, then.” The statement felt loaded, a little bitter, a little teasing. What the girls wanted. What about what Aerith and Cloud wanted?

“Right,” she breathed. She didn’t want to picture how dumb she looked in that moment. She felt sluggish and slow, as if she’d woken up from a deep slumber. But it was just Cloud holding her hand.

His small smile was halfway between relieved and smug, and Aerith idly thought that she kinda wanted to kiss that look off his face. Unfortunately, it would only have made him even more smug and, well, she couldn’t have that on top of losing their stupid little game.

So, she just looked ahead, at Naomi waving them over to the Run Wild stand. If Cloud tightened his hold on her hand just for a fraction of a second, she pretended not to notice.

---

“I thought you’d gone to bed.”

Cloud played a loud, startled chord on the piano as Aerith came up behind him. “Uh,” he said eloquently. “I haven’t.”

“I can tell.”

He winced, his shoulders stiffening.

She paused, biting her lip. She hadn’t expected to run into him just yet. She’d thought she’d have more time to get her feelings sorted. But there he was, in the same small Gongaga hut she’d chosen to find some shade in. It looked to be some sort of community centre, not unlike the one in the Sector 5 undercity, but it was almost empty. Just Aerith, Cloud, and a heavy blanket of unease weighing them both down.

She was supposed to be mad at him, wasn’t she?

Forget about that loser.

Hate to break it to you, but the man is dead.

Horrifically insensitive, to say the least. And very unlike him. Sometimes, it was like there was something bubbling just under his skin, something that had burst out for that one moment. Aerith had no idea why, out of all possible topics, he’d reacted that badly to Zack specifically. Or, rather, she had two ideas that maybe were the same idea, but she hated all of them.

Idea one: it was the degradation, that uncomfortable elephant in the room, that ticking clock threatening to take Cloud away from her—no, take him away from them—at any moment. For as much as they all avoided talking about it, she knew it weighed heavily on everyone, Cloud most of all. Yet, Aerith couldn’t quite shake the feeling that while, yes, something was wrong, it wasn’t degradation. It was something… different. Maybe something worse.

Idea two: it had nothing to do with Zack and everything to do with her. The thought made her stomach churn a little, in ways that she couldn’t quite identify—and she hated herself for that. For the small, selfish part of her that was, maybe, just a little happy at the thought that Cloud could’ve been jealous.

Idea both-of-them: the thought of Aerith and Zack had bothered him, but the intensity of his outburst had been amplified by the thing going on with him, degradation or otherwise.

Aerith hated all of those ideas. But she couldn’t hate him. She couldn’t even be mad.

Cloud cleared his throat, without turning around on the stool. “I, uh…”

She hummed quietly. She shifted her weight on her feet for a moment, considering. Then, slowly, she took the couple of steps needed to close the distance between them and sat down on the stool beside him. Cloud gasped quietly, then hurried to make more room for her.

Aerith took a deep breath. She didn’t look at him, just kept her gaze trained on the sheet music in front of him. It was titled Hollow. “You, uh…?”

She felt him stiffen. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fiddle with his hands in his lap. “Shouldn’t have said that stuff.”

“No,” she said. “You shouldn’t have.” She frowned. “Why’d you say it?”

There was a long, excruciating beat of silence. “I… don’t know,” he murmured, like he was struggling to get that much sound out of his throat. “I don’t—It just came out.”

Shit. The degradation.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Aerith shook her head. “I’m not upset. Not at you, anyway.”

“You… aren’t?”

“No. Just—” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “I’m upset at things, I guess.”

He shifted slightly to turn back the pages on the sheet music. “Yeah. Me too. That’s why I came here.”

“To play?”

Cloud hummed. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get my thoughts in order and then come find you but, well…”

Aerith giggled quietly. “But I found you first.”

He shook his head. “Yes and no. You did find me first, but…” He sighed. “Thing is, I can’t get my head on straight.” She finally looked at him. He was frowning deeply, thumbing the edge of the sheet music without really seeing the notes. “I’m trying to find a single thought that makes sense, but there are none. It’s just static.”

Aerith nodded slowly. “Wanna talk about it?”

Cloud lowered his gaze. “No point. I keep asking myself why the hell I said that, but I come up empty.” He furrowed his brows. “I never want to hurt you, no matter how ticked off I get.”

Ah. So their conversation had bothered him.

Damnit. It was idea both-of-them after all. Aerith winced.

Cloud continued, oblivious to her reaction. “I’m not stupid—I know saying shit like that’s gonna upset people. It’s just that sometimes it’s not worth the effort to spare feelings when there are more important things to do.” He shook his head. “But never with you. You’re—” He cut himself off. He sighed, looking back down at his hands. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Wish I could tell you why I said that.”

Aerith bit her lip. Slowly, she reached out and took one of Cloud’s hands in hers. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

Cloud finally looked at her, still frowning. “It’s not. I shouldn’t—”

She shook her head. “Not that. It’s okay if you can’t tell me why you said it.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, then let it drop to his hands again. “I guess.” She could tell that he didn’t really guess, but she didn’t push it. She knew how frustrating it was to find static where information should have been in her mind. It was like that when she tried to remember what the Whispers had taken away.

Cloud sighed again, letting some of the tension leave his shoulders. Not all of it, though. “Can I ask you a question? It’s, uh, related. To—” He made a vague sweeping gesture with his free hand.

Aerith cocked her head to the side. “Shoot.”

“Zack,” he said, wincing a little. “Is he… Is he the reason why…?” He trailed off.

When he didn’t speak again, she frowned. “You’re gonna have to finish that thought, Cloud. I’m not a mind reader.”

He grimaced. “Right. Sorry. Back in Midgar, when you asked me… that.” He was blushing and refusing to meet her eye. Clearly he’d used up all his bravado when he’d quoted her request to her face and turned it back on her. “Was that because of Zack? Because you still like him?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He tossed her an odd look. “You don’t think so?”

“I told you. I don’t remember exactly why I asked anymore. But I remember everything about Zack.” She smiled a bit. Hard guy to forget, even after he’d disappeared, even though all in all they hadn’t spent that much time together.

She felt Cloud stiffen, and he delicately pulled his hand from hers. “I—sorry.”

Aerith furrowed her brows. “Why are you sorry?”

He winced. “I’ve been pushy. And unfair. Sorry. I won’t get in the way, I promise.” He sounded a little strangled, like it pained him to say those words out loud.

Almost in spite of herself, Aerith half-laughed. “In the way? Of me and a guy who disappeared on me five years ago?”

Cloud stared at her for a moment. “But you said—”

Aerith sighed. “It’s complicated, okay? I liked him, but then he just… vanished. I never got any closure.” She closed her eyes. “But… Cloud, our situation is complicated too.”

“Aerith, seriously, if you still—”

“That’s not it.” She didn’t know why she wasn’t taking the easy way out, why she didn’t just let him believe she still liked Zack. Maybe it was because, in spite of everything, she hated lying to him. Or maybe it was just selfishness. “Zack’s got nothing to do with you and me.” She gave his shoulder a light nudge. “Promise.”

Cloud shot her a glance. “But you’re still playing your little game.”

She half-laughed. “Your little game. And yes. Still in it.”

His shoulders slumped a bit, a mix of releasing tension and sagging dejectedly. “Getting mixed signals here.”

“I thought I was very clear in Midgar,” she said, shrugging. “You’re the one who decided not to listen to me.”

“I still think you were unfair to dump that on me.” He was pouting a little, now. Cute.

Aerith stuck her tongue out at him. “Well, you dumped it right back on me, didn’t you?”

“It takes two,” he said, without meeting her eyes.

She hummed. “It takes two.”

A moment of silence fell over the two of them. It was almost comfortable now, only slightly weighed down by the uncertainty and the stupid, stupid games they were playing. Aerith just had to keep telling herself it was better like that. She was already too close to the edge of the precipice; she couldn’t keep dancing on it. She would fall, and take Cloud right down with her. He didn’t deserve it.

He pressed his lips together, then opened his mouth to say something, and Aerith knew she had to stop him.

“I know how you can make it up to me,” she said, straightening up. “For what you said.”

Cloud blinked at her. “I thought you weren’t mad.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I am a little. But I know how you can make it up to me.” She leaned forward and tapped the sheet music. “Play me something.”

“Oh.” He looked down at the piano keys like he was seeing them for the first time. “I’m, uh… really not that good.”

Aerith clicked her tongue. “I’ll be the judge of that. C’mon, I wanna hear! I’ve heard Tifa play, it’s only fair. I have to figure out who’s better.”

There was a spark of competitiveness in his eyes, but he quickly looked away. “…Probably her,” he said, slowly like it took a toll on him to admit he wasn’t the best at something.

“Won’t know until you play. Chop chop, music man.” She grinned.

Cloud let out a breath of a laugh, then gingerly laid his hands atop the keys. As he started to play, Aerith closed her eyes and sighed.

The song was nice, slow and melancholy. He would stumble on the keys, every once in a while, and then he would play the next notes a little too loud to compensate. It wasn’t perfect, and Tifa was better, but it was still nice.

And, best of all, the music filled the air between them so that no unwelcome thoughts or words could get through. Inside the music, there was quiet and peace.

---

Aerith hadn’t known that you could see stars before the sunset.

She sucked in an excited gasp of crisp Cosmo Canyon air as she looked up at the celestial phenomenon, clasping her hands in front of her. Cloud had told her about the bright evening star that appeared in the Nibelheim sky before all the others, before the sun had even set, but seeing stars in the violet early evening of the Canyon was still magical.

“How are you still surprised by this?” chuckled Cloud, holding the celestiograph up to his face. Well, that was what Caesar had called it, but all it was was a fancy camera. Cloud was surprisingly good with it, and was quietly proud of himself in a way that was very different from his smugness when it came to physical feats of strength or agility, but no less endearing.

Aerith huffed. “How are you not?”

He shrugged. “I thought the other one was cooler.”

“You just can’t appreciate beauty in life and nature.”

He snorted, but didn’t reply.

Aerith walked a few steps away from him, closer to the stars—infinitesimally so. She’d always known that the light fixtures in the underside of the Plate in Midgar were a sorry imitation of the real things, but she only really realised that now. The sky, the stars made her feel so small and young compared to the rest of the universe around her. A wave of emotion hit her, and she couldn’t tell which part was hers and which was the Planet’s. She brought her trembling hands together in front of her, and she closed her eyes in a silent prayer.

A quiet click came from behind her.

She straightened up. Cloud was finally satisfied with his shot composition, then. She turned around, only to find that he wasn’t looking at the sky. Both his gaze and the camera were fixed on her.

He froze like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar, and the camera chose that moment to slowly spit out the picture. She shot him a perplexed smile. He returned it, hesitant but fond. Then, again, click. Aerith giggled, shaking her head—click.

“Cloud, c’mon,” she said, half-laughing and half-scolding. “What’re you doing?”

Instead of answering, Cloud just hit the shutter button again. And again, and again, click-click-click until Aerith walked up to him and snatched the camera from his hands, with the string of printouts trailing after it. Still giggling, she held it out of his reach, knowing full well how easy it would’ve been for him to just steal it back even as he made a half-hearted attempt. “Had your fun?”

Cloud chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “Think so.”

“Why’d you do that?” she asked, stepping away from him and taking the camera with her.

He shrugged. “Dunno. Felt like it.”

She hummed. The line burned on the tip of her tongue. Why did I do that? I was appreciating beauty. If Cloud had been a little more like her or like Zack, he would have said it. But he wasn’t. She wondered whether he’d thought of it and just chickened out, or if it hadn’t even crossed his mind. After all, it was right there. But she couldn’t quite picture him saying something that cheesy and flirty with a straight face. It just wasn’t his style. He probably thought little comments like that were insincere, empty.

Aerith smiled, remembering Costa del Sol.

They ’re just thoughts. Let ‘em be dark and ugly. You’re not. Whatever you decide, I’m with you.

Cloud didn’t do insincere. He wasn’t a charmer or a flirt. He was just himself.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, taking a couple of steps towards her.

Aerith shook her head. “Nothing, nothing.”

He held out a hand. “Can I have that back? We still got a job to do.”

“Not yet,” she said, hiding the camera behind her back with a smile. “You know, it’s not really fair.”

“What is?”

Aerith rocked on the balls of her feet. “Well, you have all these pictures of me and I have none of you.” She delicately detached the string of printouts and handed it to him.

Cloud took it, but he stiffened a little bit and scratched the back of his neck, looking away. “You, uh, want a picture of me?”

“I want a picture of us. Let’s take a selfie together,” she said, holding up the camera as she hopped to his side.

Cloud just nodded as she pressed herself even closer to him, delicately taking his arm. She shot him a smile, then looked back to the camera. Click. Cloud stilled for a moment.

Giggling, she lowered the camera to take a look at the picture. “Aww, we look—” She cut herself off when she saw it. In the photo, Aerith was slightly dishevelled from the wind, but she was smiling happily at the camera as she leaned towards Cloud. But Cloud… He was turned towards her, with soft eyes and a half smile, fond and thoughtful. She pressed her lips together as she thumbed the edge of the picture. He looked at her like he was looking at a painting, or a sunrise, or the starry night sky. He looked at her like he—

Aerith blinked twice, hard. She wondered if that was how he always looked at her when she wasn’t paying attention.

Cloud cleared his throat. “Ah, sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I ruined it.”

But Aerith slowly shook her head. “No, no. It’s perfect,” she said. She took the printout and held it up to her chest. “Perfect.”

He turned to her, silent for a long beat. His expression was indecipherable, but at the same time he looked the way Aerith felt: uncertain, balancing on the edge of their dumb precipice. Or maybe he was waiting for her at the bottom, wondering if she would ever take that step. And she wanted to, she wanted to join him so badly.

But she couldn’t.

“Aerith…” he whispered, a plea.

She closed her eyes and turned away. “Let’s just take the picture and go,” she said. Her voice was steady, at least.

“Aerith,” he repeated a little louder, but still strained. She heard him take a hesitant step forward.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just—please, don’t.” She bit her lip, willing her heart to slow down.

“Why?”

She stilled, sucking in a sharp breath. Ah, there it was—the well-placed why used as a weapon. She’d have been proud if she didn’t feel so damn sad.

“It’s better this way,” she said. “Trust me.”

“You don’t know that,” said Cloud, frustrated. He circled around her to try and catch her eye, but she turned her face away. “Maybe you used to, but you don’t know anymore. You said it yourself.”

Aerith pressed her lips together. “Things don’t stop being true because we don’t remember them anymore.”

He crossed his arms. “But what if they were never true? What if they changed?”

She shook her head. “I’m not risking that.” I’m not risking you. “Know what hasn’t changed? Me wanting to protect you.” She attempted a smile. “And me not losing our game.” If the conditions of the game required her admitting it out loud, anyway.

Cloud regarded her for a long moment, then sighed. “I hate this game.”

She snuck a glance at him. He didn’t look all that upset—more mildly exasperated. Aerith smiled hesitantly. “It was your idea.”

“Never claimed it was a good one.”

“Well, you’re stuck with it, mister.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re stuck with it. You’re the one playing.”

Cloud was not subtle when he wanted to throw a jab at her about something. Still, Aerith let it slide. “C’mon,” she said, handing him the camera back. “Let’s finish the job.”

As he pointed the camera at the stars again, she delicately tucked their selfie into her jacket pocket, next to her heart.

---

When Aerith opened the door to her room at the Nidhogg Inn to find Cloud standing in front of her, she wasn’t all that surprised. He’d been on edge around her for a few days, always fidgeting and hesitant. Sometimes, she’d catch him just… looking at her, studying her like she was going to vanish at any moment. It was clear that he needed to talk to her. Aerith just hoped it wouldn’t be a confession of some sort. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep pretending.

“It’s kind of late,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Something wrong?”

Cloud pressed his lips together. “Can we talk? Alone?” He shot a glance over her shoulder, to the room where Tifa and Yuffie were still asleep.

She nodded as she stepped out of the doorway. “Lucky I was the one who answered, huh?” she said with a small smile.

Cloud didn’t return it—just shot her that same long look she’d noticed in the days prior. “Let’s go,” he said. He made a jerky movement as if he’d wanted to take her by the hand and then thought better of it. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him.

Aerith hummed as he turned around and made for the stairs. He led her out of the inn, in the chilly Nibelheim night. She rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “This better be good,” she chuckled.

“Dunno about good,” he said, shooting her an apologetic glance. “But it’s important.”

She nodded. Cloud paused for a second, as if considering where to take her, then he gestured to the water tower. “C’mon.”

They climbed the ladder in silence, then sat side by side in the same spots they’d been in just hours before. It was slightly less cold up there, and Aerith realised there was some sort of machine behind them, buzzing quietly and emitting a bit of warmth.

Cloud caught her perplexed look and shrugged. “It’s the same as when I was a kid. This thing’s responsible for all the water in the village, and it overheats like crazy. Weird that it hasn’t changed.” He looked away. “Didn’t think to bring a blanket, so I figured this was the next best thing.”

Aerith smiled a bit. “It is. Thanks.”

He hummed, but didn’t say anything else.

She let a few moments pass in silence. Then, she sighed. “You know, if you just wanted some company, I don’t think you’d have taken us all the way up here. Out of earshot of everyone else.” She lightly kicked her heels together. “So, what is it?”

Cloud stiffened. “Right.” He took a deep breath, and Aerith braced herself. “I, uh, I talked to Red—Nanaki.”

She blinked at him. Not what she was expecting. “Okay?” she said. “What’d you talk about?”

He fiddled with his hands in his lap. “He asked me not to say anything, but it’s too important—a-and I guess you already know about it anyway. Besides, it’s about you, and—”

“Cloud.” She put a hand on his arm, forcing him to look at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Start over?”

“Uh, sorry.” He winced. “He said… He said that you two could see the future, back in Midgar. Before the Whispers,” he muttered. “Is that true?”

She grimaced and looked away. Why, Nanaki? “True enough,” she replied. “But I couldn’t tell you what I saw now.”

Cloud nodded. “That’s what Nanaki said too. Said that you lost that knowledge.”

“That’s right.”

“Is that why you didn’t want me to lo—like you?”

Aerith drew in a sharp breath. His words were soft, but measured, careful. He had to have rehearsed them all in those moments where he’d looked like he wanted to talk to her. She couldn’t face him.

When she didn’t reply, he continued, “Because you saw something in our future?”

Slowly, she nodded. “…Yeah.” She felt him still. “But I don��t know what it was. I told you before.”

“You have.” Cloud sighed. “Nanaki said that… He said that he thinks you’re in danger.”

Aerith kept her eyes trained on the dark silhouette of the house in front of her. “He did, did he?”

“Please don’t play dumb.” There was a strained note in his voice, now. A desperate note.

“I’m not,” she said, biting her lip. “I told you, I can’t remember. But we’re all in danger, aren’t we?”

Cloud scoffed. “You know what I mean.” He let another long moment of silence pass. “Listen… Whatever it was, we changed it, right? The Whispers—”

She shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t know. We’ve been over this, Cloud, I’m not risking it. I had a good reason for asking you that, even though I don’t remember it anymore. And now you know why.”

“What about—” He cut himself off with a frustrated noise, pulling up a leg to his chest. “So that’s how it is. You make all the decisions and I just have to follow ‘em.”

Aerith frowned. “That’s not fair.”

“No. It’s not.”

Silence fell again. Aerith fiddled with her hands in her lap. Cloud was upset, frustrated, angry even. She didn’t know how to make it better without making it infinitely worse. Without putting him even more at risk. Maybe it was better this way—the anger would be temporary, whereas whatever was waiting for him in the future she’d forgotten was a permanent scar, a pain that would never leave him.

“Hey,” he started suddenly. “If you could see the future back then… Does that mean you knew I was going to…?” He gestured vaguely between the two of them instead of finishing his question, but Aerith didn’t need him to.

Did you know I was going to fall in love with you? Were we always doomed? Was there ever a chance?

She sighed. “Dunno. Maybe that’s the future we averted.” She attempted a small smile. She didn’t even believe her own words.

And Cloud didn’t either, judging from his scoff. “Aerith.”

“What?”

“C’mon.” He looked away and whispered, so quiet that she almost missed it, “It was inevitable.”

Aerith clenched her hands on the edge of the platform. Hearing him say that should have filled her with joy. Yet, all she could feel was regret, dread, and fear. “I didn’t think you believed in fate,” she said shakily.

He tossed her a sidelong glance, then shook his head. “I don’t. Fate’s got nothing to do with it.” He took a deep breath. “It’s because of who you are and who I am.” His voice was trembling just a little.

Aerith pressed her lips together, feeling her eyes starting to sting. She knew how hard it was for him to be vulnerable like that, to lay his feelings bare and risk getting hurt for it. And she hated herself because she had to do just that—hurt him.

“Cloud—”

He shook his head. “Don’t you get it, Aerith? I can’t let anything happen to you—I won’t.” He looked at her, defiant and determined. “I promised Nanaki, and I’m promising you. I’ll keep you safe. No matter what happens, no matter what you say.”

Aerith stared at him, tears in her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him, to hold him close, to apologise, to kiss him until all the hurt and all the fear were forgotten. But she was terrified. It was all so much, too much. She was just glad he’d never said the word love.

“Cloud,” she whispered, desperately trying to hold back the tears. “Cloud, please—”

Emboldened by her reaction, he reached out and gently touched her cheek. “It’s real. So real that it feels like I’m drowning.” He sounded like it too, quiet and strangled and tender.

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pulling her face away from his hand. “Cloud, I—please, don’t do this,” she whispered.

Cloud retracted his hand like he’d been burned. “I—I’m not doing anything,” he said. “I told you before. If—If you don’t feel—if it’s just me, then that’s fine. But you said that it wouldn’t be real, and you’re wrong.”

She knew. She’d always been wrong. But she couldn’t afford to be right.

Aerith shook her head again. “Cloud, what do you want me to say?”

He made another frustrated noise. “I want you to stop lying to me, I guess. Be a nice start.”

“I… I’ve never lied to you,” she said in a sigh. “Wish I had, honestly. I could’ve told you I was still in love with Zack, and we wouldn’t be here right now. But there are questions I just can’t answer.”

Cloud shot her a glance. “Because…?”

“Because I’d tell you the truth,” said Aerith. “And it’d put you in danger.”

He leaned a bit closer. “I can take care of myself. What if I was okay with that?”

“I’m not.” She bit her lip. “I’m just not.”

It was hard to breathe. She stood up suddenly, leaning a bit on the water tower so she wouldn’t lose her balance.

“Aerith?” Cloud shot to his feet as well, holding out his hands as if he wanted to steady her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m going back.”

Cloud looked torn for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, or do something. But in the end he just nodded stiffly. “Right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

She turned around, unable to look him in the eye any longer. They made their way back to the inn in uncomfortable silence, with Cloud walking just slightly behind Aerith. Once they got to her room, she stilled with her hand hovering over the doorknob, and Cloud stopped as well.

“Aerith?” he called softly.

She shook her head and took a deep breath before turning around. “I’m sorry, Cloud,” she whispered. “I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.” She let her gaze fall to her feet and pressed her lips together.

Cloud didn’t say anything right away. Aerith saw him shift his weight from one foot to the other, then he took a hesitant step forward. Gingerly, his arms came around her shoulders as he pulled her into a gentle hug. Aerith swallowed back a sob as she brought her hands to his waist, not quite hugging back but not pushing him away either.

“I wish I could do something to help,” he whispered in her hair. “You’re hurting too. I wanna make it go away, but… But you won’t let me.”

She shook her head, but didn’t reply. They stayed together like that for a long moment, both unwilling to be the one to either step away or bring them closer.

Aerith felt his lips brushing against her hair again. “Aerith,” he murmured. “It’s real.”

She tightened her grip on his waist, just barely, just for a moment. “I know,” she replied. “I’m sorry.”

---

Cloud hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a second, not since she’d appeared on the virtual stage of the Gold Theatre, clad in white and ready to sing. She’d felt his gaze burn like it was the sun looking at her, following her every movement, listening to her every word. And it was just as well, she figured, since it was all for him.

Aerith couldn’t give Cloud all that he wanted, but she could give him something at least. A song, a moment, a memory.

A date.

She hadn’t called it that, of course. It was just a friendly outing between friends who were friendly. She was kinda glad, actually, that the rest of their companions had also come to the showing of Loveless. Granted, they were sitting apart from Aerith and Cloud, but it helped dilute the tension. If Aerith concentrated enough, it almost felt like the two of them were just part of the group, even if a little physically far.

And if she concentrated further still, she could almost make out the voices in the Lifestream laughing at her in the back of her head. Did it still count as denial if she was self-aware about it?

Cloud linked back up with her at the exit of the theatre, after all of their friends had already left the premises. Aerith waved at him with a small smile, and he returned both.

“So!” she exclaimed, bouncing up to him. “What d’you think?”

"I think you were amazing,” he said, sounding a little dazed. “You write that song?”

Aerith hummed. “Just wanted to try my hand at it.”

He half-laughed. “Right. And now you’re gonna have producers at your doorstep.”

“Well, sadly I don’t have one of those right now.”

“A doorstep?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your mom’s place?”

Aerith giggled. “She’s gonna chase ‘em off with a broom.”

They laughed, then she smiled at him. “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.”

He nodded slowly, then averted his gaze. Silence fell, but it was soon interrupted by the loudspeaker: “Attention, all park guests. The Skywheel will be closing soon. Don’t miss out on your chance to experience the Gold Saucer from a truly breathtaking angle!”

Oh, the Skywheel. Aerith thought vaguely that she and Cloud had never gotten to go during their first visit to the park. Things between them were still complicated, but maybe back then she could have played it off as more of a casual date. She couldn’t do that anymore: they were both in too deep and her self control was the last thin line of defence against disaster.

But she really had to stop assuming she was the only one making decisions.

Cloud, next to her, cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”

“Hm?” She turned to look at him. “Where?”

He nodded towards Event Square’s exit. “Skywheel. I wanna see what all the fuss is about. Besides, uh, we got unfinished business.” He scratched the back of his head without looking at her, but she could still see that the tips of his ears had turned pink.

Aerith felt herself soften. “Unfinished business, huh?” she said quietly.

Cloud hummed awkwardly.

She thought for a moment. There was something else she could give him. A little bit of closure wherever she could.

“Okay,” said Aerith. “Let’s go.”

He snapped back to her, as if he hadn’t expected her to give in without a fight. “Uh, yeah. Let’s.”

On the way to Skywheel square, they were quiet, but Aerith didn’t mind the silence. The air between them was charged, though, even more than usual. Maybe it was the way Cloud kept sneaking quick glances at Aerith, maybe it was the way she kept catching him because she was doing the same. More than once, she found herself desperately wanting to reach for his hand, wanting to hold him. Wanting, wanting, she wanted so much. And knowing he wanted the same things was agonising.

The crowds around them were loud and rowdy, excited, normal. More than anything, Aerith wanted to be normal. Just for a little while, she wanted to be a normal girl on a date with a boy she liked and who liked her. Was that really so wrong?

She sighed deeply.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she reached out and slipped her hand in Cloud’s. He jumped a little, startled, and turned to her, eyes wide as saucers. He didn’t pull away, though. “Aerith?”

“Just for tonight,” she heard herself whisper. “Okay?”

Emotions flashed over his face in fast succession: joy, disappointment, pain, anger, acceptance. He closed his eyes and looked to be counting to ten. “If that’s what you want,” he said. The hurt note in his voice was impossible to miss, but Aerith ignored it all the same.

It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was the best she could do. One Skywheel ride, one night, one date to get it all out of her system, and then they could go back to the way they were without having to wonder anymore. Or, at least, she prayed it would happen like that.

She smiled a bit, and he returned it, then she lightly pulled on his hand. “C’mon,” she said. “This way.”

The loudspeaker in Skywheel Square was still giving out the announcement about the ride closing soon, with an attendant eagerly waving excited guests closer. Aerith and Cloud joined the queue, but they didn’t have to wait long for their turn. Aerith hopped into the spacious cabin first, giggling at the spectacle of lights already visible from the windows. A quiet thump behind her told her that Cloud was on board too, and she turned to grin at him. He sat down first on one side of the cabin and, after some consideration, Aerith settled a fair distance from him—not far enough to be awkward, not close enough to be intimate.

As their cabin slowly began its climb upwards, Aerith’s attention was pulled outside the window. The fireworks show was starting.

“Wow, look at that!” she exclaimed.

The sky was an explosion of colours, mixing together in beautiful shapes all around them. She couldn’t see the stars in the sky, replaced by the light of the fireworks. Below and all around them, the rest of the Gold Saucer’s attractions and events were in full swing, from the roller coasters to the Chocobo races to the flash mob in the Terminal Square. It was loud and chaotic and frenetic. And yet, inside the Skywheel cabin, all was quiet and intimate.

Aerith glanced back at Cloud, only to catch him looking at her the way he had back in Cosmo Canyon, the way that was forever immortalised in the picture Aerith kept carefully tucked in her jacket pocket. She bit her lip.

“I know I’ve been weird,” she said, quietly. “And a little unfair.”

Cloud shook himself out of his reverie and raised an eyebrow. “A little?”

She half-laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. “It hasn’t exactly been easy for me, either.” She frowned. “You know… when we first met, there was something about you that really bothered me.”

He furrowed his brows. “Hey,” he said softly, without any real animosity. “I know I was kind of a dick, but—”

Aerith giggled. “Not that. Although…” She winked and he rolled his eyes, then she shook her head. “No, it was something else. It was in the way you talked, the way you carried yourself… I haven’t seen him in five years, but suddenly there was you, and if I wasn’t careful I’d start thinking he was there, wearing your clothes and your face.”

Cloud nodded slowly. “Zack?”

She hummed. “But he wasn’t. It’s always just been you. You, running around the slums with me. You, saving me from Shinra HQ. You, here with me right now.” Aerith sighed and leaned back into her seat. “You’re different, and things are different, and that’s okay.”

“Aerith—”

“But… there’s still so much I don’t know,” she continued. “So much that’s fuzzy and unclear.”

The degradation, her stolen memories, Sephiroth looming over it all. It felt so much bigger than her.

She stood up. Cloud’s eyes were on her, she could feel them, but she couldn’t meet them. “The thing is, Cloud… I’m trying so hard to find you.” The words were just flowing out of her now, as if someone else was speaking through her. Cloud was Cloud, he was right there, but he wasn’t, and—

He echoed her thoughts: “But I’m right here.” He blinked twice at her.

Aerith sighed. “I know, but…”

He let a long, uncomfortable beat pass. “Degradation, right?” he asked, quietly.

She froze. She turned around. He’d stood up as well without her noticing, and he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed and eyes planted on the fireworks show outside without really seeing it.

“…No,” she heard herself say. “Not degradation.” As she said it, she knew it was true. There was something else keeping him from her. But she couldn’t begin to guess.

Cloud took a tentative step towards her. “Then what?” he asked, maybe a little sharper than he’d meant to.

She flinched, and it seemed like the cabin flinched with her. The floor disappeared from under her feet, and she tumbled forward. Instinctively, she put her arms up to brace herself for the collision with the seat or the floor, but the only thing she hit was something warm and solid. Aerith blinked up at Cloud, as dazed as he looked. Maybe he’d caught her, maybe they’d just crashed into each other. Either way, she was gathered into his arms, feeling his pulse quicken under her fingertips in tandem with hers. He swallowed thickly as he looked down at her.

“I, uh, I think one of those solid holograms hit us,” he muttered.

“Oh,” she said. “Scary.”

“You’re okay. I got you.”

It was her turn to gulp down a knot in her throat. Cloud didn’t take his eyes away from hers, and they were so intense that they were burning.

“If it’s not the degradation, then what is it?” he asked quietly, not letting her go. “You said you want to find me—help me make that happen. I… I want you to find me. Just tell me how to let you.”

Aerith just stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open. “Cloud…” she whispered. “I—I don’t know. I—”

The moment dragged on for a few tense, electric seconds.

A burst of fireworks exploded with a loud bang, and the sound cut between them like a knife. Aerith jumped out of his arms with a gasp as her world once again expanded to contain things other than Cloud Strife. “Woah,” she said, pressing a hand on her heart. “Is it just me, or was that way closer than the others?”

Cloud shook his head. “Uh… Oh, we’re just getting close to the top, I think.”

A glance out of the window told her that he was right. “I see,” she said, sitting back down. “This is safe, right?”

Cloud shrugged as he sat down too—again, just far enough from her as to not be intimate, the moment from before gone like a mirage. “It’s fine,” he said. “Not that Shinra gives a shit about people’s safety, but if this thing were dangerous, nobody would wanna set foot on it. Huge loss of profit.”

Aerith giggled and leaned back in her seat. “Reassuring. Kinda.” She sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to enjoy the show, then.”

He hummed, then turned back to the fireworks. Aerith studied him for a second. The moment was gone, but not forgotten. He still had a crease of worry between his brows, and her hands itched to reach out to smooth it over.

She bit her lip. Slowly, hesitantly, she scooted closer to him. “Forget about what I said, okay?” she whispered. “Let’s not worry about that. Not tonight.”

Cloud tossed her a sidelong look. “Forget about it?” He huffed a little. “You say the strangest stuff, and I’m just supposed to forget about it?”

“Yup,” she said, popping the p and forcing a playful grin on her face. “You know me. I don’t always make sense.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, doubt clearly painted on his face. Then, he sighed and turned away. “Fine,” he said, dropping his eyes to the floor. He still looked unsteady, though, and like he wanted to ask a million questions. That wasn’t a look she wanted on his face—not now, amongst the fireworks in the sky.

Aerith only hesitated for one more moment. In one swift motion, she closed the rest of the distance between them and took his arm in her hands, leaning her head on his shoulder. She felt him stiffen in surprise under her touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“Aerith?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Just for tonight,” she said. “Okay?”

Cloud didn’t reply, but neither did he relax. Then, just as Aerith was about to let him go, he slowly moved. Delicately, he took one of her hands from his arm.

Aerith frowned a little, but sat up straighter. That was fair. She couldn’t keep expecting him to humour all her mixed signals—to be okay with her constantly pushing him away while she held him tight. She opened her mouth, an apology ready on her tongue, but Cloud laid her hand down, palm up, between them. A fraction of a second, and his own covered it, threading his fingers through hers.

She gasped quietly and looked up at him. He was still turned away from her, but when he felt her eyes on him, he shot her a sidelong glance. Red dusted his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, but his eyes were focused, daring, challenging. And they were an open book.

Not just for tonight. It takes two, right? I ’m in if you are.

Aerith couldn’t help but smile up at him a little shakily, feeling as if her heart was going to jump out of her chest. She looked at her bodyguard, at her friend, at the man she loved. There he went, fighting for her again, and again. It took her everything she had not to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him silly, to apologise for everything she’d put the both of them through. But in that moment, just being there with him, holding his hand, would have to be enough. As she closed her own fingers around his, Cloud finally relaxed next to her, and gave her hand a light squeeze. Aerith let her head fall against his shoulder again and closed her eyes.

“Just for tonight,” she repeated softly.

This close, she could feel Cloud’s sigh hit the crown of her head, a veneer of calm betrayed by the pounding of his heart, impossible to miss from where she was leaning against him. Aerith wondered if he was looking at her, but didn’t check. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if she met his eyes and found love and longing there.

She settled for looking at the fireworks again, holding his hand just a little bit tighter.

Five minutes later, as they stepped out of the cabin, Cloud extended a hand to help Aerith down. She took it with a small giggle, and ignored the way he held onto her for just a moment too long with practised cheerfulness.

“Thanks for tonight,” she said, locking her hands behind her back. “I had fun.”

Cloud hummed. “Me too.”

She glanced at the dwindling crowd in the square in front of them. “Ready for tomorrow?”

“Course. You?”

“Born ready!” She flexed playfully, drawing a chuckle out of him. “We should go get some shut-eye. Gotta be in tip-top shape to kick Corneo’s goons’ butts.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

Cloud went ahead, and Aerith followed him after just a moment. He seemed a little distracted, as if he had something else on his mind. She shook her head. Probably thinking about their strategy for the battle the next day. She supposed the real anomaly was Cloud thinking about something other than their mission for a whole evening.

The walk back to the Haunted Hotel was a silent one, but not uncomfortably so. There was no hurry in their step, as if neither of them quite wanted the night to end. That late, the park wasn’t as busy or loud. It felt more normal, more like a real place with real people rather than an endless party. Aerith kept glancing at Cloud, feeling a small smile playing on her lips.

One night, one perfect night with him. It would have to be enough. It would be enough. No harm in wanting to draw it out as long as she could.

But there was still a limit to how much she could dig her heels in, to how slowly they could walk. In the end, they stepped out of the lift and onto their floor.

Aerith sighed, hopping ahead of Cloud. “Well—”

“I’ll walk you to your room,” he said, coming up beside her.

She shot him a bemused smile. “Isn’t it, like… ten metres away from yours?”

Cloud cleared his throat, looking away with a faint blush on his face. “Still.”

Aerith giggled. “Alright, then, Mr Bodyguard.” She took his elbow. “Do the gentlemanly thing.”

To her absolute delight, he actually held up his arm a little higher as he gently tugged her forward. As promised, they walked right past the boys’ suite, and stopped just two doors over. Aerith let go of Cloud’s arm to rummage in her pockets for the room key. She didn’t want to wake Tifa and Yuffie up.

As she finally fished it out, she turned with a grin. “Looks like we’re here,” she said. “Thanks for the escort.”

Cloud nodded slowly. He was still blushing and refusing to meet her eye. Aerith cocked her head to the side. “What is it?” she said, leaning forward to try to catch his gaze.

“Uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I—If this really has to be just for tonight… There’s something I wanna do before tonight ends,” he said quickly, snapping his eyes back to hers.

Aerith blinked twice at him. “Oh?” she said.

He didn’t say anything right away. He gingerly took a step forward and took her hand in his, while his other hand hesitantly rose to brush over her cheek. Every move was slow and deliberate, like he was giving her the time and space to stop him or step away. But Aerith was rooted to the spot, frozen by his touch and what he was asking. She felt her eyes go wide, and she knew she had to say something. But when her mouth fell open, no words came out.

A little bolder and surer of himself, Cloud tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture so tender and gentle that Aerith felt a bit like bursting into tears. He pressed his lips together and swallowed thickly. “Can—Can I…?”

A stronger person might have said no. A stronger person might never had let them get to this point at all. But all Aerith could do was nod.

A flash of disbelief passed over his face, as if he’d still expected her to say no. Then he furrowed his brows and leaned closer to her until their lips were a breath apart—hesitant until the very last second, like she was going to break or disappear.

“Cloud?” she whispered.

He blinked and shook his head a little, as if coming out of a trance. Then, all at once, the hand on her cheek slid to the back of her head as he nudged her towards him to finally close the hint of distance between them.

Cloud’s kiss was just like him: gentle, nervous, but determined and a bit rough. Aerith felt her room key slip from her hand as she wrapped both her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back. Cloud’s other hand, the one not cradling the back of her head, went to her waist, pulling her even closer.

Aerith knew full well that this was a huge mistake, that she was throwing all her efforts to protect him down the drain. She supposed they would be in good company with her self-control. Because, damnit, she’d wanted to kiss Cloud for so long, and now that she was doing it she wasn’t sure she’d ever stop.

He broke away for a moment, but didn’t go far. “Aerith,” he murmured on her lips. “I—”

“Shh.” She closed the gap again. He seemed to have no objections to that, because his grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her even closer.

Cloud kissed her like he wanted to tell her something. It’s real, Aerith, it’s real, please, don’t let it be just for tonight, I’m tired of games and secrets, I love you, I love you, I love you.

And Aerith kissed him like she wanted to answer. It’s real for me too, I don’t want this to be just for tonight either, I’d lost our stupid game before we even started playing it, I love you, I love you, I love you.

She could feel the pounding of his heart almost as if it was coming from inside her chest, and she wondered if he could feel hers the same way. She smiled over his lips, and he just kissed her harder, while his hand at her waist shifted to rub gentle circles on her back. Aerith pulled him even closer, trying to commit everything about him to memory. His warmth, his taste, his scent, the way his hair felt threaded through her fingers—just him, just Cloud.

Down in the lobby of the Haunted Hotel, the grandfather clock chimed—midnight. And, just like in a fairy tale, it broke the spell.

Aerith froze with her hands tangled in Cloud’s hair as she returned to reality. The reality where they couldn’t be a normal couple sharing a good-night kiss after a date, where they weren’t supposed to be in love at all, where Aerith had to be the one to know better, despite how much it hurt.

Cloud pulled away from her. “Aerith…?” he called, voice a little hoarse. His whole face was flushed crimson, and his pupils were blown wide. His hair was even messier than usual and his mouth was hanging open, huffing a little through kiss-swollen lips. He looked stunning, and she’d done that to him.

Aerith screwed her eyes shut, willing that image to disappear from her brain. “It’s tomorrow,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice even.

She felt him stiffen in her arms. When she looked at him again, it was like something had cracked in his expression. He stared at her like she’d just stabbed him, shock and hurt clear as day. She wished she hadn’t looked. “I’m sorry,” she said, slipping out of his grasp.

Cloud let her, and his arms fell limply to his sides. “Aerith, I—” He pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry,” he muttered then, averting his gaze.

Aerith shook her head. “Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She fought the urge to cup his cheek in her hand, settling instead for a quick pat on his upper arm. “Good-night.”

Quickly, she picked up her room key and unlocked the door. As she slipped through, she looked at him again. He hadn’t moved from his spot, and he still had his eyes fixed on the floor.

Aerith forced a smile. “Hey, chin up,” she said. “Gotta be in tip-top shape tomorrow, right? Better get some rest.”

Cloud blinked twice as he met her gaze again, then frowned. “Right,” he spat out, bitter and hurt. Aerith winced. He seemed to notice, and something in his face softened. “Right,” he repeated, gentler but no less upset. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Good-night, Cloud.”

“Night.”

If she looked into those big, sad eyes of his any longer, she knew she would have jumped right back into his arms, so Aerith quickly shut the door between them. With a sigh, she leaned her head against it and closed her eyes.

She hated herself.

And she hated fate, and the Whispers, and the Aerith of the past who was calling all the shots for the Aerith of the present, and her stupid, stupid feelings pulling her in every direction at once. More than anything, she hated the hurt darkening Cloud’s face, the bitterness in his voice, and she hated that she was the cause of all of it.

She felt like crying, but she didn’t deserve to.

After what felt like an eternity, muffled footsteps came from the other side of the door, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t heard Cloud walking away after she’d closed it. She gulped down a sob at the thought that he might have been standing there that whole time, alone in the hallway, maybe hoping she’d come back.

“I love you,” she whispered, barely loud enough for even her to hear. The words tasted bittersweet on her tongue: sweet, because they were true and beautiful; bitter, because she was saying them to a closed door.

---

Aerith was sure that the owner of the bar was going to kick her out any minute now. She just hoped that her half empty glass of foul bottom shelf… whatever would be enough to convince him that she still counted as a customer, rather than an anxious little thing hiding away at his counter far too late in the night.

No. Half full. Her glass was half full. It had to be, because then everything would be fine at the Temple and they’d get the Black Materia back and they’d all be okay and—

“That any good?” came Cloud’s voice, soft behind her.

She straightened up, then shook her head. “No,” she said, not particularly caring if the owner heard her. She still pushed the glass towards Cloud as he sat down on the stool next to hers. “But you can try it, if you want.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink.”

Aerith shrugged. “Don’t do it often. I don’t like it when my brain’s fuzzy. Usually.” Tonight, I wish it was.

Cloud hummed. “Yeah. Same.”

Neither of them said anything for a long beat. Aerith bit her lip. They hadn’t actually gotten a moment alone since their date at the Gold Saucer. The day after had been… a lot. The Coliseum match, the Turks, Cait Sith’s betrayal, the panic and anxiety of it all. There had been no time to talk, no time to rest. Only once, in the night, had Cloud reached out for her. They’d been riding in the buggy, crossing the desert in their desperate rush to make it to the Temple of the Ancients before it was too late. Aerith had thought that almost everyone was asleep—except for Tifa, at the driver’s wheel, and Cid, operating as her navigator. Aerith couldn’t sleep, though. Thoughts of the Black Materia, of Cait Sith, of the Ancients, of Sephiroth kept running through her mind a mile a minute, and she just couldn’t stop. Until someone shifted next to her, and then suddenly there was a hand in hers, warm and solid. She’d turned to Cloud, blinking slowly. He hadn’t said anything, just brushed his thumb over her knuckles. Then, he’d nodded towards his shoulder—an invitation that Aerith had accepted with a sigh of relief, greedily taking in his warmth as she rested her head on it and closed her eyes again.

There had been no need for words that night. She wasn’t sure it was the same now. It was the calm before the storm—one night in Costa del Sol before they would board the Bronco and sail North. To face whatever was waiting for them there. Suddenly, the silence was suffocating.

“You worried?” she asked, folding her arms on the counter and sneaking him a glance.

Cloud sighed. “We’ll be fine. We’ll get the Black Materia back.”

“We will.” She hummed, leaning her forehead down on her crossed arms. “Still.”

“Still what?”

Aerith drew in a deep breath. “I think I’m more than worried. I’m scared,” she whispered.

She felt his hand land tentatively on her shoulder. “I got you,” he said. “I promised you I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”

“You did.” She turned her head a bit to look at him. His eyes were soft, understanding, but determined and focused. “Thanks. I’ll keep you safe too.”

Cloud cracked a smile. “That’s not how bodyguards work.”

Aerith giggled, straightening up. “It’s how this one works.” She leaned on the counter again, this time on a propped elbow. “He acts real tough and strong, but he still needs his favourite florist to bail him out of trouble every once in a while.”

He playfully rolled his eyes. “As if.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, then gave him a small smile. “I protect you, you protect me. Deal?”

Cloud nodded slowly. “Deal.”

Quiet descended once again. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but it was charged. As if they were both waiting for something.

In the end, Cloud was the one who broke it. “We need to talk,” he said, furrowing his brows seriously.

Aerith gave him a lopsided smile. “We are talking.”

He frowned, but it was almost more of a pout. “Aerith.”

“Yeah. I know.” She sighed. “Sorry.”

Cloud took a deep breath. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, with no progress on his starting sentence. Aerith giggled quietly, and he shot her an unhappy look. “Give me a break.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, still smiling. “Go on.”

He inched his hand forward on the counter until it brushed hers. Without breaking eye contact, he gently entwined their fingers. Aerith stilled a little, but let him.

Letting out a sigh, Cloud stroked circles with his thumb on the back of her hand. “If I ask you a question, will you promise to answer me? And tell me the truth?”

Aerith bit her lip. “Cloud—”

His hold on her hand tightened. “Please,” he whispered. “I need to know.”

She looked into his pleading eyes, and there was nothing she could do but nod.

Cloud broke eye contact, but didn’t let go of her hand. “Our game,” he started. “Still playing?”

Aerith wanted to laugh. They were still speaking in code. She supposed it was easier than the alternative.

Do you love me? Are you still trying not to?

A few days before, she would have tried to find an escape. She’d have teased him and avoided answering. But she was tired. So tired, so sad, so scared, and maybe a little tipsy too.

So, she shook her head. “No. I lost a long time ago.”

Cloud sucked in a sharp breath. “You did?” he asked, so quiet that she almost missed it.

Aerith hummed. “I tried. I’ve been trying. But… I guess I always knew I was going to lose, didn’t I? That’s why I tried to put it on you.”

“Too late,” he blurted out. He grimaced slightly, then cleared his throat. “It was always too late.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

He was blushing to the tip of his ears and refusing to meet her eye. “Yeah. I think the dream was when I knew, but…” He shook his head. “It’s like I told you in Nibelheim. It was inevitable. From the moment I met you, I was always going to—” He cut himself off and finally looked at her again.

Aerith could only stare at him. She’d known he had feelings for her now, but… “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “All this time—”

Cloud scoffed. “After two weeks? After two days? That’s creepy as hell.”

“I suppose,” she said, giggling as she drew closer. “But it would have saved us a lot of headaches.”

He frowned a little. “And you? You could’ve said something earlier.”

“I could’ve.” She dropped her gaze to the ground. “But I told you—I was trying to protect you. Guess I was always doomed to fail there, huh?” She swallowed a knot in her throat. “I’m scared.” Then, she felt his hand on her chin, gently tilting her head up to meet his eyes again.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “And I’ll be here. As long as you want me to.”

Aerith pressed her lips together. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen now. I don’t know what we’ll find at the Temple. I just—”

“We’ll figure it out. Okay?”

She nodded a little shakily. Then, she closed her eyes. “Okay.” His hand slowly shifted so that he was cupping her face. As he gently stroked the skin under her eye, Aerith sighed and leaned into the touch. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” she whispered, covering his hand with hers. “You’re still here, fighting for me, despite everything.”

Cloud chuckled. “I told you before. You’re you and I’m me. You’re worth it. That’s all.”

She smiled. “Inevitable, right?”

“For me it was. But it takes two.”

“Well, it was inevitable for me too,” she replied, stealing a kiss from his palm. “But I just want the record to show that if anything happens, I tried.”

Cloud scoffed. “Noted. But I won’t let it.”

Aerith hummed, studying his face. His eyes were focused, but soft—soft like in the picture, soft like on the Skywheel, like at the water tower, like at the bonfire, like on the beach, like in the dream. She leaned a little closer to him. “Can I kiss you now?”

Cloud stilled for a fraction of a second. Then, instead of replying, he just closed the distance between them. This kiss was nothing like their first: no rush, no nervousness, no uncertainty. Just quiet affection and relief.

“I love you,” murmured Aerith without breaking contact. “I love you.” And, this time, it was all sweet. So sweet.

In response, Cloud let go of her hand to cup her face with both of his and pull her even closer to him. He muttered something against her lips, something she couldn’t quite make out, but it didn’t really matter. She had a good guess.

Cloud was the one to pull away first, this time. His eyes shone with love and relief, and Aerith thought that she wanted to drown in the Mako blue. “I won’t let anything happen,” he repeated, barely above a whisper. “I’m not losing you, no matter what.”

Aerith smiled, tracing his jawline with a delicate finger. “Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

#this is like. obscenely long for tumblr but like yeehaw right #ffviir spoilers #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii rebirth #cloud strife #aerith gainsborough #clerith #my stuff #my writing #my fics #enjoy!

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befuddled-calico-whump · 8 months

Text

Hand in Hand (part one)

A Riot Kings AU: When Melchior is betrayed by his men, Wes tries to help him escape. Before long, both men are captured.

@whumptober No. 6: Made to Watch

cw: torture, burning, death threat

///// next

~ ~ ~

The scream is almost loud enough to blow out the speaker, and it's all Dan can do not to cringe away from it, closing his eyes and covering his ears and pretending it's all a bad dream. Instead, he sits straight-backed in the metal chair, poised like he's attending a meeting in spite of the bruises blooming on his skin, the cuffs locked around his wrists. His face is expressionless, in spite of the man on the screen, bound and shaking.

In spite of being forced to watch the torture of the one person who cared enough to try and save him.

Dan almost flinches at the next scream, as the masked soldier presses the hot iron into Wes's bare chest. There are already a half-dozen similar burns scattered across his ribcage, standing out against pale, sweat-damp skin. Dan tries staring at the dingy wall behind his friend in an effort to avoid looking at his face, avoid seeing the desperation there. But every cry of pain only pulls his eyes back, sharpening the deep ache in his chest.

Swift knows what she's doing. She must've seen the burn scars covering Wes's back, must've known how much this would terrify him. If this is a game, she's already several moves ahead of Dan. His only weapon in this scenario, his only defense against this attack, is indifference.

And it hurts so much to play at indifference. But he knows it will be so much worse for Wes if he doesn't. There's no telling what Swift will do if she learns that this is a weak point.

When he's sure it's been long enough, when he can feel Swift's eyes on him, watching for a reaction, Dan finally speaks.

"Why are you showing me this?" he says, and it takes a considerable amount of effort to flatten his voice, but somehow he manages.

"Oh Mr. Melchior," Swift says in an oversweet voice. "Don't you care for the only man who remains loyal to you?"

"One man is insignificant," Dan replies, staring past the screen. "You've already won, Swift. Answer my question."

She doesn't, a smile playing on her lips as she pushes a button with a gloved hand, leaning forward to speak into the microphone above it. "Kill him."

The words rip through Dan like an electric shock. He can't keep his voice steady as he utters a quiet, "What?"

As the masked man on the screen reaches for his gun, Mercury grins at Dan, not even trying to feign surprise. "What's wrong? Didn't you just say he was insignificant?"

He tries to recover, tries to smear the callous expression back onto his face, but he knows it's too late. "Why waste a bullet on him?"

"Would you rather I have him beaten to death?"

The image is in his head before he can stop it; Wes lying bloody and unmoving on the cold concrete, Wes in agony right up until his last breath. "No."

"So you'll see no issue if--"

"No," Dan says again. On the screen, Wes is looking at the gunman, his executioner, with fearful eyes. His face is streaked with tears, and his mouth is moving with frantic, silent pleas. Like he's begging Dan to save him. Like there's anything Dan can do besides prolong his suffering. The gun is raised, pressed to Wes's forehead, and Dan flinches with him.

"Please don't hurt him." The words spill out, the facade fully broken. "Please. Just tell me what you want."

To his relief, she hits the button again. "Stop. Our guest has reconsidered." The man holsters the gun, and Dan wonders if it's even loaded, or if it's just another part of her game. Either way, Swift has accomplished her goal.

"There's a good man," she says, pulling at the edge of a glove. "I knew you were soft."

"What do you want?" he tries again through gritted teeth, but Swift only laughs.

"Patience, Mr. Melchior. We'll discuss terms once you've become more familiar with the stakes."

The stakes? She's already made those abundantly clear. Do her bidding, or Wes gets hurt. But what is her bidding?

When Swift speaks again, it's not Dan she's addressing, but the guards flanking the door. His own men, or at least they had been until last night.

"Put him in the cell," she orders. "We'll continue this conversation in the morning."

#whumptober2023 #no.6 #made to watch #oc #fic #torture tw #burning tw #death threat tw #wesgoesbrr #angst #forced to watch #riotkingsau #here's the next miniseries then #whump #i was iffy about this because getting in Mel's head? hard #especially because i get the easy way out by seeing actions and words in a comic #not tagging the comic crowd but i can make a separate tagging list for this! not sure how long it'll get

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hxhhasmysoul · 6 months

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How Mother of the Year Made their Favourite Child. A kinda serious theory about Yuuji's soul.

(Or at least the one they seem to favour over the other kids of theirs that we know of. I wrote a less refined version of this here, then put a version of this on reddit. Now I’m bringing this back, refined a little, because Yuuji’s soul has become a more overt topic in the manga, though not explained yet.)

Kenjaku used the disaster human curse before Mahito to make Yuuji. This is meant as food for thought, of course, and it might be a completely crack theory but I hope it is at least a fun speculation. It’s also a theory I created as a way to explain Yuuji’s powers without attributing them all to Sukuna in any capacity. There are a lot of theories about siblings or other blood connections, or reincarnations. While I don’t consider them baseless, I just can’t fully appreciate them because they are usually used to devalue Yuuji as a character or even reduce him completely to Sukuna’s proxy. And a connection with Sukuna wouldn’t even disprove this crack theory, they could coexist because Working Single Mother of the Year is capable of a lot for their plans.

Part 1 - Yuuji's soul seems to be the strongest one of all the characters.

In an interview Gege confirms that Sukuna looking like Yuuji is due to the fact that he's incarnated into him.

Q: Why does Sukuna look like Itadori, even inside his own domain? A: Since he has incarnated, Sukuna's current form is the same as Itadori's.

(From Jump GIGA 2019 Kyoto Exchange Event Character Book — ジャンプGIGA 2019 京都交流会編キャラブック)

And in the fanbook Gege also says that Yuuji could even absorb a cursed object as powerful as a Death Painting.

Q: What happens if Itadori, who is resistant to curses, eats a Death Painting Womb? A: Either the Death Painting Womb will become something like Sukuna’s current state, or the Death Painting Womb itself will disappear and become cursed energy within Itadori. If Itadori ingests it after he is already a host for Sukuna, the Death Painting Womb will just be obliterated by Sukuna.

Combining it with the fact that Yuuji can contain Sukuna and even when Sukuna takes over it's always a matter of time before Yuuji will push him back again. To me this means Yuuji's soul is even stronger than Sukuna's and we know that Sukuna's soul is stronger than Mahito's. For one Yuuji can damage Mahito's soul even though he's not nearly as experienced, powerful or knowledgeable as Sukuna. Secondly I even think that Mahito couldn't touch Yuuji's soul the way he can touch Sukuna’s. On his first attempt he likely tried to touch Sukuna's soul and pull it to the forefront and Sukuna didn't like that and issued a warning. But the two following times Mahito wouldn't have wanted to touch Sukuna's soul. So why not go for Yuuji's soul instead, avoid Sukuna's altogether. I think he can't even though he knows that there are two souls in that body. He managed to do small damage to Yuuji’s soul visible on Yuuji’s face but it doesn’t seem like he could just touch Yuuji, like he touches others, and transform him.

Having a strong soul like this could explain Yuuji's innate physical prowess as well as his curse and maybe even his poison resistance - because he seems to have been resistant to poison before he ate the first finger - Megumi refers to the finger as lethal poison in chapter one.

If Kenjaku made Yuuji using the previous human disaster curse, Yuuji’s soul would by default be exceptional. If that curse was fully evolved it would’ve been stronger than Mahito who was still in the process of discovering himself and his powers.

The fight with Sukuna, after he moved to Megumi, gave me flashbacks to Yuuji’s fight with the finger bearer in the corrections facility, or Toudou during the exchange event and the 2nd and last fight with Mahito. In these fights Yuuji gets humbled, beaten down after taking head on a lot of brutality and then he gets up stronger. It feels like his soul is readjusting to the threat level. Mahito does this constantly, he fights and consciously analyses himself and draws inspiration from the challenges. In Shibuya he makes himself harder to counter Yuuji’s fighting style.

Mahito knows what he is so he can do this consciously. Yuuji has no idea what he is so his soul does it instinctively when it needs to. And I don’t think even knowing what he is, Yuuji would have the same level of control and reshaping abilities as Mahito. Yuuji is partially human, he’s constrained by biology to some extent. Sukuna mentions that for humans healing themselves is harder and I suspect it’s due to the biological component. Curses being made of cursed energy aren’t constrained by that. That being said, I think that if Kenjaku explained to Yuuji how they made him, and Yuuji was given time to practise, he’d get much better at healing himself and also he’d be able to get stronger, faster or more agile than he is already. And that’s what Yuuji seems to have done with the knowledge from Yuki, and possibly his training with Kusakabe.

And wouldn’t Yuuji’s ability to switch bodies be a neat twist on Mahito’s powers? Yuuji’s personal spin on it, and maybe a little on Kenjaku’s cursed technique?

So as I wrote out above, I think Yuuji's soul would be extremely strong from the start if he was partially made from the human disaster curse but before Sukuna's finger it was a dormant characteristic, it gave him a superior body but didn't actively do anything apart from that. I also think that ingesting Sukuna's finger was the final catalyst or maybe a way to awaken that part of him. Having Sukuna inside created the need in him to actively shape his soul to withstand Sukuna's push, plus it triggered his cursed energy production.

Part 2 - Mahito's obsession with Yuuji.

Mahito is said to be a kid and why would a curse of humanity’s fear and hatred for one another be so young? The other disaster curses are ancient and so should Mahito be because people have feared and hated each other also since forever.

When Sukuna kills Jougo in chapter 116 the latter clearly says that all of the disaster curses will be reborn in a new form. Which makes sense because the fear of nature will remain in humans and it will turn into cursed energy.

So there should’ve been a previous human curse similar to Mahito but not the same. And for some reason they died fairly recently. On the other hand it’s not likely the sorcerers killed them because they didn’t seem to have knowledge of the disaster curses until the curses chose to engage with the sorcerers.

There’s also a line in chapter 131, that Mahito says to Yuuji. One of its translations goes like this: "Once I kill you, then I will truly be born". Which seems a fair interpretation, though Mahito literally says something more close to: "Once I kill you, I will be born in this world for the first time". Why would Mahito's birth hinge on Yuuji’s death? Is Mahito just being dramatic here? He could be, he’s been obsessed with killing Yuuji since they met. But maybe it means that the previous human curse’s power lingers within Yuuji and Mahito needs it to die to feel like he's truly truly born into his role.

Maybe the line: “you are me” from chapter 121 is literal. It is a part of a longer monologue in which Mahito describes Yuuji as his reverse. But he says "you are me", not "you're my reverse" or "you're my mirror". Which again might be just for dramatic effect.

(Editted the paragraph below and added the screenshot courtesy of @/cursedvibes. He is always super kind to catch when I mess up. I also explained Mahito's line better because Cursedvibes also gave me a better translation idea for an element of it.)

There’s also this Mahito line from chapter 133. The translation is: "I knew that after all I was born of humans". But the word "humans" has a reading "omaera" which is not how the characters would be normally read. Gege does this a lot, adds extra meaning by adding furigana that's read differently. "Omaera" means something like "you guys" and likely refers to Kenjaku and Yuuji. And it feels like such a strange response to Kenjaku’s: "Even I’m impressed, Sukuna’s vessel is tough". Is it a response to those words? Or is it to Kenjaku’s actions? It looks like Mahito is trying to touch and probably transfigure Kenny and Kenny avoids (with the help of Antigravity?) or just starts the Cursed Spirit Manipulation technique. So maybe Mahito’s response is to the fact that Kenjaku is betraying him and it is meant to mean that Mahito knew that Kenny would be duplicitous because Mahito understands humans due to being born of them. But if it’s the response to the words then he might again be implying a connection between him and Yuuji, that him and Yuuji were born of the same thing.

(Also Cursedvibes leans towards Mahito referring to the betrayal and his interpretations are usually very good.)

Part 3 - Why Kaori?

If Kenjaku used the previous human curse to make Yuuji, this could explain why they wanted Kaori’s power because it would've helped them safely contain that specific curse.

In humans the cursed techniques can be hereditary or can emerge spontaneously. But it is said that every user puts their own spin on their ct and that includes the hereditary ones - like when Megumi says that his domain expansion is his interpretation of the Ten Shadow Technique. Maybe for something as significant and powerful as a disaster curse the ct is also “hereditary” in the sense that every incarnation has the same basis and just does slightly different things with it.

So if the previous human curse could also manipulate souls or affect them significantly, Kaori’s technique would’ve allowed Kenjaku not to be touched by that curse thus win a fight with it and contain it and use it as they pleased. This would also be a good reason to keep Kaori’s technique even after switching bodies because Kenjaku probably anticipated they’d be dealing with the human curse again in its new incarnation.

Part 4 - Yuuji's personality and name.

This part is not that much about providing more grounds for this theory but about asking questions that arise from this theory. If Yuuji was created with the use of the human curse that represents human fear and hatred towards one another, why is he so compassionate and human oriented? His name can be even translated as something like "endless humanity” or “endless compassion”. The first kanji has more meanings, it can mean "boundless", "calm" or "quiet" etc. The second one can be both read as "humanity" and as "compassion" but it can actually also mean simply "human". And Mahito's name also includes a character that means "human".

The "human" translation could indicate that he, like Mahito, is the mirror of humanity (Jougo calls Mahito that in chapter 116). But unlike Mahito who puts a mirror to humanity through death, Yuuji would be the mirror through life, through how imperfect and thus painfully human he is - I'm referring to his conversation with Higuruma here, but also to how Nanami treated him, or to how Nobara and Megumi talked about him.

Mahito's DE is called Embodiment of Perfection, as if he perfected the human form and maybe what it means to be human even. The disaster curses consider themselves true humans. Yuuji could be a juxtaposition to that with his weakness, his fallibility but also how he's not concentrated solely on himself and his own development like Mahito seems to be at times, Yuuji is oriented towards those around and he shows them a lot of sympathy, empathy and compassion.

Who named him like that, Kenjaku or Jin? Is his personality by design like this? Is it a planned part of Kenjaku's experiment? Kenjaku is said to be related to/representing bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara/Kannon who's the embodiment of compassion. Maybe they wanted to channel that through Yuuji?

Maybe it's Jin's genes that made Yuuji more human and have the same mindset towards humans that the disaster curses have towards curses. Or is it a byproduct of the experiment, a little happy accident of science?

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itadori yuuji #mahito #kenjaku #jjk theory #my ramblings #i need answers so badly

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monstersdownthepath · 3 months

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Monster Spotlight: Korred

CR 4

Chaotic Neutral Small Fey

Bestiary 2, pg. 173

These small, hairy men make their homes in stony forests at the base of mountains, along riverbanks, or other locations where topsoil gives way to a nice layer of rocks, enjoying little more than the feel of stone beneath their feet. They have an affinity for stones, spending most of their free days cavorting among stone circles in forest glades, playing music to entertain both themselves and whatever other Fey and beasts may be listening, and even when NOT playing they still use rocks in their day-to-day. They can use Stone Tell 1/day to keep up with the hottest rock gossip, and have Rock Throwing, capable of hucking good-sized projectiles with 100ft range increments and dealing 1d6+4 damage to anything they hit, typically taking out whatever animal they're hunting in a single shot.

Korred make their homes inside sizable rocks or cliff-faces, using their at-will Stone Shape to carve out homes without needing the tools to do so and sealing it up after them to make it nearly impossible to find (or steal from) their homes unless they will it. Though their lore block makes no mention of it, one can assume that their homes are filled with all sorts of knickknacks made of available minerals, as they have a sizable Craft (Sculptures) bonus which means they likely have passion projects laying around waiting to be finished and either put up as decorations or gifted/traded out to other Fey. And only other Fey.

Unlike most happy forest fairies, Korred are every bit the cantankerous old hick they appear to be. They have a powerful fear response to outsiders discovering them (not attacking or invading, merely discovering), and unfortunately for everyone involved, their default fear state is "fight" instead of "flight." Unfamiliar intruders are pelted with stones from a distance to drive them out, and if the intruder draws closer, they find out how much muscle is packed into these stout frames as they're clubbed for 1d4+6 damage.

If that doesn't seem like a lot of damage, that's because it's not. The important part is that you're not going to be doing damage back to them, with their least formidable defenses being their DR 5/Cold iron and 15 points of Spell Resistance. Korred hair grows at a supernatural pace, meaning these guys have to keep themselves constantly trimmed so their beard doesn't overwhelm them, and all that excess hair doesn't get thrown away, it's woven into ropes. Korred keep coils of their beard-ropes on hand for the thousand moments one may need rope, such as to create furniture or construct traps, but it also takes advantage of the fact they can use Animate Rope at will, hurling the coils at their enemies and having them twine around and entangle them, leaving them more vulnerable to being beaten to unconsciousness (if the Korred leans towards Good) or death (if it doesn't) if they can't untangle themselves enough to fight back.

This isn't to say their beard is any less of a threat when it's still on their face, though. So used to controlling their hair from a distance with magic, they can do so automatically and without effort while it's still attached, using their Animated Hair as a free action to entangle any number of creatures adjacent to them if those creatures fail a DC 16 Reflex save. Once tangled up, it becomes harder for the unfortunate creature to fight back against the little men and much harder to defend themselves, letting a Korrid lay into them with even less fear of reprisal.

All this still isn't enough for these mountain men; between hurling rocks and living ropes from a distance and being walking tarpits up close, you'd think the Korred would have all its bases covered already, but there's more! Their laughter is a powerful force all its own and possesses a legendary volume, Korred capable of barking out two different types of enloudened laughter whenever they need to disarm and confound enemies: The first is embodied by their ability to use Shatter at-will, indiscriminately breaking a whole host of fragile objects or targeting one item that weighs less than 60lbs and sundering it, rendering it broken with one cast and destroying it completely with a second. As most non-metal armors and every weapon sized for a Medium creature falls firmly within that weight limit, a Korred can easily sunder any cold iron weapon brought against them or shear a chunk of AC from their foes with a single, loud guffaw, and no one likes losing their gear, especially not to funny little men. It's practically as demoralizing as being killed! ... of course, a single casting of Magic Weapon, a level 1 spell available to almost every caster class, renders a weapon immune to Shatter.

The second laugh is much more devastating, so much so that it can only be used three times a day. This Stunning Laugh hits every non-Fey creature in a 30ft burst, forcing a DC 14 Fortitude save versus being stunned for 1d2 rounds. Being stunned causes you to drop whatever you're holding, and a smart Korred will note that a dropped item counts as unattended, so Shatter becomes much more likely to succeed against them. A full 2 round stun gives the hairy fairy an opportunity to destroy the biggest, scariest weapon or the sturdiest armor it can see... or the opportunity to just club someone into a paste. Depends on how tactical it's being, or if it's got some fairy friends nearby to help pile on the intruder. Or it can just use its animated ropes to snag and drag equipment away.

Reducing a Korred's HP enough to demoralize it will likely have it pulling out its last and most irritating trick: Stone Stride, an ability that allows them to enter any stone or boulder large enough to contain their body, then step out of another one within 30ft as a full-round action. In a vacuum, an ability of little note. In their natural environment? Incredibly annoying, giving them the power to make a swift retreat or re-engage an enemy that believes they got away. Fighting them inside the stone rings they consider sacred becomes an exercise in frustration as they step into a nearby stone and then out of a different one that's right behind the party caster, who swiftly becomes engulfed by the Fey's Animated Hair as a prelude to being beaten to death with their heavy wood clubs.

On the plus side, defeating a Korred earns you a new 50ft coil of rope and some cool figurines! All worth it in the end, right?

You can read more about them here.

#Monster Spotlight #CR 1 to 5 #pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

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tinynightmarewoman · 3 days

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Mine and my brothers favourite thing about TDPA, and by extension any SMG story games, is you can always identify three specific types of characters we've lovingly named 'The Wet Rat', 'The HUH?!', and 'The Punching Bag'! There is always at least one character that fits in to one or two or maybe all three of these types!

Punching bag is pretty self explanatory, its the character that SMG decided really needed to get bullied and beaten, absolutely pounded, trounced, belittled! Battered and Fried with salt and vinegar in a roll of newspaper and whether or not that character fights back or takes it like champ... varies greatly. Every other QTE leaves them with a fresh bruise, gaping wound of broken bone, easy to wound yet doesn't die very easily. Plot armour is strong but blunt force trauma is stronger.

The HUH?! character is exactly what you think, the one character that just has... nothing between there ears... You can look in their eyes and see the back of their empty skull! The world is fresh and new and they are baffled by existence itself, a true marvel of humanities ability to just be the dumbest thing that exists. Somehow live for either a very long time or is dead before the big bad shows up, never an in-between.

My personal favourite is The Wet Rat, just the character you look at and go "... damn...". Just the biggest, soggiest and most pathetic rat you find digging in the bins. Its doing its best but its just... so soppy, so stunted and you can't help but love them or wish to put them outta their misery... yet sometimes they do a 180 and are the scariest fucking things to walk this earth and are a threat to anything in a 10 mile radius... truly chaotic 10/10

#dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures anthology little hope #the dark pictures anthology man of medan #the dark pictures anthology the devil in me #the dark pictures anthology house of ashes

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kharmii · 3 months

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I wrote this as a reply to a post, but maybe it should get added to the tags so anybody getting into the ship has a place to look up origins all in one place for context. There are too many people with 'Queen Bee Syndrome' going around pissing in people's cheerios telling them what they can and can't ship. It isn't as bad as they say, yo. It was supposed to be humorous! Anyway....

I've been seeing so much Catholic guilt on Twitter these days where people be like, "I can't believe I used to like Trainwreck! It makes me want to vomit! Why would I think it was sexy to see a guy beating up another guy!" It's either pretentious virtue signaling, or it's coming from scared young girls being brow-beaten by the threat of cancel culture into having to prove how good and perfect they are in fandom. Get over yourselves and check out my collection of vintage Trainwreckshipping posts that (facetiously) explain the context of why violence was funny.

Emmet goes to fight God but Arceus hides behind a pillar and points to Volo.

Manipulative Volo laughs about what he did but...oh no! Here comes the pissed off brother!!

Princess bride meme rough handling of Volo.

Emmet chokes Volo.

TAKE THAT YOU VILE FIEND!! (Emmet punches Volo meme)

Emmet chases Volo riding on Arceus.

Emmet chokes Volo but ends up with a knife pressing into his gut.

Volo plays a mean prank to mess with the twins.

Sexual tension with a knife part 1.

Sexual tension with a knife part 2.

Sexual tension with a knife part 3.

Volo so smug and manipulative; Emmet so crazy.

Death threat.

Emmet bloodies Volo's nose.

Where Volo is actually evil and bad ends Emmet.

Emmet coming to whoop some ass.

Giratina possessed Emmet threatens to assault Volo.

Emmet goes after Volo with a brick.

Brave soul who is still doing toxic trainwreck in modern times.

Oops (It never gets old).

Me taking the piss part 1.

Me taking the piss part 2.

If I missed any, please pm me and I'll add them (and I'll keep adding to this post as I finds 'em).

This might be an unpopular opinion, but if someone gives you a hard time for being into this ship, you could always reply along the lines of, "Fuck you, pretentious, virtue-signaling twat. I don't owe you or anybody else anything. Nobody should be judging a person's morality based on what silly thing they ship" It might not get you any friends now, but I'm holding out hope we one day get past cancel culture. Currently, we give too much power to seasoned bullies who use the current political environment as a way to get around the social stigma of anti-bullying campaigns.

#context #classic trainwreck #submas #subway bosses #emmet #volo #trainwreckshipping #collection #the classics #fandumb fail #srsly tho #stop it #queen bee syndrome #fuck off #ingo #arceus #pokemon: legends arceus #toxic culture #ask me about my million stupid bj aus

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welcome-to-green-hills · 4 months

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i was honestly expecting the plot of season 3 would be that Nine used Shadow as his bargaining chip to get Sonic to give up his prism energy. Genuinely, I thought that's what was going to happen after the ominous shot of all the robots looking down the ravine he fell into. I thought they were going down to grab him and bring him back to Nine so that Nine could tell Sonic "Either you give me your energy willingly, or I destroy the only part of Green Hill you have left." He still could have used the giant hologram thing, even. Giant Nine hologram threatens Sonic and when Sonic is confused at first, because he just saw Green Hill blow up, Nine pulls Shadow into frame and his hologram is visible. Shadow is struggling, maybe he's visibly beaten up, maybe Nine shows Shadow getting punched by the robots. Just to really show Sonic that he MEANS this threat. It makes sense for the story. Sonic would have had to convince all of the variant versions from each Shatterspace to help him save Shadow. A hedgehog that none of them have ever met. That could have been part of the struggle. Sonic seeming like he's being selfish again, but having a genuine reason to be. The whole season he was learning not to be selfish and think things through- having a moment where he really has to fight his emotions again would have been great! The others helping explain to Sonic that he can't just go charging in to save Shadow. They need a real plan in order to outsmart Nine. Shadow had been Sonic's voice of reason through the entire freaking show - losing that person would have been so interesting!! Seeing how Sonic reacts when his rock has been snatched out from under him. LIKE - it would have been a great storyline!

This is the ending that we fucking needed… this is something that I will always, always be salty about.

#If someone writes a fanfic about this please let me know. I need it #Sonic Prime #sonic prime season 3 #sonic prime spoilers #mystery anon #off topic

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cock-holliday · 7 months

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Crazy that we can't send asks from side blogs still in the year of our Tumblr 2023, but re: your tags on my ask: YEAH YOU GET IT.

There's a distinct difference between acting in self defense/needing to protect oneself and others in the face of active violence being inflicted against you and just general revolutionary leftist bloodlust. Like, speaking as someone who both had his feet on the ground and was an at home lifeline for folks on the ground in 2020, I'm explicitly talking about how non-violence and deradicalization efforts should come before the latter, not necessarily the former (imo)

- ftmtftm

So my response went on for ten thousand years so I’m putting it below a readmore under the title of My Thesis on Violence:

Mm speaking from my own experience in 2020 and a good long while before, I think non-violence and violence depend on one another and all these concepts are super subjective. Non-violence doesn’t really work without the looming possibility of violence. Violence without restraint or consideration is dangerous to more than just your enemy.

Ultimately, I think we may differ a bit on what we consider justified or useful violence, and I get the sense I am a good bit more pro-violence than you. I do not think that necessarily makes for a bad combination, as I imagine there is quite a spectrum of opinion on what is “defense,” what is “justified,” and I think “deserves” is a horrible metric to measure anything against.

I am wholeheartedly, one hundred and ten percent against the death penalty. That doesn’t mean I don’t think killing is justified. I think in some cases, too much action is reactive and not pro-active, but then less people are inclined to find that action to be “defensive” or “justified.”

I think many people would agree, even the nonviolent, that if a white supremacist started shooting into a crowd and someone shot back, that shooting was “self-defense.” Would as many find it self-defense if a leftist tracked down a nazi and killed him in his home?

Freddie Oversteegen was a dutch resistance fighter during WW2. There are lots of heroic stories of people hiding Jews, destroying documents, smuggling supplies and people, and blowing up infrastructure. Freddie and her sister? They would flirt with nazis and lead them into the woods for the prospect of sex and then murder them. They also would ride their bicycles past isolated soldiers on the road and kill them. Are these murders defensive, yes or no? Either way, are they justified?

In Germany, an anarchist and her cohorts have been put on trial for having tracked down and beaten neo-nazis. In Germany, France, Greece, England, Scotland, and countless other countries, entire gangs circulated around football/soccer track down and offer nazi ass-beatings. I have found in my experience that the threat of death or an ass beating also pushes nazis out of the circles and away from their groups. Or makes them think twice about their activities.

One good punch to the face pushed Richard Spencer into obscurity, and he became a joke in right wing circles. In groups that circle around domination and superiority, being made to look weak to your peers is a fast-track to ousting.

I have been able to enjoy being as safe from nazis as I have been because when WW2 ended, antifash skinheads, gangs, anarchists, communists, groups like The Red Warriors, and random guys with baseball bats fought them in the streets and in their homes and made them regret hosting meetings. Their history is erased, yet I benefit from it.

The thing is, the only way someone stops being a nazi is de-radicalization or death. I am of the opinion that anyone who wants to renounce their ways and change their path should get the chance. I don’t think it’s a matter of deserving. I don’t think deserving matters, because who I think deserves what will differ from any fellow member of the struggle. I think chances should be given as frequently as possible. Because in my view, it should not be a question between doing nothing or de-radicalizing the nazi. The options are de-radicalize or kill them.

The same, essentially, can be said of cops. A cop would argue anyone who shoots at them is the aggressor and anything the cop does back is defense. I disagree. The cop’s position is already one of attack by his mere existence. A squad car of cops getting blown up will never incur my condemnation nor sympathy. And any cop who wants to quit and renounce his ways should be given the chance.

If a cop was dying in front of me and I alone could save him, I would do absolutely nothing to help. But I also would not fault a medic for rushing to save them either. I don’t find it a weakness, I find it a mercy I was unwilling to dole out.

Nonviolence and de-radicalization have to be acts of mercy not pitiful pleas. The state does not fear non-violence, and they will use it as justification for their own violence just as quick as actual violence, as I and countless others bear the scars to prove. Injustice is violence. Hell, the state itself is violence but that’s a whole other conversation.

Nonviolent marches are good for 3 things: garnering public sympathy, getting a gauge of numbers and showing strength with numbers, connecting people to groups after the event. That’s it.

Non-violence on its own does not change the minds of politicians. Or at least not enough to matter. The passing of legislature, the changing of laws, the shift in social conditions comes from viewing non-violence as the option that keeps those in power safe from violence.

The biggest piece of law regarding labor law in the United States was not passed because of polite bargaining, it was because tycoons and their families were being killed and factories were getting blown up, so sure, we can concede to the petitioners, it is safer.

I do not come from the region of the Coal Wars, from the state with the Homestead Strikes, from a family that escaped slaughter in Europe to think that violence does not have a central place in my politics and my privileges.

It is fitting to have this conversation right now, because the founder of the March of Return, a peaceful demonstration by Palestinians in 2018 where thousands upon thousands of unarmed civilians marched up to the border wall and were massacred by the IOF, has had his family targeted and killed, and now is fighting to stay alive after being bombed.

I think a lot of condemnation of violence is completely needless. I think a lot of what is seen as fetishizing the Revolution is a spark igniting in the fighting spirit of people. Now, my actual issues of fetishizing the Revolution comes from three places: 1. being so in love with the idea of a TV Revolution that you sit and wait for that moment to happen instead of participating. 2. Violence as a cover for domination. 3. Delighting in the idea of becoming the head of the state rather than dismantling it.

The first is pretty self-explanatory. For the second, there are plenty of leftists, often tankies, flexing their antisemitism real hard and pretending it’s liberatory. I cannot express how disappointing it was to be told that everything was just leftist infighting and there was no reason to be concerned about tankies vs anarkiddies, it’s all useless…only to watch groups of leftists cheer on Russian aggression or pretend it was to cleanse Ukraine of nazis. Or watch Nazbols become emboldened by the conflict and invasion. Or deal with the consequences of leftists who will wield the cops against others. For #3, pieces like Against the Logic of the Guillotine sum up how terrifying it is for many groups of leftists to be delighted in the prospect of deciding who gets the guillotine or the wall or the gulag—concepts that will only lead to greater abuse and oppression.

I am against all carceral violence, punitive violence, state violence. The concept of a body sitting down in little suits and calmly carrying out a death sentence on anyone is infinitely more violent to me than blowing up a nazi’s house. Frankly, an eviction where the tenant is calmly lead away from their home is as violent to me as the tenant shooting back at the cops coming to take them away. I do not ever want to replicate the magnitude of calculated violence that a state can produce, nor do I want to be an arbiter for it.

All in all I think violence has a central place in resistence movements of any scale and I think it is too hairy to decide what all is justified, and even in the face of unjustified actions by some I can’t say that I’d condemn a movement for it, even while challenging members of that movement.

I think nonviolence has to be a hand you are extending not because you fear violence as an option but because you don’t.

Not everyone has to be comfortable with violence themselves, but should not needlessly impede violence that is justified or defensive or however you like to frame it. When nazis are on a stage emboldening violence, I think it is not only excusable but required for violence to be an answer. They should be dragged off the stage and get their ass beat. Chants do not make them rethink their stance. Hand-painted signs do not. Violence also may not, but they’ll think twice before showing up again.

I do also sometimes have to laugh at the hypocrisy of those that consider themselves nonviolent who wield a type of violence against the violent you disagree with. In crowds combatting nazis, ‘leaders’ have tried to hand over ‘outside agitators’ to the cops. This is violence. In my opinion, it is much more violent than what was going to happen to that nazi.

On the flip side, many instances of nonviolence are necessary extensions of redemption, and also shouldn’t be impeded or framed as weakness. The very same nazis whose assbeatings I advocate for should absolutely be welcome to utilize de-radicalization resources. No one owes them anything, but they should not be turned away from trying. Again and again and again the offer should stand that they can change their mind and end it peacefully. Can change their ways and stop this. Can be a champion of the people they have hurt.

Because if they don’t, I will not spare a shred of sympathy if someone kills them.

Some pieces on this stance I really like:

This Nonviolent Stuff’ll Get You Killed pdf

Learning from Ferguson

#ask #ftmtfm #violence thesis

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