#not done w the most recent event part but he is simply so good i love him so much dearest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ptergwen · 3 years

Text

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #marvel

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argylemikewheeler · 3 years

Text

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he wished some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift. Fucking off and being a better piece of shit son just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So don’t call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was sure his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um, puzzles to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we can’t . So, that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is more than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially his familiar and happy face. ��Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green dash barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded cool in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like everyone was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I have to show you all my inventions! Camp was the best four weeks of my life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa! Girlfriend ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just Steve that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s super smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I just saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the Chief now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not... looking at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car could speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was upset that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.” Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since no one else in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright-- Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they weren’t dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected: his sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike-- just Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he really was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly: do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re never early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t have to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy. Doctor doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t too comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just was . Rather than being cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in: In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole… thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything to forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but instead seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to obscure the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well are you seeing someone, Jonathan? -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will needed to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little understanding between best friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too everything to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the disgusting amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress. Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No-- no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s nothing . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even see us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I meant what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I meant because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

#stonathan #jonathan byers x steve harrington #byeler #will byers x mike wheeler #byler #finally reposting in a way that isn't a random post with a link alksdja #prompts #my fics

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gellavonhamster · 3 years

Text

in the bleak midwinter*: an asoue/atwq peaky blinders au concept

...also known as the idea that’s been living in my brain for what must be a couple of years now; I have reconciled myself with the fact that I will never write this fic because I simply do not have enough patience to think it out and write it down in the way that would give it justice, so here’s a plot bunny or something.

This is basically the Sugar Bowl Generation of VFD (still young, before kids and all) meets All The Wrong Questions (some of the events + some of the kid characters of ATWQ as adults) meets season one of Peaky Blinders, but I guess it could be read and understood without the knowledge of the latter simply as an organized crime AU.

It’s the beginning of the interwar period, and VFD is a gang. Which, yes, would require a certain amount of OOC of the characters, though I imagine their intimidation tactics would still avoid too much bloodshed. They deal with bookmaking, contraband, and sometimes art forgery because even this version of VFD has to have something sophisticated about it. There’s a number of places, such as bars and clubs, that pay them for protection, and there’s also a number of places they own, such as the Hotel Denouement with the Denouement brothers in charge and the nightclub ran by Ramona Browning**, alias the Duchess (her father was some kind of aristocracy, see, too aristocratic to ever truly acknowledge her). They use their influence to become the informal rulers of their part of the City. They claim to strive for power to make the City a better place, and these are not just words - they do donate money to schools and libraries, for example - but it’s not like they don’t enjoy being in power, and their rule is still based on crime, those who threaten it being eliminated swiftly.

The Snickets are the Shelby family of this AU, of course. Lemony is Tommy - the mastermind, already a legend of sorts despite being the youngest, plagued by the horrors of war - but still hoping for the best, strange as it seems, because he’s still Lemony. Jacques is Arthur, the fighter suffering from PTSD. Kit is Ada, but she’s also Aunt Polly - she’s the one who ran the business while the boys were in the army.

Now, season one introduced Grace Burgess as an undercover police informant spying on the Peaky Blinders.

Enter Ellington Feint.

Ellington’s father, the only family she has left, has been kidnapped by a gang called the Inhumane Society, and she’d do anything and everything to save him. So she agrees to infiltrate VFD, their rival gang, to find out the whereabouts of a shipment of weapons that was meant for the Society but was accidentally stolen by VFD. Apart from machine guns and shells, the shipment includes some “statue of a sea beast”, and no one cares to provide more explanations to Ellington about it, but apparently it is the most important part of that cargo. So Ellington takes on the position of a barmaid in The Black Cat Bar, one of the places that pay VFD for protection and the one frequented by its key members, and starts listening and watching.

Ellington needs to get close to the Snickets, because if anyone knows where the weapons are, it’s them. Steward Mitchum, the corrupt cop on the Society’s payroll whom she is to meet from time to time at the Natural History Museum (which she used to attend with her father) to pass on the information, suggests she should seduce one of the Snicket brothers. The problem is, Ellington has a chance to learn very soon that Jacques doesn’t know much about the stolen cargo, and Lemony is too taken with his girlfriend, the music hall singer Beatrice Baudelaire, to even look at any other woman. There’s no getting between them, even though it seems Beatrice also has something going on with VFD’s bookkeeper Bertrand Markson, and Lemony seems aware of it.

So Ellington decides to approach Kit instead. Kit, who seems so lonely - Ellington doesn’t know the details, but there was some serious falling-out between her and her ex-boyfriend, who has since left the City (and won’t appear in this story. Olaf is the problem for the hypothetical season two of this imaginary show). Ellington doesn’t plan on anything other than a very close friendship - yet, the closer they become, the more she understands that she is attracted to Kit.

(There certainly is a variant of the “I warn you, I’ll break your heart” - “Already broken” scene in which Ellington sings to Kit)

Anyway. Things progress, and they fall in love. Well, Kit seems to have fallen in love, and Ellington keeps trying to persuade herself that she hasn’t, because Kit has to remain nothing but a task for her.

The location of the stolen weapons, however, still remains a mystery, even though Ellington once hears Kit and Lemony discuss it. Whatever the statue is, Lemony seems to believe it has great powers, and Kit seems to believe it’s nothing but folklore. Lemony tells her of the stories of a mysterious sea animal (or spirit, or whatever it may be) he heard from other soldiers during the war, about what Widdershins heard during his time in the navy. Kit tells him that everyone is a believer in a foxhole, and that she loves W like her own kin but he’s a bragging idiot. There was nothing on the sea other than enemy ships.

Elllington’s mission is complicated by Lemony clearly not trusting her. He tells her it’s because his sister has been hurt before, but she suspects it’s more than that. He even admits that he had his people make enquiries in Paltryville, the town she claims to have come from, and found out that no Ellington Feint ever lived there. When he suggests her secrecy is due to a child born out of marriage, she is eager to confirm that. (Cue him asking her if she’s read Les Misérables - yeah, even this version of VFD would be literature nerds, how can it be otherwise - because this whole situation reminds him of Fantine, and her lying that she hasn’t and thinking that she’s more of a Javert at the barricade, really).

Then there’s a masquerade party at the Duchess’s club, and Kit takes Ellington there as her date. (Which is okay, because if there’s any place in the City where a woman dancing with another woman or a man dancing with another man would not be looked at askance, it’s the Duchess’s club. If I was actually writing a fic, there would definitely be a scene in which Ellington observes Beatrice asking Bertrand to dance with her and Bertrand trying to decline by telling her that, since he didn’t have time to procure a mask, he shouldn’t be on the dancefloor at all, and then Lemony approaches him with a spare mask in hand and encourages him to dance with Beatrice and puts the mask on Bertrand himself and it somehow looks so intimate as if he’s undressing him and Ellington’s like “Oh, so it’s like that with them. This is probably of no use to me but still, good to know”).

When Kit disappears at some point, Ellington follows her quietly and eavesdrops on her conversation with one of the Denouements. He tells her that his brother is all right and sends his regards. Later at the party, however, Ellington sees two Denouements. Why would one of them send the other’s regards to Kit if they’re all in the same room? A couple of drinks with the already tipsy Olivia (officially a fortune-teller, but who knows what purposes VFD really uses her salon for?), and Ellington learns that there used to be three Denouements, actually. But the third brother, Dewey, had a conflict with one of rival gangs which nearly resulted in a war, had not Lemony agreed to dispose of Dewey. To stop that gang from going against VFD, he killed Dewey with his own hands.

Except he didn’t, Ellington thinks. Lemony must have staged Dewey’s execution, and now he’s out there very much alive. Perhaps this knowledge will come in handy.

Meanwhile, the Inhumane Society, who have other beef with VFD apart from the stolen weapons, are getting impatient. There’s a gun-fight which results in Ike Anwhistle dying and his grieving widow, Josephine, telling Lemony it is all his fault and leaving the city. (I know I said this is based on s1 only, but they’re the John and Esme Shelby of this story). And Bertrand is severely wounded. VFD needs another bookkeeper while he’s recovering, and Kit, who knows from The Black Cat’s owner Dashiell Qwerty that Ellington has also been keeping the books of the bar lately and doing it well, offers this position to her. This gives Ellington an opportunity to learn more about the asserts and resources of VFD - and a chance to discover some interesting notes scribbled next to the name of Dewey Denouement. Dewey Denouement, who is only officially dead, but still has a grave at the cemetery.

Ellington tells Stew she has an idea where the weapons and/or the statue might be hidden.

When she meets some of the members of the Inhumane Society to take them to the tomb, she is surprised to see Hangfire himself among them. She’s only seen him in passing before, this mysterious man with his face covered in bandages. They say he’s been horribly disfigured during the war. They also say he came back mad. When they’ve done some digging and unearthed, instead of a coffin, several crates of guns - and opened one of them to find a small statue of what seems like a very scary seahorse - Mitchum and Flammarion are suddenly shot down, and Lemony Snicket steps from behind a gravestone.

He’s been following them.

Of course he didn’t believe that all Miss Feint is hiding is an illegitimate child, Lemony tells them as he’s holding Hangfire at gunpoint. He’s been doing research. In fact, the man whose grave they’ve unearthed is presently in a unique position allowing him to make research away from the City. He’s found out that Ellington Feint is the daughter of a renowned naturalist Armstrong Feint, who’s recently gone missing. And then they managed to discover something more.

This is when Hangfire grabs a gun and points it at Lemony, and Lemony aims at Ellington instead, which for some reason stops Hangfire from shooting.

This is also when it turns out that Lemony has also been followed, and Kit Snicket steps from behind another gravestone, pointing a gun at her brother. He keeps aiming at Ellington, wearily telling Kit she isn’t really going to shoot him.

Kit tells him that unless he drops the gun, he’ll find out.

(When Ellington tries to speak to Kit, she just tells her to shut up. And it hurts, because Kit has stopped being just a mission a long time ago. And now she knows that Ellington’s been lying to her from the start. And she may not want Ellington to die, but she would also hardly ever forgive her. And that would be fair).

And then Hangfire tries to shoot Kit, and Ellington screams, and Kit manages to spring back, and Lemony fires at the man who tried to kill his sister, and suddenly Hangfire is bleeding out on the ground and calling out to Ellington in her father’s voice.

That is what they’ve also found out about Hangfire, Lemony tells her as she’s kneeling beside the body, unable to bring herself to uncover his face. He sounds genuinely surprised; he thought she knew.

Kit makes him let Ellington go and tells her she doesn’t want to see her ever again. And Ellington leaves. She takes a train to some seaside town she’s never heard of before and leaves. Her job is ended. Her father is dead. Her love affair that never should have happened is in the past. She still doesn’t know why her father lied to her when he could have just asked and she would’ve done anything, why he kept up this double life, what was the significance of the statue and what it might become in the hands of someone like Lemony Snicket. She is too tired and sick of it all to try to find out.

She manages to build a life in Stain’d-by-the-Sea. She works in a coffee shop and sings there in the evenings. She never sings the song she sang to Kit again. She marries a man she doesn’t have any truly strong feelings for.

Then, a year or so later, there’s a phone call, and the voice of the woman she loved and betrayed tells her she still can’t stop thinking of her.

*This phrase used by the Peaky Blinders upon the death of one of them is replaced by “The world is quiet here”. Obviously.

**My Last Duchess, referenced in ASOUE in connection with R, is written by Robert Browning.

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ererokii · 4 years

Text

Once More || Shouto Todoroki

Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki x Fem! Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, Todoroki is a douchebag, suggestive themes

Word Count: 6686

Synopsis: Pro Hero Shouto needs to approve his hero ratings and by doing so, he helps a local daycare of the brink of being shut down.

Taglist (message to be added): @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @saltie @pixxiesdust @fryingpanitachi @sugacookiies @kingtamakimurder

➺ Note: This is for the @bnhabookclub‘s bingo event! The prompt is Snobby x Humble. Thank you Ze and Gabs for betaing 🥰. Part 2 here

Bingo Masterlist

Being the son of the number one hero had its perks. Sometimes. Not all the time. The only bad thing was being recognized by the paparazzi in a crowd easier. Shouto would say it got real annoying quick. The young hero, who recently graduated from Yuuei, went to work for his father’s agency. Of course, he didn’t want to do that, since he was still in his rebellious ways against Endeavor. As much as the media thought it was something cute, father and son working together in the same agency, it wasn’t like that on the inside. The only reason Endeavor wanted Shouto to work with him was to boost up his hero ratings simply. Shouto knew this was the reason from the beginning. Since then, he left the Endeavor agency and went on his own to create a successful agency. This was four years ago.

At the age of 22, Shouto’s agency was one of the best in all of Japan, if not the best agency. Being successful at such a young age was something that took over his mind. He started with nothing but ash and dirt and turned it into something glorious and robust. His hard work paid off, and that sent his ego soaring off the earth. Everyone would be talking about him, and no one else. Why wouldn’t they? He was rich, smart, and extremely handsome.

After graduating, Shouto cut off all ties with his former classmates, being told by his father that they were nothing more than distractions keeping him from reaching his goal. The only two he kept in touch were Midoriya and Bakugou because they were always working with each other on missions. He had no choice but to maintain ties with them.

Part of being in the spotlight was being there for the public. Not just by saving them. By doing greetings and signings, occasional galas to raise money for those that need it most, or even visiting schools. Of course, everyone needs to see the heroes doing good deeds. There can’t be headlines saying, ‘Pro Hero Shouto is a heartless bastard! He doesn’t care for the public at all!’ That was the last thing Shouto wanted. He liked the positive attention on his agency. It made him feel powerful.

At the moment, Shouto was busy with his paperwork, as usual. Typically he would have had one of his newer sidekicks to do this for him since he usually was working, but this was an exception. A sigh of annoyance left his lips as he clicked his pen rapidly, staring straight at the wooden door that separated him from everyone else. His foot tapped on the floor, his leg bouncing up and down. The clock ticked with each second that passed, the precious time going over his head that made him stay locked with his inner demons.

He blew a strand of hair out of his face that was too stubborn to stay in place. He watched it move with the air before falling back where it was in the beginning. He mindlessly brushed his bangs out of his face, slicking them back for a second before letting go, the tuft of hair falling back on his forehead. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the shorter hairs stand up. Since he started brand new, he changed his look, mostly his hair. He kept his hair on the top the same, long on top but short in the back, giving him a modern-day undercut.

A knock to the door broke him from his reverie, causing him to jolt faintly in surprise. “Who is it?”

“Shouto, it’s me! I’m here to discuss this month’s funding!” The voice of his assistant rang from the other side of the door, coming out muffled.

Shouto clicked his tongue in annoyance and sat up properly, clicking the pen in boredom. “Come in.”

The door's hinges squeaked as it swung open, as a male came in with a binder stacked with information.

“What the hell is all of that?”

“Uh, some more paperwork and requirements for the funding!”

Shouto groaned and let his head hit against the black cushion of his work chair. “If it can’t be helped. Just get straight to the point. What’s in it for this month?”

His assistant started talking about the preparations. A small daycare that was not too far from his agency needed help staying open. Their teacher desperately needed materials for her class as she called it, but was too empty-handed to get the job done.

“A bunch of kids huh,” Shouto mumbled, running his hand through his hair. “And why couldn’t Deku get this one instead? I mean, I’m sure I could have gotten something better besides this.”

“Deku wanted this one, but his assistant told him that he already did a daycare last month and needed to do something different. Ground Zero… wasn’t a good candidate, so now here we are with you. I already scheduled you to visit the daycare in about a week.”

Shouto stared up at the ceiling, his hands scrunching up the fabric of his navy pants from his hero costume. He didn’t know a single thing about kids, considering he didn’t have the most beautiful childhood. What was he supposed to do when a nasty crying child comes up to him? Give him a high five and send him off again like nothing happened?

“This is plain stupid.”

“Well, it’s meant to make you look good in the public eye! Sure, you might not like it, but it’s for the ratings. Plus ya know…” he trailed off, sliding the binder in front of Shouto. “It’ll make you a better person.”

Shouto snapped his head quickly to face him, his heterochromatic eyes narrowed. “And what makes you say that? Am I not a good person?”

His assistant smiled faintly and turned on his heel, marching for the door. “You’ll find out when the time comes, Shouto.” His hand turned the knob, opening the door as he walked out, the door shutting behind him

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed for a second while cracking his knuckles. “I’ll find out, huh… alright.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

As expected, Shouto arrived at the daycare, a scowl written on his lips. As he exited his vehicle, he slammed the driver's door behind him, causing the car to shake from the force he exerted.

He took one glance at the daycare and made a face of annoyance. “Only for this month, and that’s it,” he whispered to himself, letting one foot lead in front of the other. As he walked to the entrance, he took notice of the details. The once white paint was now peeling off the walls, the smiley faces of the painted kids were now fading away, the colors disappearing. The only thing that seemed to be alive in the vicinity was the grass he was walking on and the flowers' pots. The tall blades of green stood proud and active, dancing along with the cool breeze that sent shivers down Shouto’s body. The flowers in the once brown pots held their beauty as if it was the only thing they could hold onto. The mixtures of reds, oranges, and yellows filled his eyesight. Their petals blossomed that showed off their extravagant colors to the world, a small pleased smile making its way onto his face. “At least these are the only things alive in this forsaken place.”

He lifted his hand, clenching into a fist as his knuckles collided with the door three times. Shouto took a step back, waiting for the sitter on the other side to open the door. A quiet sigh escaped his being as he rolled his head to one side, feeling the stretch in his neck. “Better not be some old lady, I swear.”

The locks being turned from the other side made him fix his posture. “W-wait! Don’t open the paint bottle, Himarie!!” The woman's voice came from the other side before the door swung open.

A woman with a bright smile greeted him, already knowing about his arrival. Her face was covered in small splotches of different color paint, her once white apron a mess. He noticed her yellow dress underneath the cover, a pattern of sunflowers.

“S-Shouto!” you chirped in excitement, holding your hand out for him to shake. “It’s an honor to have you here!”

He stared at your hand for a few seconds before sticking his out, shaking your hand with a firm grip. “Of course,” he said before taking his hand back and dropping his arm back by his side.

Your smile seemed to brighten, if possible. Opening the door more for him, you ushered him inside. “Please come in!”

Internally he groaned as he walked inside, looking around the place. It was pretty colorful inside. After all, it was meant for kids younger than five.

“Sorry for the mess!” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment. “They just finished playing with their toys.”

“Miss Y/N! The paint spilled!” A young boy with red eyes and brown hair stared up at you, tugging on your yellow dress. He noticed a male standing in front of him and gasped, pointing a finger. “S-Shouto!” he yelled in shock, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“S-Shouto?!” a unison of voices spoke up from the room on the side where the other kids were doing their crafts. The sound of feet hitting the rug filled his ears as a group of young children filled his eyesight, their eyes full of amazement.

“My mommy loves you!”

“You’re my favorite hero!”

“Can you sneeze out fire from your left side?!”

“Himarie!” you snap at the girl for her question. “Please, children, behave yourself! Keep those questions for later!” you sighed at their ridiculous questions as you reached behind your back, untying your apron's knot. “Did you guys clean up your mess?”

The sudden silence swept over the room. That was your answer.

“Go clean up the room, or you can’t ask Shouto any questions.”

That seemed to grab their attention. The children scattered out of the room, yells and sweet giggles coming from them.

“Ah, sorry about that. You know how kids can sometimes be.”

Shouto kept his hardened stare on their childish antics. “Yeah. Sure.”

You awkwardly stood there, clasping your hands together that created a small noise. “Well…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say next. It seemed that he didn’t want to be here.

He didn’t. He had better things to do. He had an improving agency to work on, to stay the best out of everyone in Japan. Not here babysitting a bunch of dirty, messy kids. No matter how hard he tried persuading Deku to take this instead of him, he would reply with the same response.

“No, Shouto. I think you need this more out of everyone. Not even Kacchan needs this.”

He could have laughed, thinking about it now out of all places. The more he thought about it, the more amused he grew.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” you started, your words kicking him out of his head as your eyes staring intently into his dazed heterochromia ones.

“When I got the phone call saying a pro-hero was going to come, I thought Deku would come instead of you.”

“Trust me. I wanted him to come instead.”

Your smile faltered. You didn’t think he would be like this. Ground Zero sure, he’s a different story but not Shouto.

“Oh. You’re one of those then.”

“One of those what?”

You shook your head. Maybe he was just having a bad day? Yeah, that had to be it.

“Nothing. I’m sure the kids are finished and are waiting for you now.”

With that, you walked to the other room where the children were, all surprisingly sitting quiet and still as they waited for the pro hero to come in. Despite being kids, they still held their manners.

Shouto watched you go and groaned softly, mumbling a hard dammit underneath his breath as he followed you. Each child kept their gaze on the older man in front of them.

“Now. Does anyone have any appropriate questions for Shouto?”

One small girl raised her hand. You raised an eyebrow in question. “Himarie? Is this a real question or not?”

“It is!” she gasped and leaned forward, placing her small hands on top of her knees that she was sitting on, “H-how did you become rich?!”

Shouto’s lip curled into a smirk as he pointed an index finger to his head. “Obviously, by working hard, but despite that, it’s all in here—your mind. You need to have the mentality of the best. Without that, you’re nothing. You have to do whatever it takes to be at the top. Not everyone stays up there with you. Some aren’t even worthy of being in the same rank as you. That’s when cutting ties come in. You have to cut those that will be distractions, no matter the cost.”

Pleased with his answer, she leaned back and whispered something to her friend beside her on how cool his response was and wanted to be just like him. You, on the other hand, stared at him like he was crazy. Your hands twitched by your side as you replayed his answer over and over again in your mind. What kind of adult gives that response to a child?

“Uh… was that an appropriate answer, Shouto?”

“Course it was. If it weren’t true, I wouldn’t have answered. They need to hear it from the real deal,” he pointed to himself. “If they hear it from someone lower than myself, then it loses its meaning. After all, it doesn’t get any better than me,” he said proudly, a smug look on that handsome face. If you were alone with him, you probably would've slapped the shit out of him to knock some sense into that dense brain of his.

Not being able to form any words, you quickly regain your composure. “Does anyone else have questions?”

More hands shot up quickly. You could already feel the weight of today’s outcome resting on your shoulders. Oh yeah, today was going to be a long day.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

“Bye, Hiko! See you tomorrow, honey!” you waved out for a little boy as he waved back before pointing at the male beside you, telling his father how cool Pro-Hero Shouto was today.

Shouto watched the interaction with a bitter taste in his mouth. He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he crossed his arms over his torso. “So, let’s get the arrangement ready.”

“Arrangement?” you asked, confused about what he meant.

“From keeping this place from shutting down. Ya know, the main reason for the cry of help.”

“Oh yeah,” you mumbled and motioned back inside. “We can talk about the details inside. Is that fine with you, Shouto?”

“Whatever, I don’t care. Just go in. I’m tired of seeing this bad paint job.”

Before you could retort back, he already walked back inside.

“Fucking asshole,” you muttered and followed him, shutting the door behind you.

He was already seated on the couch, his legs open in a man spread as if he was showing off. His hands were placed on his thighs, his leg bouncing up and down.

You watched his leg bounce for a split second before shaking your head, patting your cheek as you sat across from him, crossing one leg over the other. “Okay well as your assistant told yo-”

“I don’t remember,” he interrupted you, his head lolling to rest his cheek against his shoulder, eyeing you up and down.

“I'm- I’m sorry?” you breathed out, your fingers jumbling up the bottom of your dress.

He sighed and rubbed his temple in a slow circle. “I said, I. Don’t. Remember,” he said slowly, reiterating his point.

“No, no, I heard you the first time,” you leaned back into the couch, rubbing your arm up and down slowly. “Wow, okay. Well, what you should have remembered,” you began, his eyes narrowing at your choice of words. “That this daycare is on the brink of being shut down. Plus, I require materials, and I’m empty-handed.”

“Why don’t their parents pay for it then?”

“Because it goes to the funders. And the funders, guess what? Don’t give a shit anymore!” you gasped in fake surprise, slapping your hands onto your thighs to prove your point. “And that’s why I need your help, Shouto.”

“Why not just do some small fundraising on the side? Like a bake sale or something.”

“I have, and it works for maybe a month before the money's all gone. It can only go for so long...and I love these kids,” you whispered the last part quietly, almost too softly, but he caught on the last second.

For a moment, he felt his pride wash away as he watched you quietly. In all of his life, he couldn’t remember someone willing to do anything just to save something for him or anyone around him. His father couldn’t do that. His mom was out of the picture most of the time, and his siblings moved on with their own lives. Yet he couldn’t pinpoint his current emotion digging into the cave he built many years ago and trying to pull him back to shore.

“How bout this then.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, a small smirk growing on his face.

“I’m listening.”

“How about you go on a date with me? Then I’ll help. You’re pretty, very pretty, in fact, and I would love to take you out. Fair exchange, right? Seems good in my book.”

Already knowing you’ll say yes, he didn’t need to push it any further. Shouto always got what Shouto wanted. His head was so far up his ass he didn’t see the frown forming on your lips, his vision clouded with something else.

“No.”

Shouto’s eyes widened as he snapped his head upward. “You- I’m sorry, what? What did you say?”

“I said, no,” you repeated, your arms crossing over your chest. “What kind of a deal is that? You want to go down that road?”

Shouto continued to stare at you, his mouth parted open for words that didn’t come out. He was still in complete shock. Rejected. Denied. You said no.

You said no to Todoroki Shouto.

“W-why did you say no? Why didn’t you say yes?” he questioned, his nails digging into his pants, almost feeling it on his skin.

“I can already tell, your head is so far up your ass that you can’t see the real problem at hand. Look, if you don’t want to help, I’ll just do it myself. I don’t know if you know, but that’s a pretty dick move,” you snapped, standing up abruptly. “Now excuse me, I have to close up so please see yourself out.”

Still stuck in his little world, he scrambled off the couch and followed you. You didn’t want to date him. Many women and men would be begging to be in your position. They would have called you stupid for your answer. He remembered the number of times he attended the hero ratings, and his fans would beg for a night with him. All the time, he said no because, in his eyes, they weren’t worthy enough. No one was worthy enough to be with him. No one was on his level, however, you were.

When you first opened the door, he felt the air knocked out from his lungs. You were captivating. Perfect even. He noticed the loving gaze you had in your eyes when talking to those children. It was something he longed for. Something he wished he could have had as a young child. Now, as a successful adult, he didn’t understand why you rejected him. Shouto knew how handsome he was. Many reporters told him that on the daily. On top of that, his agency was the best in all of Japan.

So then why did you say no?

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Since then, Shouto’s visits to your daycare became a regular thing. He would force his sidekicks to do the awful paperwork so he could visit you instead. Like the day before, he came again, carrying two drinks, one for you and him. Sometimes both of you would stand in the courtyard and watch the kids run around and enjoy themselves. Words weren’t spoken between you most of the time, but you enjoyed it when they were. It was like he had a new sudden change of perspective.

The kids, of course, loved it. Every time he left, they begged for you to call him and make him come by repeatedly. The days he didn’t visit weren’t the same. The energy was much lower, the kids not wanting to participate in the activities you had for them. It got to the point where you had to put him on speaker and had him talk to them, saying that if they didn’t listen to you, he wouldn’t bring treats for them on his next visit. Let’s just say they got their treats.

On Shouto’s end of the deal, he did as he promised. Money started piling up for the daycare center. The first order of business he did was remodeling it. The old chipped paint outside was replaced with fresher color, giving it new life. He ordered dozens of different flowers to decorate the courtyard and the front, which were bland until the colorful additions. That part wasn’t needed, it was the good in him deciding you required it.

Better materials were bought with the funding he did. Sometimes it might have been a bit too much. From time to time, you forced him to stop buying things because you were running short on storage.

“And?”

“W-well, there’s no more room for those in the closet, so stop bringing!”

“..okay and? If that’s the problem, then we’ll build something bigger for you and the kids.”

“Huh?!”

With the amount of time you spent with him, the more times you caught yourself slipping. There were times as you watched him lift someone to climb a tree or hold them in the air as they ‘flew,’ which made you think about how he would be as an actual dad. He was great with the kids, no doubt about that, but the more you thought, the more you wondered how it would be if you got in a relationship with him.

Was he kind? Was he still snobby and thought he was the best? Or was that all an act? Did he care for those around him?

As you thought about him by yourself, the heat in your cheeks was a slow sign that you were catching feelings. It was something you weren’t proud of, but it was there. He made your heart beat faster when he stood beside you, your shoulders brushing against each other or the subtle hand to hand touches when he took something from your arms to hold instead. Small touches turned into small kisses on the cheek, to something bigger.

The first time you and Shouto entangled in his sheets, it felt wrong on so many levels. He was intoxicating. He was a predator luring in his prey, reading to pounce when you were least expecting it. It was something you shouldn’t be doing. It was so wrong. Yet you couldn’t find yourself stopping. Waking up in his arms was an ongoing thing for as long as you could remember. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t catch any feelings for the bi-colored man, but of course, your brain and heart had a mind of their own.

Shouto, on the other hand, had what he wanted. He knew you would snap soon, coming to your senses. Having you underneath him, calling for his name and his name only made him swell with pride. He was an irresistible man, and he knew how to use his charms, for better or worse. He lured you in with gifts (which you were grateful for each but refused whenever he brought something new for you), affection, and attention. What kind of girl didn’t want that?

You apparently. You cared for the simple things. The diamond necklace didn’t do justice to the bouquet of roses that you loved with all your heart. Each gift you received, you always smile. But you never received a gift with open arms. Your responses were always… so different than what he expected. He expected you to be crying with joy, glad he bought you the latest wear or anything expensive. Not rejecting him and telling him he could use his money for something more useful. Money bought him fame. Money bought him power. Wealth made him who he was.

He was a hero after all, and you were a mere care sitter. The both of you were in two completely different worlds, worlds that could never collide. The rich colliding with the not-so-rich. Something rare in the hero world. The thought of you fooling around with each other brought excitement to the table. It got to the point where you stopped showing up. With the sudden change of behavior, the questioning began on his behalf. Why did you stop showing up? Were you uninterested in him now?

“I can’t keep doing this, Shouto.”

“I know you can’t Y/N. Why can’t you? Don’t you think I deserve a reason, princess?”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“Oh, you aren’t now? Guess you can kiss that daycare goodbye then.”

“Why are you such an asshole?!” you cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders as you shook him with urgency. “Is this some sort of game to you?! Can’t you see it?! I fucking like you, you fucking prick! Your head is swelled up with this complex that you can’t see anything else but yourself! You carry a mirror at all times and just stare in your reflection!”

“Y/N-”

“No! I’m talking! You shut your fucking mouth because it’s my turn to talk!”

“I like you.”

“You cause so mu- Wait, what?”

“I said. I. Like. You.”

“Y-you… you like me?” you squeaked, your hands slowly loosening their grip on his body, embarrassment flooding through your veins.

“Well, that’s what I just said, no?”

Ever since that encounter with him, you went on many private dates, preferably the ones where you stayed the night as he would cook soba for you, the one thing he seems to eat.

The media caught sight of you leaving his place at odd times in the morning, the headlines always saying the same thing.

Fling or Thing?! Random woman spotted leaving Pro Hero Shouto’s house!

Every time you read the news online, your first reaction was to tell Shouto about it. His response was always the same. “Don’t worry about it. I love you, alright? The media will eat up anything. Don’t let it get to your head.” How could you not? Your face was plastered on every social site known to man.

A swarm of paparazzi surrounded both of you as you were spotted getting coffee. An angry scowl was plastered on his usually calm exterior. His arm was draped around your shoulder protectively, holding you closer to his tense body.

“Shouto, who is this woman?! Is she a one-time thing?!”

“Shouto, is she like the last?! Another once more?!”

“Is she a hero?! Who is she?! Give us answers!”

“Keep your head down,” he muttered into your ear, pushing past them with force as he desperately tried getting both of you out of there. His hand palmed the small of your back, his car in sight. With all the craziness happening, your hand clutched the white t-shirt he was wearing, the material clumped between your fingers.

A cameraman got in your face, the flashing lights temporarily blinding you as you got swallowed by the fame. “Who are you?! Are you dating?! Are you like the last girl?!”

“Hey!” Shouto yelled, shooting a hand in front of the camera, his hands gripping the lens as frost started to swallow it whole. “Ever heard of personal space?! Because I don’t think you have!” His shoulders heaved up and down with his pants, his eyes blinded by red hot anger. “Get out of here.”

“Hey man, I’m just doing my job!”

“Does it look like I fucking care?! Get the fuck away!” he stood up, his chest puffing out slightly as he got in the male’s face, glaring into his eyes.

“Shouto,” you whispered, your hand reaching out to wrap around his wrist. “P-people are watching. We should leave.”

Placing a hand on the paparazzi’s shoulder, Shouto leaned in closer with his lips, ghosting his ear. “Remember. I could ruin your whole career if I wanted to. Who will the public believe more? Some mere shitty cameraman, or one of the most loved Pro-Heroes to ever exist? Not one to brag but..” he trailed off, his fingers digging into the man’s shoulders, causing a groan of pain to leave his lips.

“I always get what I want. No matter what.”

Pushing himself away, Shouto turned sharply on his heel and engulfed your smaller hand in his larger one. His pace was fast due to his long legs, causing you to jog slightly from behind. From the back, you could hear the faint growls and whispers coming from Shouto’s angry self. Blinded by anger, his grip on your hand tightened by the second.

“S-Shouto, you’re hurting me!”

Coming to his senses, his eyes widened in realization as he let go of your hand. You immediately brought it to your chest, rubbing the pain to soothe it.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips, lingering them on your knuckles. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s okay… I can see why you get upset over it…”

Noticing your change in demeanor, he peered down at you, staring at you through his lashes. “What’s wrong?”

Deciding it was now or never, you sighed softly as you looked up at him. “One of them back there asked if I was like ‘the last girl’. What does that mean?”

He pursed his lips, licking the lower. “That’s something you don’t have to worry about. It was years ago. My high school years. I practically forgot about it.”

“A-are you sure?” you stuttered, hesitating to push it any further. “It seems pretty big if they keep bringing it up.”

“I said no.” he snapped, regretting his tone of voice when he noticed your taken aback look. “Look… I rather not talk about it, okay? Let’s go get the rest of the supplies, okay?”

Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded as you reached for his hand, entwining your fingers.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

It’s been months since the fateful day Pro-Hero Shouto arrived at your center. It was safe to say the funders suddenly started caring. You had your suspicions about why they did, but decided to steer clear from it. Ads were displayed everywhere. Each week more parents signed up their kids. You even got resumes for prospecting employees. Shouto was a pain in the ass, but you were thankful nonetheless.

A pair of twins were last. Shouto was off from patrol today and decided to help around the hectic place. He was currently playing hero with a young boy as you sat down under a sakura tree, his twin sister sitting in front of you as she begged for you to braid her hair.

You hummed softly, twisting and moving the locks of hair as gently as you could, afraid of hurting her.

“Miss Y/N?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you and Shouto getting married?”

“Huh?!” A surprised noise left your lips, your cheeks darkening at her innocent question. Marriage was way out of the question. You and Shouto have only been dating for 7. You were nowhere near ready.

“W-what makes you think that?!”

“Well, in the stories, the princess meets her prince, and they get married! Isn’t Shouto your prince?”

“Ah...” you laughed nervously as you brushed off the jitters. “Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t.” You glanced up and found Shouto already staring at you, a grim look in his eyes. You frowned as you tilted your head slightly, your mouth forming the words, ‘are you okay?’

He turned around, his back to you as he waved at an upcoming parent, which he assumed was their father.

“Akia, your dad is here!”

The little girl in front of you sprang up from the ground, her hair now in a loose flowy braid. “Thank you, Miss Y/N! I love it!”

A loving smile made its way on your lips as you caressed her cheek with the back of your hand gently. “Good, I’m glad. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” She quickly wrapped her small arms around your legs before letting go just as quickly. Her short legs moved as she ran to Shouto, jumping up to hit his high five.

“Bye-bye, ShouShou!”

“Bye, guys. See you soon.”

After watching the two leave, Shouto walked past you, bumping his shoulder with yours. You stumbled slightly as you regained your balance. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you acting like that?”

“This is always how I act.”

“No..” you trailed off, following him inside the central area. “Are you sure there isn’t anything bothering you?”

“Actually.” He stopped moving, his shoulders tensed up with his hands balled into fists by his side. You stopped moving as well, noticing the small flame appearing on his left side.

“Shou-”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said. Shut. Up.” he sneered, turning around to face you, his intense stare heating up by the second.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this again?” you snapped, your own hands balled into fists. “Why are you acting like the dick you were when we first met?”

“When we first met? What makes you think I changed? Don’t be stupid,” he laughed before going serious once more. “I haven’t changed. I think the one that changed is you. You live in this little world where you think everyone will help you succeed.”

“Me? I’m the one who does that shit? Ever looked in your fucking mirror? If anyone is stuck in their world, it’s you!”

“Haven’t you noticed something, sweetheart” he whispered, advancing towards you. He backed you up into a corner, his hand placing beside your head with your smaller body under his. “Notice how more and more people are talking about me?” his lips grazed your ear shell, his tongue peeking out to trace the shape. “It’s all thanks to you.”

Realization dawned on you. You always read the news, whether it is related to you or not. News was scattered across Japan as on goers took photos of the pro hero in a relaxed nature, something no one ever saw. It was a rare sight. Each hero had their gentle side, and they finally saw his. He was one of the best, but he was also the best in everything he did.

“To… to me?” you whispered. A smirk formed on his lips as his finger curled underneath your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Just you, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down as his lips ghosted yours, his hot breath fanning your face. “Now I’m all Japan talks about. You got what you wanted, and I got what I wanted.”

You gritted your teeth as you pushed him off of your body rather abruptly. “Shut up. That’s not true.”

“Oh? Is it not? How much longer are you going to deny it? When are you going to learn Y/N? I’m Shouto! One or if not the greatest hero out there! I always get what I want. You were nothing but a stepping stool. Thanks to you, my ratings skyrocketed. Just what I wanted. I should thank my assistant for this opportunity because god, if Deku took this and advanced before me, I don’t know what I would do.”

Tears welled up on your lower lashes as you desperately wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. He was right. You were gullible to think someone of his ranking would like you, someone way lower than him.

“You’re a sick fucking person, you know that?” you spoke through choked sobs. “I thought you were changing. You don’t care about anyone. You rather see those around you to die than save them. How can you call yourself a hero if you can’t even feel for the public? You are the worst hero ever.” You kept your chin up with tears flowing effortlessly. “I should have known how you were when we first met. God, do you even have any humanity?!” you suddenly yelled, walking up to him with your finger jabbing into his chest.

“You think you’re a fucking hero?! You're a goddamn villain! You don’t even care about kids! People like you make me sick!”

You didn’t care if you sounded hysterical. You didn’t care about anything but letting out your feelings. Your boyfriend– ex-boyfriend used you for his gain. You couldn’t describe how you felt. All these months, all i love you’s, gifts, dates were nothing but a mere lie. Oh, what a story you had for your grandkids.

“I never want to see your stupid face anywhere near this place, or anyone! Everyone deserves to know the truth. Pro-Hero Shouto, a fake! A fraud! But because I’m nowhere like you,” you whispered, grabbing him by his shirt's collar. “I cared about your selfish ass. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your career. I know you worked hard for it.”

You walked forward with him in his grasp, leading him to the door. “That girl? I did my research. It turns out you pulled a stunt like this before. Guess I’m not the only one to be fooled by the famous Shouto Todoroki, huh?” you spat, your lips dripping with venom as you stopped by the door. “Shouto Todoroki strikes again, once more,” you grunted, letting go of him.

“Y/N.”

“Y/LN. Not like you’ll need that anyway. Do me a favor. You can do that, right?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Get the fuck away from me.” Your hand placed on the wood, slamming the door shut in his face. You panted softly, your tense form relaxing slowly. You stifled a sob as your fist hit the door, your forehead coming forward to hit the cold wood. You got played. And he didn’t even care. He would probably brush it off and walk into his office, pretending nothing happened. Shouto was a beautiful curse. One that you wished that you didn’t make a deal with. The next time you saw him in public, you wouldn’t acknowledge him. Now, he was simply a stranger. A ghost that didn’t deserve your time.

Shouto, on the other side of the door, stayed still, not able to comprehend what to do.

No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He loves you, and this wasn’t supposed to happen. He loves you, Shouto is in love with you. He wanted to help you with the kids. He loved seeing you at ease when one of the children complimented you that day because of your clothing or hair. He loves seeing the small blush dusting your cheeks as you woke up beside him, memories of the night before flooding it.

Oh. But he was heartless.

Shouto Todoroki was a smart, handsome, successful man. He knew his way around people, tricking them for his success. He was relentless. He was cunning. He was manipulative. His award-winning smile had those around him swooning. His selfishness got the best of him. Who could blame him, though? He worked hours through his sweat and tears to be where he was currently, at the top with no competition. He was the best.

And the best always got what they wanted.

#bnhabookclub #shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #myheroacademia #bokonoheroacademia #xreader #reader insert #my fic #fic #bingo event

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undertaker1827 · 4 years

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Hi!! May I request Sebastian and Ronald w a s/o that sleep talks? She rarely does but when she does sleep talk its just her yelling out iconic meme? Bonus of the sleep talking get progressively more aggressive, like its starts w “put GERARD BaCk!” And then the next time she yells “bitch gon step on my fucking toe bitch w them fucking cowgirl fucking boots bitch DIGOISTIN” (oki ik this is so old but its iconic😂😅)

Why hello yes of course you can!! Sorry this took me so long to write, hope it’s what you wanted I tried so hard I really did ahhh

Masterlist

Sebastian Michælis

You had never really been one to talk in your sleep. Given that mostly Sebastian avoided doing it all together - he didn’t actually need to sleep as a demon - he would often just hold you while you rested. If he had nothing to do which involved a deadline, he found laying with you to be quite the comfort after a long day filled with incompetent servants and constant complaints from his Young Lord over wifi speed. If Sebastian had told the boy they’d got the fastest broadband anywhere, he’d done it a thousand times. He would allow his hand to stroke back through your hair, fingertips lightly grazing your scalp whilst you slept peacefully as he mulled over the days events. Granted, it gave him time to think, but more importantly he enjoyed knowing you were safe, finding that the thought gave him peace of mind.

One night, he was doing just that. You had gone to sleep a couple of hours ago, Sebastian laying on his back and you curled into his side, your head resting on his chest and him holding you tightly. You were slumbering peacefully, or at least he thought you were. You had started mumbling something intelligible, though Sebastian had to remark to himself that you sounded incredibly confused. He continued to listening to your mumbling until you finally came up with a sentence he could understand. You turned to face the demon, eyes open wide and expression entirely serious, stating, “Road work ahead? Yeah, I sure hope it does!” You proceeded to close your eyes and bury your face in Sebastian’s chest, resuming your usual calm breathing pattern as if nothing had ever happened. So amused was the demon at your apparent distress that his hand had paused, half hidden in your hair and his shoulders were jumping with silent laughter that he didn’t even try to cover up.

The next time you talked in your sleep, some several months later, you had rushed in from work, collapsed on Sebastian’s sofa then lost consciousness about five minutes later. From what you had told him, it was something of a stressful day and there was one colleague in particular you were ready to murder in cold blood. When you started mumbling, he immediately rushed to your side, phone in hand and determined to catch whatever you said this time on video. He still remembered your nervous confusion from the last time so clearly that it sounded like you were speaking aloud every time he thought of it and chuckled at the thought of something similar happening again. By the end of a good 20 minutes, all recorded so that the viewer would be entirely unaware of Sebastian’s silent chuckling, you had told someone to come back as you hadn’t finished insulting them yet, claimed you “sits but did not fits”, accused someone else of having harboured a red dot the entire time and ended with a disgusted “I had fun once. It was awful.”

When you woke up half an hour later, Sebastian immediately brandished his phone in your face to make you watch something he claimed was inordinately funny, without telling you what it was first. As you watched sleeping-you gradually get more upset through the video, your smirk grew until you were laughing long with your boyfriend.

“I knew it!” You announced at last, “My soul and Grumpy Cat’s are linked!!”

However, it was your most recent escapade, in Sebastian’s mind at least, which was the best. It was once again the middle of the night, Sebastian holding you close as you slept blissfully on. You started muttering something he couldn’t decipher, then quietened down again, only to start up once more. As he listened to your slurred speech, he decided what you were doing would be better classed as grumbling than muttering, clearly very annoyed over something. Then, and this was the only way he could possibly describe it, your grumbling simply intensified. It continued doing so until you were practically yelling, but he couldn’t understand a word you were saying. That was until the very last moment, when you screamed, demonically if he did say so himself then claimed in a false, almost sing-song tone, “Everything’s fine.” Having said your piece, you flopped back down, face buried in a pillow and said nothing more for the remainder of the night. If Sebastian’s eyes held a little of a glimmer in the morning than usual, you certainly thought it suited him - though you were ignorant as to what had caused it.

Ronald Knox

Ronald had been entirely unaware that you talked in your sleep at all. You had never mentioned it to him, either by way of warning or whilst relating a funny story that had come about because of something you said unconsciously, and it became apparent to him that his was because you had no idea you did it. You barely ever spoke a word, but sometimes, sometimes you did; these cases were, in Ronald’s opinion, some of the most iconic things you ever said.

He first discovered your sleep talking when he had come in very late from dispatch, having been left with mountains of paperwork, and quietly slipped into bed next to you. He gave a lopsided grin when you automatically moved closer to him until you were wrapped securely in his arms with your head resting on your shoulder. The reaper found he couldn’t get to sleep immediately, so instead settled for taking in your slightly dishevelled, beautiful appearance. Some of your hair was pressed into a strange angle from how you had been laying and he couldn’t see your glittering eyes, but all he could think was how amazing you were. He was disrupted from his thoughts quite quickly though. You began muttering, sounding most distressed, however he was able to pick our at least part of what you said.

“I’m disgusted, I’m revolted, I dedicate my entire life to my Lord and Saviour and this is the thanks I get.” By the end of your speech, you had curled up into a ball and all but hidden your face from Ronald entirely. The reaper couldn’t help his grin as he put a hand up to your back and ran it along your spine comfortingly, soothing you as best he could. He only hoped you would wake up before he left for work in the morning so he could tell you what had happened.

It wasn’t until a few months later that you talked in your sleep again. This time, you had been watching something of a movie marathon with Ronald only for your eyes to drift close halfway through the third film, head falling heavily onto his shoulder despite your best efforts to stay awake. The reaper was neither surprised nor bothered by this development, simply continuing to watch the film with an arm slung securely over you. You both stayed like this for a long time, the film a good two thirds of the way through, when you started shifting around a little bit, a hand moving to grip his arm. Then, you whined. Literally whined, as though you were a heartsick dog. That alone brought a lopsided grin to Ronald’s face, but what really did him in was when you started telling someone how nice their hair looked, then followed it up with, “Why can’t you just tAke thE cOmpLimeeEEE-” which just descended into unintelligible whining again. Honestly, he was surprised his laughter didn’t wake you up. He couldn’t even keep a straight face when he related the story to you later on.

His favourite instance, however, occurred when you had spent the day walking around London together, just exploring the streets and seeing things you had never really taken much notice of before. It was late when you got back and you decided to stay over at Ronald’s place rather than make your way back to your own. You had both settled down, slumbering in each other’s embrace when your loud, frantic voice yelled out through the room, startling Ronald awake even as you carried on sleeping.

“Din-din in T minus five seconds!!” The reaper almost fell out of the bed in shock, whipping around to see where the threat was only to realise what your actual words were. A chuckle escaped his lips as his gaze fell back to your sleeping form, face pressed against a soft pillow. He leaned down, intending to lay a gentle kiss on your shoulder. As it happened, you threw an arm out to the side so suddenly that he didn’t have time to catch it or dodge, meaning he got smacked straight across the face. You jumped up to scream, “Evacuate the kItcHEN!!” Proceeding to lay down again and resume peacefully resting as if nothing at all had happened. You had left Ronald sitting up with a hand pressed against one eye, the other held in front of him to fend you off if necessary yet a smirk still on his lips. He soon descended into full on, cackling laughter, so loud that he startled you awake and was left incapable of telling you what happened for a good ten minutes, though during that time you managed to pry his hand away from his face to find he had a blossoming black eye. You were mortified when you discovered that you were the one who had given it to him, but that just made it funnier for him.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #ronald knox #sebastian #black butler sebastian #black butler sebastian x reader #sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #kuroshitsuji ronald #kuroshitsuji sebastian #ronald #black butler ronald x reader #black butler ronald #ronald knox x reader #ronald x reader

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coal15 · 3 years

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Wild Speculation Time! Weeeeee!

Okay, so I don’t literally think this will happen or that this is what’s going on, it’s more of an: it would make a lot of the recent strange writing choices make more sense.

Ahem. Let the wild rumpus begin:

I’ve noticed there are persistent off-and-on rumors that Ryan and Oliver don’t get along like they used to. Whether “not getting along” means “not besties” or “I loathe the very sight of you,” who knows.

If it is true that they don’t get along while at the same time more and more people are not only shipping Buddie, but anti-shipping other options all well? Wow, that is a tricky spot to be in for a showrunner.

Forcing actors who can barely stand eachother to play love interests is . . . well, it’s been done before in plenty of shows, but it’s certainly not a working environment I’d wanna be a part of. It’s a great way to make everyone on set super uncomfortable, and I don’t want that experience for any of our lovely 911 cast or crew. Bleh.

So let’s look at other options:

Write both men off the series (which would, by default, get rid of Christopher too). Or write only one of them off the show.

Okay. I’m running the show. Who do I write off? The audience does love seeing Eddie in Awesome Protective Dad Mode. But overall it seems like Buck is the more popular character in general, and the audience also loves his bond with Christopher.

But if you get rid of Eddie, Chris goes with him, right?

And now for the absolutely terrible idea that I could totally see them doing just for the sake of resolving fan displeasure and/or on-set issues:

We all noticed that Eddie and Ana are not only an unpopular pairing, but it almost seems like they’re intentionally boring and w/out chemistry, right? It seems to me like most viewers have noticed that. And they wrote Eddie being a bad parent to Christopher the second he had a chance to get New Pussy in the near future. Unconcerned about bringing Ana into their home without a mask or any distancing, seeming not to care that his son has CP (which is often associated with a weakened immune system). And then not even noticing his kid leaving the house and getting in a car that then drives away. Yeah, he went from sweet concerned father to shitty oblivious father in the space of a single episode.

Like I said, it’s a terrible idea, I’m not a fan of this idea but what if . . .

They BIG TIME played up the bond between Buck and Christopher while highlighting Eddie’s inexplicable attraction to Ana and how it instantly makes him a worse father on purpose. What if it’s being done to make general viewers less sympathetic toward Eddie. Thus less attached to the character. And by contrast more aware of what a great father Buck is to Christopher?

I mean, one way of making a ship less popular is to turn half of said ship into an asshat. Hell, they could even spend the back half of S4 and some of S5 slowly morphing Eddie into an outright total douche if they wanted to. Then give his character some kind of “semi-redemption-then-he-dies-at-the-end-of-the-episode” send-off to close out his arc.

“BUT WOULDN’T THAT DESTROY CHRIS?!?” You bellow at your phone after reading those words. “PERISH THE THOUGHT YOU HORRIBLE HORRIBLE MONSTER PERSON!!!”

And yeah. With the way their relationship has been written up to this point it would be basically awful. But many a show has been willing to retcon an entire character and/or relationship history if it suits a narrative they wanna push. Not saying it’s a good thing to do, it’s usually not. Just saying it’s not unprecedented in TV Land. (and sometimes the only workable option if a drastic change simply has to be made for whatever reason)

Anyhow, my point being : if the showrunners wanted to get rid of Eddie but keep Christopher and his adorable relationship with Buck, they might think that their best option is to gradually (or not so gradually) morph Eddie into an uninvolved and/or shitty parent, while at the same time highlighting Buck’s evolution into a full-on paternal presence in Chris’s life. Aaaaaaaannnnnnd then write Ryan off the show via whatever means while making it clear that he wants Buck to take custody of Chris in the event of his absence or death.

Can’t say enough: I DON’T LIKE THE IDEA, but it would make several recent and super bizarre writing and casting choices make more sense. This is a show that usually does a great job with matching for chemistry. Athena and Bobby, Maddie and Chim, etc. Even Buck and Ali had . . . well, not terrible chemistry. Same goes for Taylor. Which makes it so strange that Eddie and Ana are such a huge dud. Even outside of “interfering” with Buddie, the actors simply have no chemistry at all. Which wouldn’t be weird if we didn’t have so many examples of the same damn show getting it spot-on right. Part of me believes it has got to be intentional.

Which gives us 3 likely(ish) possibilities:

1) They planned to straight-wash both characters all along and the utter lack of chemistry between Eddieana and ooc Eddie were simply poor writing/casting choices. Or that we’ll soon be moving on to Eddie’s “the one” (also female, of course)

2) Every writing choice in the last ep was actually designed to showcase the stifling awkwardness of Eddie with a “girlfriend” while also showcasing how much Buck already fits into the Diaz family as a parental figure. Basically nudging the general audience toward the idea of an official Buckley-Diaz family.

3) Eddie’s shitty parenting and tight Buck+Christopher bond will continue to escalate, highlighted more and more, until the audience dislikes Eddie and loves Christopher+Buck enough that writing Ryan off the show is a hell of a lot less risky.

I know Christopher has already been through so much trauma-but the Eddie Diaz I saw in the last episode is probably the last person (besides Ana) I would want guiding him through yet more trauma. If we’re going by this last episode alone? Yeah, that should be Buck’s job.

OH! Nevermind, there is a 4th possibility:

4) They just straight up re-cast Eddie and have the other characters make a few offhand comments like “did you change your hair? You look different,” and the show goes on as if he’s always been played by Mr.NewActor.

(Or I guess they could re-cast Buck instead, but I’m honestly less attached to Ryan as THE Eddie, so if I had to choose? Like, me personally? I’d pick Ryan for the ax. Sorry Ryan. Best of luck in the future, but I can’t imagine anyone besides Oliver playing Buck)

#buddie #Buck x Eddie #I continue to have more rambling thoughts #I really should be stopped #this shit is unhealthy #I promise I had actual hobbies before quarantine #I just want Buddie so much #and I need to think up reasons why it would make sense for them not to happen #shitty writing is shitty #didn't we already do this shit with queliot #memories of queliot #what a dumpster fire that was

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massivelycreepypineapple · 4 years

Text

Long Time Coming

Request: Can I request for Dean Winchester? The reader and Dean act like they hate each other when really, they both secretly like each other. One day, when the reader is left alone in the bunker with Dean, Dean takes the opportunity to tease her. This time, he’s gone too far and she takes off. She leaves for a walk and as the recent event was the only thing she was focusing on, she gets lost and it’s almost dark. She didn’t want to call Dean but she had no choice. She calls him and says she was lost. He finds her and takes her back to the bunker. On the way there, he confesses and she does as well. In the end, they start dating and a serious relationship.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you @originalposter-96 for this request! I hope it’s what you were looking for.

Masterlist

_______

He infuriated her. He really really did. How she wished she could just strangle him in his sleep. A coward’s move, yes, but it was the only way she could think of without getting her butt whooped. She would never in a million years admit out loud that he was the best hunter she had ever seen. It would make him even more insufferable.

Y/N couldn’t remember how it all started. Ever since they first met on a hunt they rubbed each other the wrong way and both were too damn stubborn and egotistical to talk about it or back down from an argument, much to Sam and Cas’ annoyance. So things gradually kept escalating to the point where they hated each other. But unfortunately for Y/N, she didn’t really hate him. She was in love with him against all odds, but considering what a bastard he was to her, she could never let him find out.

Y/N was even more annoyed one particular day as Sam decided to go on a solo hunt. He refused to take either of them, saying that he needed some peace and quiet. Though how he’d find peace and quiet in a hunt, she couldn’t fathom. So Y/N for the most part locked herself in her room, only coming out to get some food. But when evening came, she had enough of being cooped up. She decided to go to the bar to maybe have some fun.

She got dressed, grabbed her purse and made her way through the bunker only to bump hard into Dean.

“What the hell, Y/N! Watch where you’re going!” he snapped at her with a glare.

“Fuck you, Dean” She simply replied and continued on her way, not realising that he was looking her up and down, eyes darkening with lust and anger. She was dressed in a very short skirt and a tight top along with her black leather jacker and boots.

“You look like a hooker. Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?”

Y/N felt a pang of hurt go through her at being called a hooker by someone she loved. But she didn’t let it show as she abruptly turned out and fixed him with the meanest glare she could muster and she felt the satisfaction of watching his eyes widen just a little.

“None of your goddamn business, Winchester. Just leave me be ok?”

He quickly recovered and replied with a smirk, “I’m just saying Y/N, I didn’t think you were such an easy lay. You’d spread your legs for anybody, won’t you? Do they pay you after they’re done? Maybe there’s something about you after all.”

Y/N was taken aback by what he said. They’d always fight and say mean things to each other but he had never said something so cheap before. He’d rarely say something like this about any of the girls he’d hook up with. And to hear him say that to her was heart breaking.

His words shocked her so much that all she could do was look at him with a broken expression. She stared at him for a few secs and simply turned around and left the bunker slamming the door shut.

“Fuck fuck!” She whispered to herself, “Are you happy now?! You fall in love with a guy who hates your guts and this is bound to happen!”

Y/N kept walking. Tears filled her eyes and her vision got blurry. And she was desperate to walk off the pain. All she could do was think about his words. ‘Maybe there’s something about you after all.’ It kept echoing in her mind over and over again. What was she thinking dressing up like this? It wasn’t like her at all. Maybe a small part of her wanted to get some reaction out of Dean. But this wasn’t what she wanted. She felt so stupid and embarrassed and angry and that made her walk faster.

After a good hour of just walking, Y/N couldn’t recognise her surroundings. She somehow ended up in the middle of nowhere and didn’t know where to go from here. Tracing her steps back so late in the night didn’t sound like a good idea. Sam was on a hunt and Cas was MIA and that only left the one guy she didn’t want to call. Y/N sat on the side of the road, frustrated and tired. She was sobbing by now, her feet were killing her and she was very cold. After few mins of composing herself, she took a deep breath.

“You can do this Y/N. Just have to call him and get it over with. Just like swallowing a bitter pill.” She told herself and dialled his number.

“What?” His gruff voice snapped at her, making her flinch a little.

“Dean…” She whispered. “I’m..lost.”

“What do you mean you’re lost??” He said, suddenly sounding alert and if she dared hope, a hint of worry. But she quickly brushed it aside. He just didn’t want to lose a hunting partner. Besides, Sam would kill him.

“I was walking and I don’t know where I am. Didn’t pay attention.” Y/N’s voice shook a little.

“Okay, okay. I’ll track your phone, alright? I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sit tight, Y/N.” He said quickly and cut the call.

Y/N was shocked to say the least. She had at least expected some kind of a rude reaction. But he sounded concerned and eager to get to her. Maybe a small part of him did feel guilty?

She was lost in thoughts when the Impala pulled up in front of her. She quickly made her way inside sliding into the passenger seat. The car ride back was tense, and neither of them wanted to say anything. But Y/N could see that Dean was battling himself over something. His knuckles tensed as his fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Thanks for coming” said Y/N, she was hurt and exhausted to be angry at him. She didn’t want to do that anymore. It only hurt her.

Dean didn’t say anything to that. She looked out the window watching the scenery go by. When suddenly the car pulled up on the side. She looked at Dean confused and saw him put his head on the steering wheel and breathing heavily.

“Why’d we stop?”

“Y/N…I…”

Y/N she stayed quiet. She just let him take his time to say what he wanted.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what Dean? The fact that I’m a hooker, or the fact that that’s the only thing interesting about me?”

He shut his eyes tight at that.

“Y/N, I never meant any of the nasty things I said to you.”

“Huh, yeah right. What’s gotten into you Dean? Why the sudden need to be nice?”

“I crossed a line today and I hate that I did. I hate that we fight all the time. I hate the look of pain on your face every time. I know you hate me and you should. I deserve it, especially after today. But I wish we could be friends, maybe even more. I wish we had a do over.”

Y/N was stunned. Of all things to come out of that sinful mouth, she did not expect it to be this. All she could focus on was he maybe wanted to be more than friends, but they were barely even friends. She looked at him and noticed just how tired he looked. His hair was ruffled, he probably kept running his hands through it in anger and guilt. His eyes held pain.

“You know what hurts the most, Dean? You’re the kindest, most generous man I’ve ever met. And yet I’ve never had the privilege of being on the receiving end of it.”

Dean went to say something but stopped when she raised her hand.

“But it’s fine. Because I’ve never treated you with kindness either, and I’d hate to be a hypocrite.” Y/N chuckled dryly.

“What if we started with this whole being kind to each other? Be friends.” He asked cautiously.

Y/N thought it over for a few secs before smiling at him, “I’d love that more than anything.” gaining a smile in return.

“I meant it though.” mumbled Dean after a minute.

“Meant what?”

“That I want to be more than friends. I’ve kinda sorta been in love with you all this time.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at that admission. “W-what?”

“I-I mean… I get that you don’t feel the same! And that’s okay! I just wanted to get it out. It’s been eating me alive for years now.” He said rubbing his face and blushing slightly.

Y/N’s heart was beating fast. He loved her. He’s been in love with her for a while now. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him in for a deep kiss. It took him a while to realise what was happening but soon kissed back just as fiercely.

They pulled away and stared at each other, Dean looked at her with wide , shock filled eyes.

“I’ve been in love with you too, you idiot.” Y/N said with a smile.

“We are both such idiots!” He groaned, “To think we have wasted so much time!”

“Well, we don’t have to waste anymore” She replied.

Dean stared at her with a soft smile. He caressed her face and slowly inched towards her, “Yeah, no more” he whispered against her lips before sealing them with his.

Y/N pulled back and mumbled, “Let’s go home, Dean.”

They drove back to bunker eager to see where this new development would take them and they honestly weren’t disappointed, especially that night in Dean’s room.

_______

A couple of days later had Y/N and Dean goofing around in the kitchen when Sam got back. They had spent the two days talking and getting to know each other better, among other things. And they couldn’t be happier.

Sam was shocked to say the least to watch the two people who couldn’t stand each other be all over each other.

“So you two finally got your heads out of your asses? I leave you alone for two days and this happens.” He smirked proudly at them.

“Shuttup, Sammy. This was a long time coming.” Said Dean looking at Y/N.

“I’m happy for you two” He replied with a grin, then walked towards his room leaving them alone.

Tags below the cut

Tags: @hobby27 @akshi8278

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn x reader #dean winchester x you #reader insert #female reader #angst #fluff

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jumukus · 4 years

Text

A3! Event: Bridal Concerto Chapter 1-5 Translations

Translations under the cut.

Boy: << ...What is this? >>

Older Boy: << It's Jasmine. Smells good, right? >>

Boy: << Yes… It's really pretty and smells good. >>

<< Jasmine… >>

Older Boy: << Fufu. Are you that interested in that flower? If so… >>

<< ...It's done. You can take this home. >>

Boy: << Whoa… a flower bouquet…! Thank you very much! >>

Izumi: I'm back.

Citron: Welcome back!

Izumi: !?

Citron: Were you surprised, Director!? It's a great success!

Izumi: I was wondering who it was… What's that?

Citron: I drew the lottery at the shopping district and won the "fun set"! There are other things beside this one.

Izumi: There really are. Wig and tiara… these are indeed amazing prizes, though it makes you wonder what kind of concept they’re going for.

Citron: I feel like we can use this as props!

Muku: What do you want to drink, Yuki-kun? I think I’m gonna have some te--.

Citron: Please excuse me!

Muku: Huh, whoah!?

Yuki: The heck are you doing?

Muku: I was wondering who it was…!

Citron: Fufu, it's me, Citron! Shalala!

Yuki: Oh, great, now he's flipping his hair for no apparent reason. What's with that, anyway?

Izumi: That's one of the prizes he got from the lottery at the shopping district.

Muku: I see, there are other things as well, huh.

Yuki: Hmmm, a lottery, huh… But well, you look surprisingly mature in that.

Citron: I really like this thing! I'm going to continue wearing this!

Izumi: (Looks like Citron-kun’s new addiction has gotten deeper...)

Itaru: I’m home…

Izumi: Welcome back. Is it just me or do you look kind of tired?

Citron: Are you alright, Itaru?

Yuki: Did something happen?

Muku: Are you busy with work?

Itaru: Nah, actually…

Itaru: (Okay, I finished my work. Let's quickly go home and grind the event.)

(I wonder what's for dinner--.)

Togawa: Chigasaki-kun, do you have a moment?

Itaru: (...Yikes, he really has to call me now of all time.)

What is it, section chief?

Togawa: One of our regular clients is planning to hold a bigger-scale Wedding Fest this year.

I'm in charge of that project, so I was just discussing a few things with the other party, like the stage design and programme.

Itaru: (Do we do that kind of work, though…? We're a trading company.)

(But well, let's just go along with him for now.)

Oh, I see. What kind of plan is it?

Togawa: The plan right now is to exhibit all kind of bridal gowns from all around the world and invite guests from overseas…

But the truth is… the plan that the other party wanted to do the most is this one.

Itaru: This document… "Best-of-Three Bride Contest"?

Togawa: We're going to have the participants take on the role of a bride and act out three different kinds of situations.

Itaru: (Ah… So it’s like the bride version of the "Bridegroom Battle Royale" Tsuzuru and Citron participated before.)

Togawa: The other party wants to have this plan realized no matter what--.

But in order to make that happen, we need to recruit several actors to be the participants' co-stars first.

So I'm wondering whether the theater troupe you're affiliated with can lend us some help.

Itaru: ...I beg your pardon?

Togawa: If you're one of the members, I’m sure they have a pretty good line-up of actors there.

And since we can't afford to spend much money on this… would you do me a favor?

Itaru: Hmm, how should I say this… I'm very happy that you reached out to me, but I’m not the one making the decision here…

Togawa: In exchange for helping us with the contest, I'll let you be the last performers at the event. I'll try to negotiate it with the other party.

Don’t you think that will be a good PR for your troupe?

Itaru: …

Itaru: ...Well, it took longer than expected but that's about it.

Yuki: I see.

Izumi: (Come to think of it, I wonder why Itaru-san's company actively participates in a bridal event…)

Itaru: To put it simply, it's like a variety show version of etiquette proficiency test.

In accordance with the event, it looks like they want to plan something related to wedding.

Izumi: I've gotta admit being the last performers at such a large-scale event will be a good publicity…

Maybe it’s better to accept the offer.

Itaru: I knew you would say that.

I’m gonna talk this out with Sakyo-san as well.

Izumi: Thank you!

Itaru: Alright, I'm gonna change my clothes now.

Muku: Wedding Fest, huh… What a beautiful event…

Citron: Etiquette proficiency test seems fun! I'm berry interested in it!

Yuki: It should be, "very interested," you know. By the way, until when are you going to wear that wig?

Citron: Oh! I've gotten so used to wearing this I forgot to take it off!

Azuma: This sake is delicious. I feel like this is my first time trying this.

Guy: It was included in our regular package the other day.

Azuma: Oh, really? Fufu, it goes well with this snack too.

*phone buzzes*

Guy: Hm? Looks like I got a text.

...Is it from Mika?

…

Azuma: What’s the matter?

Guy: No, it’s nothing.

Azuma: ...Is that so?

Izumi: ...Therefore, we're going to act out specified situations this time around.

Itaru: Director-san, thank you for your cooperation.

Juza: OK.

Azuma: Fufu, I'm looking forward to this. It seems fun.

Itaru: There will be three actors taking the stage at the event.

Objectively speaking, I think Azuma-san and Juza are just the right men for it.

And since my section chief told me to make an appearance, I have to join you two. In the meantime, senpai ran away…

That person is hella good at evading this kind of subject.

Izumi: Then, I'd like to ask Azami-kun to handle the makeup and Citron-kun to escort the winner of the contest.

Azami: Got it.

Citron: Leave it to me!

Itaru: Then, I'd also like to ask Muku to help out as my assistant…

Muku: Okay, I understand!

Itaru: Sorry for making you do this odd-job-like things.

Muku: It’s no problem at all! I'm very interested in this festival, after all. To be able to take part in this event alone has already made me content!

Itaru: God, what an angel… So dazzling.

Juza: So proud of my cousin.

Citron: That’s my son for you!

Azami: He’s not your son, Citron-san.

Itaru: By the way, my section chief told me he had entrusted the duty to deliver the last performance to us.

Izumi: I’m going to have you all go on stage for that!

Azuma: I’m looking forward to both the Best-of-Three Contest and the performance.

Muku: Phew…

Citron: You’re under arrest! You’re under arrest!

Muku: Whoa! You surprised me right there…!

Citron: Sorry, I’ve unintentionally pretended to be Shinsegumi!

Muku: Fufu, Citron-sama looks cool as Shinsegumi!

Citron: What are you reading, Muku?

Muku: The new issue of a shojo manga! It came out just recently.

It’s a very romantic story that centers around royalty. It follows the protagonist whose fiance is actually her first love.

Citron: …

Muku: ...Citron-sama?

Citron: Oops, sorry! It’s nothing.

Muku: Speaking of which, did you decide to stop sporting that hairdo from before, Citron-sama?

Citron: That hair extension actually suits my fancy…

But since no one is surprised by that anymore, it doesn’t feel new. So I took it off.

Muku: I see.

Citron: Now that it has come to this, I’ll have someone else put that on instead. For instance…

…

Muku: ?

Izumi: I’m home.

Tsuzuru: Welcome back. Dinner’s ready.

Izumi: Thanks! Whoa, it looks tasty today too!

Citron: You’re back, Director?

Izumi: Yup, I just got back.

Citron: ...Are you prepared?

Izumi: Huh? I… I guess…? I don’t know what you’re talking about, though.

Citron: Come on!!

Muku: W-Welcome home.

Izumi: Eh!? Muku-kun…!?

Citron: Our prank was a big success!

Tsuzuru: Huh!? What’s with that?

Citron: I have Muku put on the freebies I got the other day!

Muku: On, on second thought, this is surely embarrassing…!

Citron: No, you’re fine! It looks incredibly great on you!

My addiction is never wrong!

Tsuzuru: It should be prediction, not addiction.

Izumi: You really look like a girl.

Tsuzuru: Yeah, indeed… I’ve been considering this since the inner palace play, but maybe I’ll have you take on female roles in future plays.

*bell rings*

Citron: Hm? Who came?

Izumi: Maybe a courier?

Tsuzuru: At this time? I’ll go greet them for now.

Izumi: For real, though… you look so great in this that you don’t look weird at all.

Muku: Sho-should I be happy about this…

Citron: Obviously! You’re very cute! Lemme hug you, pretty Muku!

Muku: Ci-Citron-sama…!

Izumi: (Ahaha, they sure are close.)

Tsuzuru: Hey, hold on! What on Earth are you--.

Izumi: ? Tsuzuru-kun?

*door opens*

???: ...Citronia-sama!

Izumi: !?

???: …

Citron: …

Guy: …

Izumi: Uhhh, alright, they all have left so please tell us what’s your business here…

Leila: ...My name is Leila.

Just as I mentioned earlier, I came from the Kingdom of Zahra.

I’m here to meet Citronia-sama…

Izumi: (Leila-san… is very beautiful. Furthermore, she’s really fluent in Japanese.)

Ummm, can I ask what’s your relationship with Citron-kun…?

Leila: ...I’m Citronia-sama’s fiancee.

Izumi: !?

Izumi: Fiancee!?

Guy: A fiancee candidate, to be precise.

With his status as the prince of Zahra, Citronia already had a fiancee candidate since childhood.

But both me and Citronia are pretty much clueless when it comes to details of the candidate.

I did hear from Mika that someone claiming to be Citronia’s fiancee is heading to Japan. To think that he was actually telling the truth...

Izumi: (Wow, as expected of a royal family… They do have a fiancee since childhood.)

Guy: However, Citronia is no longer in line for the throne.

I believe talks about engagement should be over as well...

Leila: It doesn't matter whether or not Citronia-sama is in line for the throne. I want to marry him.

Izumi: (She looks very determined…)

Citron: ...Sorry. I’m very happy to learn of your feelings, but I can’t marry you.

Leila: Why? I’ll do anything for you.

I’ve been attending marriage preparation class and learning a lot of subjects. I’ve also been studying your beloved Japanese, Citronia-sama.

If there are other things I need to do, I’m more than willing to do it.

Citron: ...Thank you. But still, I can’t marry you.

Leila: …

...Is the woman just now your lover, Citronia-sama?

Citron: Eh?

Izumi: Woman…

(This is just my hunch, but don’t tell me she’s referring to Muku-kun who was crossdressing…!?)

(I can’t blame her for thinking that way though, especially since Citron-kun was hugging him just now…)

Citron: ...That’s right.

Izumi: Eh--!?

Citron: ...Director.

Izumi: (...Guess he’s trying to settle this thing down for the time being.)

(Let’s see how it goes for now.)

Citron: I have a lover. Therefore, I cannot marry you.

Leila: ...I see.

Izumi: (I wonder if Leila-san accepts it. She should be giving up…)

Leila: ...YOU’RE SORELY MISTAKEN IF YOU THINK I’M GOING TO GIVE UP JUST LIKE THAT!!

Izumi: !?

Leila: I can't accept it! If it comes to this, I'd like to challenge her to a head-on battle!

Citron: Oh! She has turned into a completely different person!

Guy: She's really passionate.

Izumi: B-But how are you going to…

*door opens*

Itaru: Director-san, I wanna discuss the "Best-of-Three Bride Contest" I told you before…

...Hm? Sorry, are you in the middle of something now?

Izumi: Yes, very much!

Leila: Best-of-Three Bride Contest… That's it!

Izumi: Pardon me?

Leila: If I win against that woman in that contest… Please come back to Zahra and marry me!

Izumi: Eeeh!? That's just too unreasonable…

Itaru: What kind of development is going on here?

Leila: But if I lose… I'm going to pay an appropriate amount of money as a reward.

In addition, I won't approach Citronia-sama anymore.

Izumi: Even if you say that, there's no way we will accept--.

Leila: Let's talk about the details later. I'm going to leave this number here. Be sure to call me up.

I shall take my leave now. Excuse my intrusion.

*door closes*

Izumi: She, She's gone…

Citron: …

Izumi: And that's what happened...

Azuma: It turned into such a fuss, huh.

Azami: F-Fi.. Fiancee… are you for real?

Citron: Being popular sure is tough. Sighs…

Juza: You sure she ain't just joking?

Itaru: I don't think so. I just took a look at the participants list and her name is there.

And it looks like she's one of the overseas guests who are invited to the fest.

Izumi: That explains it, then…!

Juza: Oh, so that's why she came to visit Citron-san who's in Japan.

Azuma: Being a guest means she has quite the social status and probably an authority too--.

So it may not be impossible for her to… bring him back to Zahra.

Azami: It that really possible, though?

Izumi: Who knows…

Itaru: I heard she's an heiress of a famous corporation in Zahra.

Izumi: (That explains why she gives off the vibe of a well-educated person.)

Muku: …

Izumi: At any rate, we're going to talk with Leila-san some more in regards of the contest…

Muku: ...I'm going to do it.

Izumi: Eh?

Muku: I know there's a chance this may be nothing but a joke.

But if Citron-sama will be forcibly taken away by a group men dressed in black because I reject the challenge…

Then, we won't be able to meet again because they forbid him to get in touch with a dessicated lotus root like me…!

Azami: There's no way that would happen. And calm down.

Itaru: I think we should have senpai or someone else stay by our side in case what Muku imagined does occur.

If Muku takes on the challenge, I'll help out… So what should we do?

Juza: I'll help out too.

Citron: No problem here! I'll try my best!

Azami: Well, it's your call. You're the one involved in this, after all.

Muku: ...I'll do it.

Izumi: Got it, if that's what you want.

Azuma: It may be better not to announce that Muku is going to participate while dressing up as a woman.

Itaru: We need to come up with a fake name, then.

Citron: Let me think about it!

Azuma: Fufu, I feel like you're going to come up with an adorable and fun name.

Izumi: (Guy-san said he already contacted Leila-san, so… all we need to do now is gear up for D-day.)

(But…)

Citron: "My honey, your miso soup is so delicious today too."

Muku: "Really? Thank you."

Azami: "You always say it's delicious as long as it's mom's cooking, dad."

Citron: "It really is delicious, since you put your love in it, honey."

"Your tasteless soup that's the result of you forgetting to add seasoning, your red hot stew that is served after putting too much red peppers…"

"Your salty cake and your cookies that are as hard as stones… my sweetheart, all of them are supreme cuisine to me."

Muku: "Oh darling…"

Citron: "Back when I first tasted your cooking, I felt like an electric shock running through me. God made us find each other."

Izumi: Hey, stop stop! What's with that play!?

Citron: No, no, we're practicing properly.

Izumi: (Sighs… it's been like this for a while now. Will we be all right at the bride contest?)

Masterlist | Chapter 6-10 >

#a3!#a3! translation #summer troupe #spring troupe #winter troupe #autumn troupe #itaru chigasaki #tsuzuru minagi #citron #muku sakisaka #yuki rurikawa #juza hyodo #azami izumida #azuma yukishiro #guy

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fortune-fool02 · 4 years

Text

Innocence and Purity

Gyro Zeppeli x unicorn reader

Requested by: @ atlantianchronicle

Warnings: slight angst, fluff

The unicorn in this is like the one from The Last Unicorn, just so you all know. Please enjoy.

Not many people believed in unicorns and it was understandable as to why. No one had seen one nor was there any evidence to proved they did even exist. But there was a reason for this. The unicorn species had been wiped out to near extinction because of humans and their greed for the power that unicorns held.

And those very few that did remain alive vanished into the unknown, using whatever magic they had to avoid humans at any cost. Some went off to the deepest parts of forests where humans rarely ventured, other simply disappeared altogether. Sad as it was, humans’ knowledge of these majestic creatures faded away, disregarding them as nothing but stories and fairy-tales.

Though, there were a very few who still believed in those creatures and still hunted them down for their magic. Whether it be to sell or for selfish reasons. And those selfish reasons was what intertwined the paths of a human and a unicorn.

***

“C’mon! Boss wants this thing in his place ASAP!” One of the humans shouted, watching as four of the other humans shoved the creature into the small cart. Beautiful alabaster skin ruined by ugly bruising and cuts from their weapons from when she tried to defend herself. Legs bound by gripping rope that gnawed at her joints, locking them in place to keep her still and a sheath forced onto her horn in an attempt to contain it and stop her from striking at them. Which she had done a good handful of times.

[Name] was no dumb animal as the humans believed. She was intelligent enough understand the language of humans as well as speak some herself. That was one factor many humans had forgotten about her kind. The forest around her was cut off by a sheet thrown over the carriage, blocking off the sunlight and encasing the unicorn in darkness. Lowering her head, the waves of sorrow washed over her body. She had been captured and now was destined to suffer the same horrific fate that others of her kind shared.

Well, that would have been the case if, part way through the journey, something happened. Shouting and yelling awoke the unicorn from her dreamless sleep, setting her nerves on edge at the familiar sounds of violence clashing around the carriage though she was blind to it by the sheet.

But, despite this, she was not blind to the power she could sense. An unmistakable power that was beyond anything humans could hope to understand. A lightness that matched that of the sun’s and the moon’s. Beautiful, incredible. Holy. Before anything could be done, a pale blue light engulfed the unicorn’s body as if the moon itself was trapped inside of the carriage with her, demanding to be freed.

***

Gyro gave a sigh of relief, dusting himself off and returning his Steel Ball to its holster. Bodies surrounded the area, the terrorists proving to be less than a challenge armed with nothing but guns. No Stand users. His attention shifted to the carriage with the large sheet draping over it, a clear sign that they were transporting something they didn’t want others to see and that made Gyro want to see it.

As he and Johnny approached it, Johnny stopped and snapped his attention to his arm. A bright glow radiated from the Corpse part within his arm, shocking both males at this sudden reaction. A similar glow radiated from within the carriage as well, casting the silhouette of a horse that shifted somewhat before the glow from both Johnny’s arm and the carriage faded as quickly as they appeared.

“What the Hell was that?” Gyro asked, throwing a look at Johnny who just stared at his arm confused.

“I-I don’t know.” he admitted, “I think... there might be something in that carriage that triggered it, maybe?” Both men turned their attention back to the carriage, unsure of what to expect that could be hiding under that sheet. Well, one way to find out. Gyro approached the carriage, one hand grabbing the sheet whilst the other reached for his Steel Ball again -just in case he needed it- and removed the sheet.

“What the fuck...?” Gyro’s words trailed off as shock painted his face a little. There inside the carriage, bound like an animal, was a woman unlike any woman he has seen before. Alabaster skin that should have been flawless was bruised from the weapons and raw from the rope that dug into her delicate skin. Silky [Hair colour] locks spilled past her shoulders and over her bare body, acting like a curtain to shield herself from his eyes.

Throwing a glance over at Johnny, Gyro gave him an uncertain look. He was expecting a horse or something from that silhouette they saw, not a naked woman. “Uh, Johnny,” the Italian called, giving the woman another glance “Do you have a blanket or a jacket or something on you?” After a moment of rooting through his supplies, Johnny tossed him a spare jacket he had and Gyro caught it before entering the carriage.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked the [Hair colour] woman, gently shaking her shoulder then laying the jacket over her; the jacket was just big enough to cover everything that needed covering but she would need clothes or she will freeze. As Gyro started to cut away at her bindings, she shifted a little, rousing from her unconscious state.

“Don’t fidget or I’ll end up cutting you by mista-” He was cut off when he saw her face. Her features were nothing short of stunning with her doe-like [Eye colour] orbs that sparkled in a way that no human’s could; glowing with an innocence and purity that he had never seen before. Smooth skin that would put fine pottery to shame but the feature that mostly caught his attention was the odd scar on her forehead. It mimicked a star in shape and pinkish, a clearly fresh scar. As he gazed at her, the Corpse part in his eye flickered, casting a light over the woman and what Gyro saw made the breath from his lungs be snatched away.

Where the woman sat, he could see the translucent image of a horse that bared a form of resemblance to the woman sitting before him. Same eyes. Same skin colour. Same delicate appearance. Hell, even the same hair colour. But where the woman’s scar was sat a horn.

This... this wasn’t possible. Was it? This woman was... a unicorn? They actually exist? That would explain the covered carriage and all but why did she look human instead of- It clicked in Gyro’s head. Johnny’s Corpse part must have reacted with the unicorn as he was closer to the carriage when it happened, and that somehow transformed her into a human.

Her eyes drifted down to her hands, looking at them as if she had never seen them before. Confusion painted her features as she examined her new body, Gyro only kneeled there, not quite sure what to do.

“W-What did do you?” her voice was soft and fragile, thin sorrow stitched into her words that made Gyro’s chest clench with a cold guilt of sorts. He slipped the knife back into his pocket,

“We...” he threw another glance at Johnny who was watching all of this from outside the carriage, the steel bars allowing him to have front row seats to this, and he was just as shocked and unsure of what to do as Gyro. “Um, we saved you from those terrorists.” the Italian forced out, hoping that the answer was something that she would be happy to hear though the lost expression on her face told him otherwise.

She looked lost and confused, scared even. Her beautiful [Eye colour] eyes examined him then her own body again, her hands resting against the floor as she pushed herself to stand. Her legs weak and strange as she had never used her back legs in such a way before, resulting in her stumbling and falling if Gyro hadn’t caught her.

“Hey, hey careful. Don’t push yourself like that.” his tone was coated in a softness that even he didn’t know he could hold. This creature -this majestic, stunning creature- was lost in the new world she was cruelly thrown into and now, trapped in a body that wasn’t even hers, because of the Corpse part, he couldn’t deny the twisting feeling that knotted his stomach.

“C’mon, let’s get you outta here.” he said, gently helping her to her feet and taking slow steps for her to adjust to her new body. His eyes glanced up at the sky, they had a few hours of sunlight left, it that, and they needed some place to camp for the night. Somewhere safe.

“What’s your name? I’m Gyro and this is Johnny.” The [Hair colour] woman looked between the two men and Johnny could feel a similar sense of nipping guilt that Gyro did. This was what the Corpse part was capable of? But, most importantly, why did Valentine want a unicorn? It was obvious that those people belonged to the Government and therefore Valentine, but why did he want this creature so badly?

“My name is [Name].” Even her name sounded wonderful and suited her perfectly. Slowly, they helped her onto the back of Slow Dancer and she rested her head against Johnny’s back, exhausted from the recent events.

***

Finding a spot to camp wasn’t that difficult, thankfully, and soon enough, Gyro had gotten a fire going. [Name] sat in front of the fire, watching it dance and twirl, displaying its golden colours proudly - because it had every reason to be proud, it was in its form, free, unlike herself.

No words had been shared between them since they found her hours ago, they had no idea what to say to her. No idea how to help her but they knew they couldn’t leave her. Gyro looked over at her as he poured some of the coffee in a cup for her. He didn’t even know if she would drink it but the least he could do was offer. He approached her and held the cup for her,

“Here you go. It’s coffee.” She hesitantly took the cup from him and looked at it, sniffing it a little then took a small sip.

“Thank you.” Gyro smiled at that, plopping down beside her. A silence hung between them, broken only by the whispers of nature and the crackling of the fire. “Why did you help me? Why didn’t you take me like the other humans did?” [Name] asked him, her [Eye colour] orbs sparkling with wonder that pressed against that thin veil of sorrow.

Gyro gave her a look as if she asked him a weird question, “Isn't it obvious? You’re a unicorn, you don’t deserve to be captured.” Surprise flashed across her face at his answer, there was no hidden deception or lies under his words. He was genuine. Despite her new form, [Name] still retained some of her former senses, such as knowing when something meant harm. This human and his friend, they were no threat to her.

That, itself, put her worry at ease for a bit. However, if she remained in this form, she was cut off from the world she knew. Her magic locked away behind a wall that she couldn’t break down no matter how hard she tried. She felt hollow and empty.

“Thank you for saving me then, Gyro and Johnny.” Normally, [Name] would never thank a human for what they had done to her species but these two had saved her from an awful fate and they deserved her gratitude for that. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to see Gyro giving her a warm smile that outmatched the flame’s warmth.

There was a light in his emerald coloured eyes that was unlike anything she had seen before, something strong and determined but was not twisted by need or corruption like she saw in the eyes of so many humans she has crossed. Was this the human spirit she was seeing? If so, then it was... beautiful.

Slowly, she leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling Gyro’s body tense slightly before relaxing. “Don’t worry, [Name]. We’ll find a way to turn you back.” It was clear by the tone that was branded into his voice that that was a promise.

Ironic. She had spent so long fearing humans and now here she was trusting humans to help her return to her true form. Perhaps not all humans were the twisted, greed-driven monsters she believed?

#gyro #gyro zeppeli #jojo bizarre adventure #gyro x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #gyro steel ball run #steel ball run x reader #steel ball run #unicorn au #unicorn reader

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firstumcschenectady · 3 years

Text

“On Being Pruned” based on 1 John 4:7-21 and John 15:1-8

While I was in college I lead a group of new freshman on an outdoor adventure trip. We were assigned to trail maintenance in a very remote part of Northern New Hampshire. It was a beautiful place and a wonderful trip, but it turns out that a lot of trail maintance is actually killing small trees so that they don't grown on the trail and I really deeply hated that. No matter how many times I reminded myself that by maintaining the trail and giving people a chance to experience that pristine wilderness I was PROTECTING most of the trees, I still felt uncomfortable with each one I killed.

Similarly, I'm not particularly good at pruning. I'm so afraid of going too far that I don't go far enough. It would be enjoyable to claim that this is related to the value, “don't hurt living things unless you have to” but that fails to notice that things you prune are things that NEED pruning. Pruning is a source of abundant life.

According to Gospel commentaries, grapevines are things that need pruning. The Five Gospels says, “Vines do not have branches, contrary to popular usage, but 'canes.' Each year canes are snipped from the vines and piled in the vineyard to be burned. … The vines will not bear good fruit, or fruit in abundance, if they are not pruned annually.”1 The metaphor loving writer of the Gospel of John suggests this is true of the followers of the way of Jesus as well. We too need regular pruning to “bear fruit.”

I suspect many of us feel similarly about pruning ourselves as I do about pruning any other living thing. It is uncomfortable, it is done with caution, we don't want to go to far. And that means that often we don't prune quite far enough.

This may feel like an unfortunate time to come across this Gospel, because the impact of the pandemic has been a desire to return to “normal” and profound objections to the ways our lives have been “pruned” from the outside beyond our control. But here is the Gospel anyway, and when we're honest we note that even this awful pruning has had SOME silver linings.

Now, in John's metaphor, God is the gardener, and God is the one doing the pruning. We are fairly passive to the pruning. We are definitely NOT in charge of self-pruning. :) Phew. Likewise, we are not in charge of fruit production. Fruit comes from being connected to Jesus, and well pruned by God, and we are mostly PASSIVE fruit bearers. Fruit or lack there of isn't really our fault. We are tended, rooted, and pruned to be the best fruit bearers we can be, and we can simply BE and God's goodness will work through us.

Nice.

While I think that idea is incomplete, I also think it is one worthy of consideration.

Many of us TRY REALLY HARD ALL THE TIME, and this suggests that we can let go and God's goodness will keep flowing. That is an important truth, if incomplete.

So if God is the gardener and the pruner, then who are we when we resist pruning? I suspect that we are vine “canes” that are holding on for dear life to canes that have already been snipped and berating ourselves that we can't bring them back to life. There are these dead, decaying branches and we're holding them in place willing them to grow again, and in doing so, missing the new life springing up within us.

Several years ago I watched a TED talk by Dan Gilbert, a psychology professor at Harvard entitled “The Psychology of Your Future Self.” Gilbert's ideas have stayed with me ever since. He opens his talk by saying:

At every stage of our lives we make decisions that will profoundly influence the lives of the people we're going to become, and then when we become those people, we're not always thrilled with the decisions we made. So young people pay good money to get tattoos removed that teenagers paid good money to get. Middle-aged people rushed to divorce people who young adults rushed to marry. Older adults work hard to lose what middle-aged adults worked hard to gain. On and on and on. The question is, as a psychologist, that fascinates me is, why do we make decisions that our future selves so often regret?

I'm hoping you already see how this relates to letting God's pruning without fighting it! He states his thesis directly (don't you love that?), “What I want to convince you today is that all of us are walking around with an illusion, an illusion that history, our personal history, has just come to an end, that we have just recently become the people that we were always meant to be and will be for the rest of our lives. “ As you might hope, Gilbert proves this point along the way, and then goes on to conclude:

Most of us can remember who we were 10 years ago, but we find it hard to imagine who we're going to be, and then we mistakenly think that because it's hard to imagine, it's not likely to happen. ...when people say "I can't imagine that," they're usually talking about their own lack of imagination, and not about the unlikelihood of the event that they're describing.

The bottom line is, time is a powerful force. It transforms our preferences. It reshapes our values. It alters our personalities. We seem to appreciate this fact, but only in retrospect. Only when we look backwards do we realize how much change happens in a decade. It's as if, for most of us, the present is a magic time. It's a watershed on the timeline. It's the moment at which we finally become ourselves. Human beings are works in progress that mistakenly think they're finished. The person you are right now is as transient, as fleeting and as temporary as all the people you've ever been. The one constant in our life is change. 2

That is, pruning happens whether we want it to or not, and either we can make peace with it and let it be, or we can fight with it, but it won't change the fact that things change.

While I prefer it when I can read it with some verses missing, 1 John 4 is a very important chapter in the Bible for most people I know because it says the thing they believe most, “God is love.” It says it strongly too, “No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and God's love is perfected in us. ...Those who say, "I love God," and hate their siblings, are liars; for those who do not love a sibling whom they have seen,

cannot love God whom they have not seen.” (11, 20). Perhaps this fits the idea that loving God and loving other people are two sides of the same coin, inseparable though they can appear to be different. These claims about God, that God is love, and that loving people is a way of loving God, are the lens through which I see the entirety of the Bible. I remain grateful that it is there, and available to be used.

John chapter 15 goes on to sound a whole lot like 1 John 4. The Vine and Branches metaphor morphs quickly to point out that the fruit that God is looking for is the practice of abiding in love. So both of them point the question: what impairs love and what encourages it? If we are being continually pruned by God, what helps us let go of what we're done with, and what helps us connect with what God is up to next? Or, in the metaphor, how do we let go of the pruned and dead branches so there is space for new growth?

Perhaps the best thing we can do for now is notice. We can notice what has been pruned, so we can let it go and we can notice what is growing so we can watch it growing. Perhaps this passage is exactly right for right now. We aren't the gardener, we aren't in charge, but we can – at least – stop impeding the Gardener's work and instead notice what it is.May it be so. Amen

1 Robert W. Funk, Roy W Hoover, and The Jesus Seminar, The Five Gospels: The Search for the Authentic Words of Jesus (HarperOneUSA, 1993), page 453.

2 Dan Gilbert, “The Psychology of Your Future Self” Ted Talk, found at https://www.ted.com/talks/dan_gilbert_the_psychology_of_your_future_self/transcript?utm_campaign=social&utm_content=talk&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_term=soci al-science#t-308201 given on March 2014 accessed on April 29, 2021.

#Thinking Church #Progressive Christianity #FUMC Schenectady #Schenectay #UMC #Sorry about that homophobic UM #Rev Sara E Baron #Johannine community #God Is Love #Faith Statement #Easter Season #Pruning #Just be the branches #Notice

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malachite-isms · 4 years

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Your Kiss is on Their List Pt 5: Yang Xiao Long

This was familiar. This mental soup of lingering ecstacy and satisfactory subordination, she hadn’t always known it, but it was normal for her now. It wasn’t overly often that this would happen, all parties involved had things to do of course, but it was common enough that there was a sequence of events she was used to going through. As were they.

First, she would go to the club, that fateful club where she had made an impressive, if a bit unnecessary, show of force on the establishment’s security detail and owner in lieu of getting the information she needed. There, she would do some drinking, maybe a bit of dancing, or even, more recently, shoot some pool in that newly renovated nook beside the bar. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing one couldn’t find in most other nightclubs in cities like Vale. Great music though.

Then, the odd dance would begin. They would approach her, those bedeviling women, and they would flirt like they’d only met once or twice before and hit it off. They’d give her an opening line, she’d shoot something charming back and they’d go back and forth like that for a while. Then they’d invite her to the back, she’d push through the cool rush in her chest and say yes at an appropriate volume. They’d then escort her to the back, and she would positively relish the jealous looks she’d get from charmless men. Very few got the honor of meeting up with the twins in private regularly, save for Yang Xiao Long and one other.

Then they’d lead her to their room, lavishly furbished with leather furniture, modern art, and the most well-stuffed bed she’d ever been on. It was always just a little chilly in there; not cold enough for an additional layer, but you’d always be doing the little things to warm up ever so slightly. Things like crossing your arms, or being close to someone else. Part of their setup, no doubt. There, one of them would sit her on the couch and heap compliments on her while the other sat on an adjacent chair and methodically apply vibrant red lipstick. She’d catch her staring, she’d always catch her staring, and the other would know exactly when to stop talking and redden her own lips as Yang was caught in a suggestive gaze. They were frighteningly good at what they did.

Then, with gentle tugs, they’d pull her from the couch to the bed and begin the main event. They’d lean on either side of her and start with her cheeks. Gentle, lingering kisses that let her relish in the contact and warmth. They’d refresh the kiss-shaped stamp they had on her brain. They would work their way to her nose, and her forehead, and her temples, and her jaw, and her neck. Then they’d help her remove her jacket and scarf, she’d often already in a trance at that point. With only her tube top remaining on her torso, they’d kiss her neck, then her shoulders, then they’d let her slowly fall to the bed as they worked their way down her arms and to her hands.

At that point, they would ask her the question; how far would they go tonight? Yang would have to tell them, with a please. They never demanded one, never even asked for one, but she’d always say please. They’d always oblige her, if she asked for a full coat, they paint her red from head to toe. Sometimes, when she was in the mood, she’d ask for something along the lines of “the full package,” and they’d oblige her.

Finally, they’d be done, and she’d be speechless. It had been a long time since the first occurrence of this, but she would always be speechless, staring at the ceiling, and simply plastered in impressions of lips, residue of blissful kisses that would put her firmly on cloud nine, regardless of whether or not her pants stayed on. They’d leave to the adjoining bathroom and clean themselves up.

Recently, if they hadn’t gone all that far, another step would occasionally come up. She would, without cleaning herself up, pick herself off the bed and wobble her way to the bar. She would be too love-drunk to care about the bewildered stares she’d get from the jealous and the envious, and order herself a lite beer, or even a water. Something simple to revitalize her system. There, she’d be joined by the only one to be able to truly sympathize with her, the only one who could claim to be in her shoes more often than Yang herself.

Tonight was one of those nights, and Cody Baxter was that individual.

Cody was, in many ways, Yang’s polar opposite. A passive pacifist who never looked to instigate anything aside from chill vibes. He was a writer by trade, and wouldn’t consider himself charming. Which made it as baffling to him as it was to many others when the infamously seductive Malachite Twins rented out a space in the club for the guy and showered him with affection whenever they got the chance. The only one more often covered in lipstick from the twins than Yang was Cody.

Though tonight, he was clean and Yang was the recent target.

“Y’know,” he started “,we gotta stop meeting like this.”

“What,” she shot back, words slightly slurred “,you think you could hold up any better?”

They both chuckled like old war veterans, warmly recalling what others would consider nightmares.

“I take it this was your way of getting a ‘lightened sentence’ as it were?” he asked with a glance at the blonde.

“Yyyyyyou could say that I guess.” She took a swig of beer. “If what they did to my team was their version of going easy, I’d rather this,” she gestured to her marked self “,than whatever they were planning for an old vet like me.”

“Y’know, you say that,” he said, melancholy slowly entering his voice “,but I don’t think either of us handle them better now than when we got got for the first time.”

“Oum, the first time...”

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

That club was so nice on her first visit, and cleaned up so nice the second, why not go again just for fun?

She was owed a drink, after all. Yang strutted into the club, the music was back, the patrons were back, and Junior was back. Back, too, were those twins who she never got to be properly introduced to.

With strawberry sunrise in hand, Yang took a seat between them at the bar. This place was worth being a regular at, best to ingratiate herself with the staff, especially the boss’s right hand girls.

But there was two of them so... right and left hand? Anyway.

“W’hey there!” she opened “So, I’m not so great at apologies, so how about I just buy you ladies a round?”

The two haughty women rolled their eyes and nodded in acquiescence.

Yang signaled to the bartender who promptly slid some fancy drinks to the twins, their favorites, Yang presumed.

“So, dunno if you’re cool enough with me for this, but would you mind if I got your names?”

A heavy pause followed.

“Melanie.”

“Miltiades.”

Yang was thoroughly surprised. She would’ve bet her bike that, no, they were not cool enough with her yet. Might as well strengthen her advantage then.

“Well, I gotta say, Melanie, Miltiades,” holy shit, did she just nail the red one’s name on the first try? “you girls are pretty damn good fighters.

Apparently, the praise was enough for the twins to deign her with their gazes instead of cold shoulders.

“I mean, most people have to fall back on their semblances when I go on the attack, but you two? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you guys didn’t even raise your aura when I hit you, did you?”

Another heavy silence.

“Knowledge is power,” Melanie said plainly.

“Uhhh... huh?”

“If we used our semblance for every punk with their head in their ass,” Miltiades clarified “,people could scout us for planned attacks.”

“Not that you’d know anything about that.” They scoffed in unison.

Ouch.

“W-well,” Yang tried to get back on balance “,I’ll be the first to tell you, I have a lot of muscles that might be the strongest,” she flexed her arms to drive the point home “,but my brain ain’t in the running!”

Self-deprecating humor, she didn’t use it often, but this seemed like a good time to bust it out. Some humility never hurt when trying to earn some forgiveness, right?

*chu*

Yang felt what happened, heard what happened, but her brain needed some time to process it. she looked to each of her biceps and found a red lipstick-imprint on each of them and a twin caressing an arm each.

Yang’s face lit up like a traffic light, but no words came out. Noises escaped her mouth for sure, but they were most definitely not words.

“You know, for as hot-headed as you are,” Melanie said, pausing to kiss Yang’s forearm “,you definitely have a charm about you.”

More noises, no words.

A soft hand cupped her cheek and turned her toward its owner; Miltiades, who had closed the distance and was inches away from her face.

“Y’know, you’re so cute, we can’t stay mad at you. How about we get away from the crowds so we can... get to know you better?”

There was a heavy silence.

Without taking her eyes off Miltiades, Yang picked up her strawberry sunrise, downed it in one go and croaked out “Sure.”

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

“Well if it isn’t our two favorite patrons!”

Melanie’s peppy arrival snapped Yang out of her recollection.

“Heyo, Mel,” Cody greeted the twin “,to what do we owe the honor?”

“Just a quick bit of correspondence we would like our blonde friend to deliver.”

Curious, Yang turned to the pair fully to find Miltiades holding out a business card. She took it, read it, and her eyes widened.

“Uhh... girls?” she said with trepidation in her voice “,I don’t wanna tell you how to go about your business, but this... this might not be the best idea.”

“Yang, for real, we appreciate the concern,” Miltiades said with uncharacteristic bluntness given their recent escapades “,but we’ve done our research. Trust us, we’ve planned this one out thoroughly. We know what we’re doing.”

“If you say so.” Yang looked down at the lipstick-stained card. “Better brace yourself, vomit-boy.”

#RWBY #Yang Xiao Long #Malachite Twins #Cody Baxter #OC

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razorblade180 · 4 years

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Twin Snowflakes pt10: Expedited Exam pt1

“Thank you miss!” a group of three kids say with crumbs on their face and new red coats. Summer kneels down and wipes the middle child’s face, making him giggle. No problem little ones. I wish I could do more but this is all I have for now. Stay warm and go back to that that nice man’s mechanic shop if you ever need help okay?

“Okay.” They give her a big hug before running off.

Summer:Phew! That makes twenty five. I wish I had brought more money. Starting to run low.

Winter:You could swipe your card.

Summer:I never bring it down here. That little boy just now, last time he stole it.

Winter:What!?

Summer:Yeah it caught me by surprise when it happened the first time. Hehe It’s a good thing a little kid with a SDC credit card is highly suspicious. Those three tried buying an entire grocery story.

Winter:And you still let him hug you?

Summer:Everyone needs a good hug. Now let’s go to the la-

“Ms?” A small voice called out her from behind her w gave Summer a little scare. It was a little girl’s doing. Her face was all dirty and her black hair was unkept. Tiredness was in her big golden eyes.

Summer:H...hi. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you okay? What’s your name.

Ruth:M..my is Ruth. *shivering*

Summer:Ruth huh? Where did you come from.

Ruth:My parents they....lost all their money. So they lost me too.

Winter:*frowning* That’s...terrible. They didn’t even give you to law enforcement or an orphanage?

Ruth:They did, but it’s hard there. I don’t like it at all. So I left.

Summer:You look cold. *unzipping jacket*

Winter:What are you-

Summer wrapped her over sized jacket around the kid. She couldn’t be older than twelve. Maybe even ten. The warm fire dust glowed and made Ruth’s eyes widen. Summer smiledat the reaction. “Pretty cool right?” A sudden weight rested on her back. She looked up to see Winter standing over them both without her military coat on. Summer chuckled bashfully at Winter’s exhausted expression.

Summer:Whoops. I’m probably stressing you out a little huh?

Winter:More than a little. Better safe than sorry.

Ruth:Th...Thank you.

Summer:The cold is a dangerous thing. Can’t let it get too close now can we? This might not fit you but hey, it’ll make a good blanket this way. Tell me, do you know the name of the orphanage?

Ruth:S...Saint Harold’s.

Summer:I’ll tell you what. If you go back there then I’ll promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure it gets a bunch of nice things so you won’t want to runaway. I might not look like it, but I’m super good at getting nice things.

Ruth:You’ll do that?

Summer:Of course! I would never lie, it would ruin my image.

Winter:And you were raised better than that.

Summer:I was getting to that part hehe. So, do we have a deal little lady?

Ruth:....You’re really gonna help out.

Summer:It’s an Arc promise. That’s worth like a hundred pinky promises. But if you want more convincing then we can make it a hundred and one.

She takes off one glove and holds out pinky in front her then wiggles it. Ruth simply stare at for a moment before it registers that she’s supposed to do it back. The tiny girl extends her pinky and watches Summer curl them around each other and give it a little tug. Something about the whole situation makes Ruth smile deep down. ‘This lady, she’s so sweet. Like an Angel.’

Summer:There we go. A hundred and one promises. Now do we have a deal?

Ruth:Y...Yes ma’am! Can you walk back with me?

Summer:I-

Oh yes, I wouldn’t mind seeing such a place. Every floor, every room, child....

......

Winter:Summer?

Summer:Huh? Sorry....spaced out for a second.

Ruth:Wow, your pinky is really cold.

Summer*lets go* Sorry about that. *puts on glove* As much as I would love to, I have to go do something really important. It’s another promise I have to keep. My Auntie would be more than happy to though; right Winter?

Winter:Are you sure?

Summer:Don’t worry about me. We’ll go to the lake some other time. I should be heading home anyways. I’ll someone and wait somewhere warm.

Winter:.....

Summer:Do I have to make a promise with you too?

Winter:I believe you, be careful though. Now then Ruth, you wanna hold my hand or be carried?

Ruth:*pouts* I am way too old to be carried.

Winter:A big girl? Okay then. Lead the way then.

Ruth:*grabs her hand* Foward march!

Winter:Hehe looks like I found a little trooper too. *walking off*

Summer:(On my own yet again.)

We both know that’s not true...when are you ever truly alone?

Summer:(Shut it....)

xxxx

“Order up. One hot chocolate, extra steaming for Schnee?”

“Thanks..” Summer said tossing what little cash she had left on the counter.

One of these days those are gonna make you f-

Summer takes a long sip of the beverage to the point she tips her head back a little. The barista’s jaw left open in amazement. “D..doesn’t that burn?” Summer finally puts the cup away and down on the counter. “If only.”

The sound of automated bells went off as the front door open. “There’s my niece; isn’t it a school day?” She turned around to see her uncle in a pristine white suit and red tie with a ice blue shirt under it. His hair was combed to the side and most importantly, his face was free of facial hair.

Summer:Hey uncle Whitley. Oh you know how school and I mix. We don’t. You look nice. Wait are you heading to work? I could’ve called someone else to pick me up.

Whitley:It’s fine. Not like they can fire me for being late. Besides, I was already picking up someone else. *steps aside*

Nick:......

Summer:.....Before you give me the “go to school” lecture, can you buy me another drink?

Nick:....I would give you that speech, but I have a better one in mind.

Summer:Do I still get a refill?

xxxx

Summer:That’s insane Nicholas. *sips drink*

Nick:Or maybe it’s genius.

Whitley:It sounds perfect insane time me.

Nick:Hey! This is a back of the limo conversation.

Whitley:I should hit the brakes for that but have it your way.

Summer:He’s right though. Just take the normal exam. You’re just gonna use the free time you created to do more work. Do you know what taking a break is?

Nick:No but I know the answer to all questions on the science test! Do you?

Summer:Yeah. Because I can learn everything in class the day it’s presented.

Nick:You should take tougher classes.

Summer:Gross. Learn to optimize learning. Maybe if you relaxed regularly then your brain could absorb information easier.

Nick:Never! This could be a win on multiple levels you see? I get more things done, Valerie feels even for me saving her-

Summer:Saving her?

Nick:She almost got ran over by some idiot driver on the way to school.

Summer:WHAT!?

Nick:Yeah it was crazy. It was a mustang with a bird on the side or something. That’s not the point. You also get a win because then you don’t have be in the women’s locker room and deal with that drama; which I wish you told someone about.

Summer:I mean.....I told Valerie

Nick:Ok well, I wish you told me.

Summer:Why?

Nick:Be...because........

Summer:?

The limo went silent and the boy seemed more frayed then usual l. He rubbed his fingers through his long messy hair before pulling out fifty lien and holding it front of Summer. “Please take it.” It wasn’t bribe money to help him. No, it was what they always did when they wanted a conversation topic to die.

Summer:The Throwaway Question? What is so hard about answering what I said.

Nick:Please just take the money and forget about it? I don’t have the energy to have that talk so let’s not have it. I always accept your money.

Summer:....*takes money* You get off easy this time but be ready if this topic gets brought up again.

Nick:*leans against window* I know I know. So, you really aren’t gonna help me with this? It’s perfect practice for the tournament for the both of us. Plus when is the last time the three of us got to fight together. I get tired seeing a tomahawk flying at my face; sometimes I want to see it helping me and not dropping my aura into the red.

Summer:You sound so bitter right now.

Nick:I’m winning gold in that tournament even if it fucking kills me! Oops, sorry uncle.

Whitley:I ain’t your parents.

Summer:....How bad do you want this to happen.

Nick:I don’t like the way you said that. What do you want?

Summer:I need your help with something.

Nick:I’m not singing.

Summer:You are literally the worst sometimes. You don’t even know what the cause is for!

Nick:Ugh, what’s the cause?

Summer:I’m thinking we get a little fundraiser going to get money for Mantle. Specially the food drives and an orphanage called Saint Harold’s.

Whitley:An orphanage? What brought that idea up.

Summer:I met a girl who recently has been placed there. I promised her that I would make it a nice place; I Arc promised.

Nick:Crap, you would. Now I’m obligated to help. *sinks into seat* can’t we just write a check? I don’t wanna sing.

Summer:That’s not fun.

Nick:When would I have the time to even put a fundraiser together. I’m a busy guy.

Summer:Uggh, I hate it when you’re right.

Whitley:Whatever check you two write, I’ll double it.

Summer:Really!?

Whitley:I’m usually holding back molding on meaningless events and it gets board members angry. You’d be giving me a valid excuse. Plus it’s a good use of our money.

Summer:Thanks, that means a lot. *smiles*

Nick:Am I off the hook?

Summer:Not even close. If I do this then that means I’m not singing at the tournament, so stop bugging me about it.

Whitley:Doesn’t that put him in the same position of messing up his schedule? Now he has to find something to fill that slot and make sure it’s good.

Nick:I apologize for trying to not include you in this conversation.

Whitley:I know. I don’t understand why you don’t duet with your sister at the tournament.

Nick:I take it back. Stop giving her ideas.

Summer:Too late! Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it.

Nick starts chewing on his lip as Summer offers a formal handshake. The deal wasn’t terrible. It only meant he’d be doing at minimum two tough matches and was still expected to entertain a crowd. That’s a tiring day; not to mention singing rehearsal. Knowing his sister, she probably won’t put him through the ringer. This exam does take care of practice as well.

Summer:So we shaking hands or not?

Nick:Don’t make me try any high notes.

Summer:Deal!

Nick:*shakes hand* Good, now you better be ready for tomorrow. I’m pretty sure we only get one shot at this.

Summer:I have a feeling you already have a plan to pass.

Nick:Oh Summer, when don’t I have a plan?

xxxx

The afternoon dragged on into night. Nicholas has spent hours with Summer and Valerie on face time to discuss their plans for tomorrow’s victory. Eventually all three of them called it a night and finally went to bed. Some of them a bit anxious about the whole thing; while others were anxious about school in general.

However night was just starting for Veronica was still on the open seas. Her gaze fixated on the moon’s reflection on the water and the dispersed glaciers everywhere. A sign that the boat was indeed getting closer to its intended destination. Two floor easels are propt up on each side of Veronica while a pencil and notebook are at the ready in her hands. She began drawing and sketching diligently; gaining ideas with each stroke until a shadow loomed over the immediate area.

Veronica:You’re blocking the light ma.

A new light quickly pushed away the darkness. Veronica smiled and looked up to see Yang looking at sketches littered everywhere; her hair glowing beautifully. Veronica went back to working.

Veronica:That works too I suppose. Always showing off. Not like I’m one to talk.

Yang:What are you working on?

Veronica:Concepts for a new fashion line. The water and scenery is the perfect cool color scheme to contrast the fiery design I want to create.

Yang:Fiery? Well I-

Veronica:Nope, won’t work. Not to put you down but your flames are a bit boring.

Yang:Boring!!?

Veronica:Seem them all my life. A grand inferno of some sort. I’m hoping the glow of Mantle’s warm glow from its heat generators against the tundra is what will do the trick.

Yang:Inspiration? That’s what motivated you to go on this trip? Menagerie getting too cramped for you?

Veronica:Something like that. I was always too much for that place anyway. Not that Solitas is exactly better. Airships roaring hourly, and the people frankly aren’t my kind of crowd for obvious reasons.

Yang:One person from Atlas definitely has your attention in a good way. As for the other...

Veronica:*flips page* I know what you’re doing. I rather not think about either of them right now. Too busy concentrat-

Her pencil breaks as she finishes another outline. Slowly her grip on it tightens intensely before she takes a deep breath and sets it down. Veronica’s hand reaches for her tail and rubs it rhythmically as she continued looking at the moon.

Yang:Blake told me something interesting before we left. About why she’s usually the one who doesn’t have to try too hard to get you to pipe up. I hope you know... I’ll listen to whatever you want to talk about. Including the emotional stuff. Everyone gets that way.

Veronica:I know that.

Yang:Still gonna be tight lipped though I see.

Veronica:No, there’s nothing to talk about. Just enjoying the view. The full moon never looked prettier than tonight.

Yang:Full moons still freak me out. The fact the gods fixed it as proof of their power is crazy. Even I almost wanted to kneel to them.

Veronica:I’d be more impressed if they did something meaningful instead of correcting their own foolish mistake. Anyways, when will we get to Atlas?

Yang:Ships slow down from here because of the glaciers. Then we port and take an airship. We still have plenty of time to kill. Wanna grab some dinner? The captain is eating with everyone tonight. I’m sure his fancy outfit has something interesting you might find.

Veronica:I’ve seen it already. It’s very tacky and daft. A far cry from even my earliest work.

Yang:I bet it’s more cost efficient at the very least. I mean those outfits in your room-

Veronica:Will be worth every last lien it took to obtain those necessary materials. Not every day I get use Grade A stuff. If all goes well then my pieces will notoriety and I can by better stuff.

Yang:You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you? I’m proud.

Veronica:*smiles* Of course you are. I’m great. Now if you excuse me...

She gathers all her belongings in a way everything touches each other. Her hand rests on top of it all and the items sink into the floor along with her. “I’m going to lay down.”

Yang:I’ll bring some food to your room later.

Veronica:Thanks. *vanishes*

Yang’s eyes looked towards the railing of the ship. Veronica’s pencil still rested on top motionless. “She forgot her pencil? That’s re-” The moment her finger grazed it, the pencil shattered and the railing was cracked.

Yang:Sigh...hard to read and fiery inside. I wish she’d simmer down. It’s like I’m dealing with mom. *rubbing her head* Oh geez, I really have become dad....

xxxx

Harriet:So, you actually managed to talk them into it?

“Yep!” Nicholas said proudly as he pumped his fist outward. The trio stood on the track ready for their exam; each of them in their standard fighting clothes instead of school uniforms. Not that Nichola’s clothes make too much of a difference. Semi formal is typically his style after all. His mostly white pants and shirt were replaced with icy blue this time around. His vest abandoned. He had a feeling that he’ll end up thrown into the ground before his friends finish the battle. Nick took the first three buttons on his shirt and undid them. As well as slicked his messy hair back. “I’m gonna take this seriously from the jump!” The cold edge of Mort Froide already unsheathed and lightly scraping the ground at his feet.

Valerie stood ready in a light brown coat with fur around the collar, sleeves, and bottom rim. Underneath is a pink shirt with a white lightning pattern that makes it look like it’s cracking. Navy blue leather pants and light brown fur boots complete the look. A pair of blue matching leather holsters on held her twin tomahawks nicely across her back; accessible at any given moment. “I can’t believe we’re actually attempting this.”‘excitement and wariness crept from her voice. “Might as well hand us diplomas if we manage to win.”

Summer wore a similar outfit to yesterday. Thermals and all, except for jacket that was still in Ruth’s possession. It was gonna be a bit hard to explain to Penny how the newest creations she made had already been lost. Penny was nice but Summer knew she was in for a earful whenever she eventually has to ask for another one. Her left hand rested on the blade at her hip. “I honestly don’t remember any class of Paladin being this big. It’s at least one and half times the size of a fully matured Goliath.”

Her keen eyes scouted their soon to be battlefield. It makes sense to use the track area. Plenty of space. Still, every thing about gym still irritated her to no end.

Harriet:Summer, I’m glad you could make it to my class finally. Even if it is after school.

Summer:Teach....you look lovely today.

Harriet:......

Summer:Sigh....I’ll show up to class.

Harriet:You promise?

Summer:An Arc can’t go making promises willy nilly. But I assure you that there’s no need to worry. I won’t try to cause any more problems.

Harriet:We’ll see about that. I’m not gonna give you too much of a hard time about it. Focus on the task at hand and depending on how this goes I might sweep a few absences under the rug. Maybe turn a couple zeros in your grade book to something more pleasant.

Summer:Really? Yes ma’am! I appreciate the generosity.

Harriet:*smiles* You three will start the moment you move your feet or when the five minutes timer I start beeps. I’ll be up on the bleachers the entire time watching to make sure everything goes fine. The Paladin as your data uploaded into it. That means it knows your aura level; it’ll stop targeting you once you are in the red. Remember, all of you will still pass if only one of you remains when it’s defeated; individual letter grades will be different depending how much you fumble through this. I suggest you take this time discussion any plan of attack. Break a leg.*walks off* Not really though!

Summer: Five minutes. Wanna go over the game plan one more time?

Valerie:Didn’t commit it to memory last night Snow Princess?

Summer:You were the one dozing in and out during the video call. Do you remember everything?

Valerie:*red* Hehehe, ya got me. Nicholas...?

Nicholas:The Paladin is equipped with rubber bullets, stun lasers, concussion grenade, and thrusters for maneuverability. Not to mention it could just out right hit us with its body. It is made out of the finest metal; annoyingly hard to scratch. Fortunately, so are our weapons.

Summer:One lap around the track is three miles and the Paladin starts in the middle. No doubt able to attack with at least it’s bullets and maybe it’s laser from that position. Long ways, going from one end of the track to the other his half the distance, 1.5 miles, or 7920 feet.

Valerie:If it’s in the middle then we’re actually going .75 miles, 3960 feet. Definitely within laser range.

Nicholas:Traveling .75 miles is also the total distance walking across the track going from the short ways. Making reaching the center .375 miles, 1980 feet wouldn’t be too unbelievable for its concussion grenades to reach us.

Summer:Spatial awareness is everything. We can bait out certain attacks to deplete its ammo. Adjusting accordingly, even when it moves. So let’s-

Valerie:That’s right! Keep different distances from different positions. I knew I’d remember eventually. We’ll rotate between long, mid, and close range when necessary. I’ll get in close.

Nicholas:I’ll start in midrange

Summer:Leave long range to me then. I’ll cover both of you so don’t worry.

Harriet: 30 seconds!

Nicholas:Looks like we’re good to go. Valerie, Summer you’re sort of cornerstones of this.

Valerie:Huh?

Summer:What’s that mean?

Nick:As long as you’re the one watching me Summer then I know you’ll never let me fall. You seem to always give me what I need before even I do. Reading each other is second nature at this point. Valerie, your pure strength and will has always inspired me during any battlefield or boring situation. That’s why I push myself, so I can keep up. Let me not forget how amazing your semblance is as well. Couch Bree wanted both of you for this because she knows the three of us are a force to be recognized. Passing this exam was never insane in my eyes. So thanks for believing in me. I’ll do all that I can.

Harriet: 10 seconds!!!

The two of them were stunned by his words. His genuine confession of his feelings about the pair. Summer’s eyes looked like they were dancing while Valerie couldn’t help but be a little touched by the praise. It was lucky that the cool air already had her face a bit red. They locked eyes and gave a smile as well as a nod. They weren’t going to misplace trust.

Harriet:Three!!!!

Valerie:We got this.

Harriet:Two!!!

Summer:Easy A

Harriet:One!!!

Nicholas:Let’s get to it then...

Harriet:Beg-

All three dash at the same time. Valerie straight ahead, Summer to the far left end, and Nicholas around to the right. “ LET’S GO!”

Part 9

#rwby twin snowflakes #rwby #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #whitley schnee #winter schnee #val valkyrie #harriet bree #rwby au #yang xiao long #veronica belladonna #bumbleby #rwby whiteknight

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maidenxfmight · 4 years

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hurricane (pt 1)

Tagging: @luthorforgood, @ofalexdanvers, @master-of-magnetism, & Supergirl When: July 31st, 2020 Where: L-Corp What: Erik confronts Lena about their deal, sets his plans in motion, and reveals something even Alex wasn’t aware of. Warnings: Violence, pregnancy mention Word Count: 7,870

Lena didn't know who to trust, but she couldn't do it on her own. Hours. She was missing hours of time, and she wasn't sure how much was a result of the fear pandemic that had attacked the city and what had been reality. Lena had the knowledge to run the tests herself, but if the results came back with anything less than a clean bill of health... a childish part of Lena didn't want to be alone. So, she'd called Alex and asked her to assist in an MRI, conducted in the same lab that Alex and Sam had once used. The MRI that couldn't show what Reign was doing to Sam. Lena tried not to think about what would happen if they couldn't find anything this time as well.

"Thank you, Alex," she said shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before tugging the sleeves of her sweater down past her thumbs. "I -- I wasn't sure who else to call. Please, don't tell Kara about this. I don't want her to worry." Lena had done enough to trouble her best friend already. There was no need to worry Kara about 'what ifs'.

Alex hadn't expected Lena to call her and ask for her help to do an MRI on the other woman, she'd agreed to help though, despite the whole incident with Kryptonite. Lena was Kara's friend and Kara had said she'd handle it so for now Alex was going to stay out of it, as much as she could stay out of anything involving the people she cared about at least. She had some issues staying out of things when people she cared about, especially her sister, was involved.

When she actually saw Lena in person she could tell she was worried and Alex was glad she'd agreed to help her, hopefully she could help ease her worries. "Don't mention it" she told her with a small smile. "And I won't tell her, I'll leave that decision up to you."

Lena nodded her thanks, letting out an almost audible sigh of relief. After the fear pandemic that had attacked the city, she didn’t want to add anything else to Kara’s problems. Not until she knew that there actually was a problem.

“Thank you,” she said again. Alex didn’t owe her any favors, but she’d still come to Lena’s aid. The Danvers sisters were really something else. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain what might happened if any of my board were to find out about this.”

Alex: Oh, she was sure the board would have a field day if they found out about this and she understood that Lena didn't want anyone, especially her board, to know about it. "Well, no one is going to find out from me at least" Alex promised, she had no intention of telling anyone and she was good at keeping secrets, she also kept her promises.

ERIK: He'd given her a few weeks to get started on finding away around the detection device. Granted, yes, the most recent one had been marred by the plague of fear that had settled over the city--but that wasn't Erik's problem. It was her device, she should know its loopholes.

At any rate, this wasn't about Lena. Not really. This was about Supergirl--he'd thought long and hard about whether to go through with this, but ultimately, there had been two deciding factors.

She wasn't human--but she wasn't mutant, either. He had a loyalty first and foremost to his own people. As for the second... she agreed with him. She did. She just lacked the will to go through with it. He would be doing her a favor. He would.

His entrance this time didn't require murder--he simply levitated up to the balcony where Supergirl entered L-Corp, knowing that Lena would undoubtedly get an alert. He didn't bother to disable the camera--smiled at it, in fact. She wouldn't refuse to let him in. Not given what the alternative was.

LENA: A buzz from her watch pulled her attention away from Alex and she frowned. An alert from L-Corp’s automated security system. A landing on what Lena sometimes thought of as ‘Supergirl’s balcony’ (only to herself). She pulled out her phone to view the live feed and froze at the sight.

“Director Danvers, we’re going to have to reschedule,” Lena said, her voice trembling imperceptibly as her face went white. “I have a pressing matter I need to attend to.”

ALEX: It wasn't hard to see that whatever alert Lena had gotten scared her, it was clear from her voice and written all over her face. Alex frowned when Lena told her they'd have to reschedule, if something hat warranted this reaction from the other woman there was no way she was leaving her alone. "Lena, what's wrong? Whatever you saw clearly scared you and I'm not leaving."

LENA: Curse the Danvers penchant for stubbornness and a knack for knowing when something was wrong. “Erik Lensherr has decided to pay another visit to L-Corp, and if I don’t entertain his arrival then who knows how many people he might kill. I am not going to let him kill another one of my employees.” Her walk was missing it’s characteristic click of high heels in the comfortable flats that she currently wore and the soft sweater did nothing to help build her confidence as she stalked toward the elevator that would lead to the top floor.

ALEX: Magneto, one of the most wanted people, the man who'd stolen kryptonite last time he was here and could have killed Lena, and she wanted Alex to leave? Not a chance. "Then let me help you" she said, not waiting for an answer as she followed Lena to the elevator, even if Lena didn't want her help, Alex was not leaving. "Besides, you'll have a better chance with me there" she told her as the Green Lantern power ring on her finger became visible as she changed to Green Lantern.

ERIK: He supposed it would be too much to expect to simply be buzzed in, so he waited only a few moments before mentally shrugging--he would need to make a scene to get the police, and more importantly Supergirl--out to the scene. No harm in starting early. Erik wrapped his powers around a portion of the sign several stories above his head and dragged a chunk of the metal down. He pushed it a few meters away from the side of the building as he stepped neatly out of its trajectory before clenching his fist, bringing the metal slamming through the door and its frame in a shower of splinters and glass. He felt the electric pulse of a silent alarm shoot off immediately. He didn't stop it. He stepped across the threshold into the office, glancing around thoughtfully until he heard the elevator ding at his back. Two sets of footsteps, and Erik turned on a heel to face them, raising a bemused brow as his gaze swept over Luthor's costumed companion. "The ring has changed hands, I see," he noted--he wasn't over-familiar with the Green Lantern, but he knew as much as most people did, at least.

No doubt she thought having a Lantern there would help. Whether that was true remained to be seen. Aside from that cursory acknowledgement, Erik didn't bother with the new woman, instead turning his gaze on Lena. "I trust you have something for me, Miss Luthor."

LENA: Another argument formed on her lips and died at the sight of the ring on Alex's hand. She was familiar with power rings. Her brother had done his research into them, but the rarity of the rings had tempered his obsession with the possibility of that endless power. Lanterns spent more of their time off-world than anything. A ring with that kind of power might be enough to stand up against Magneto.

The shattering of glass greeted them as the elevator reached her office. Instinctively, she stepped between Alex and Erik. "And I trust that you are aware of recent events that might have prevented my work." Her jaw clenched in irritation, and beneath that irritation -- fear. Fear of the look she might see on Alex's face if she turned around right now.

ALEX: She was glad Lena didn't argue more with her when she revealed the ring, though she was sure she'd say something about Alex being a Green Lantern later, if they survived this encounter with Magneto. She was still new to being a Lantern but she had fortunately spent time training and figuring out how to use the ring.

Once they reached Lena's office Alex looked around at all the shattered glass "you should consider not having this many windows" she commented as Lena stepped between her and Magneto, causing her to roll her eyes. Standing in front of the one with the power ring, logical. From their words it seemed the other scientist had made some kind of deal with the mutant, she decided to not comment on that for now though as she quickly placed herself between Lena and Magneto. "Just stay behind me."

ERIK: He didn't know who this new woman was, but one sentence out of her mouth already had Erik fighting back an amused grin. She was right, of course: but obnoxious amounts of windows was a New York thing and a billionaire thing. Stark Tower was much the same way.

The protective movements of both women for each other would've been sweet if it wasn't utterly useless. Erik didn't need a direct line to someone to hurt them. But he deigned not to comment on that, instead waving a hand vaguely in their direction--or more accurately, the direction of the elevator. The cable snapped behind the doors, sending the car plummeting to the bottom. Any police would have to use the stairs. That'd add a good ten minutes at least to their chatting time. He'd need every minute of it--even now, he could hear sirens starting to make their way to L-Corp. Good. Supergirl would no doubt follow shortly.

"I did notice, as a matter of fact." Had taken a step he once swore he'd never take and locked a collar around his own neck until the spell lifted so he couldn't hurt his family after the incident with Alex.

Don't think about that.

Focus. "That being said, my visit was several weeks ago and that incident was a matter of days. You invented the device I need you to counter, and I had rather thought that with your very life on the line, you might put a little pep in your step. I see you've been more focused on upgrading security--for all the good it did you."

The doorknob sloughed off the door in a shimmering mass of airborne metal, and Erik smiled icily at Lena over the Lantern's shoulder. "I did have such hopes." The metal solidified into a book-sized projectile in the space of a moment, and hurled itself at Lena's ribs.

LENA: If the air wasn’t thick with tension and a fear that Lena was loathe to admit, then she might have scoffed at Alex’s remark about her windows. The view was half of the draw to her putting her office on this floor; if she was going to spend most of her hours here, then she was determined to enjoy it. “Director Danvers, don’t call Supergirl,” she muttered urgently. Lena knew that the director of the DEO was a friend of Supergirl’s but she didn’t know how much information they shared. “He has kryptonite.”

Lena had managed to get herself into this mess, and she’d be damned if she let the Kryptonian get hurt because of her inept security and prejudices set against her. Like she’d told the Super, she cared.

I did notice. Beneath the words was something dark — almost sinister — and she shuddered at them, taking the slightest step back. Metal hurtled toward her, but instead of feeling the all too familiar crack of breaking bones, a green glow surrounded them.

ALEX: She knew Magneto was in possession of kryptonite, Kara had told her after finding out from Lena, she didn't say anything though, just nodded. She wasn't going to call her sister when Magneto had one of the few things that could hurt and kill her. Hopefully they could manage without Supergirl for this one, either way she wasn't going to risk her sister's life by calling her.

The metal went flying towards Lena and Alex reacted, ring glowing as she constructed a green forcefield around them before the projectile could hit Lena. "I don't know what kind of deal she made with you but I'm certain she'll hold up her end if you give her more time."

ERIK: The metal stopped far too short, running up against an invisible wall, and Erik's eyes cut briefly to the ring where it glowed on the woman--on Danvers'--finger. Director Danvers, apparently. Director of what? He let the metal brick melt once more, pressing against the forcefield as it slithered outwards as a distraction while he felt for any sign of a telltale badge. Nothing. Hm. Not SHIELD, clearly, but the director of something. He was not optimistic that any government agency was less than a threat.

And with that ring, she needed to be out of the way first, at any rate. The Phoenix roiled in his veins, something like displeasure making itself apparent, though with what he couldn't tell.

"My people don't have time. They're being killed in the streets, arrested every day," he said frigidly as the metal slunk off the forcefield, gathering in a swirl of shimmering silver around his hands.

She needed to see an attack coming to throw up a forcefield, same as himself, no doubt. Erik's head tipped contemplatively, sharp gaze flicking over the two women and the room around them. A chessmaster considering the board. Ah. He remembered his training session with Jean all those weeks ago on the banks of the Hudson, and felt an idea take shape. Piping beneath the floor. He coiled his power around a bundle of them, the copper purring under his attention, and yanked up through the floor, sending Lena off her feet. But when he moved to whip the bundle at Alex in the next millisecond, the copper refused to move, and the Phoenix hissed and he froze, confusion furrowing his brow for a moment.

What-- oh. He focused more on simply sensing, rather than searching, and heart the steady beating of four hearts. Four. Two, fast with adrenaline, his own steady beat, and another, far fainter one.

Was it really? A brief sweep, and yes, the ring-wielding woman had a second circulatory system starting to take shape. The metallokinetic released the pipes, raising a brow at Alex. "Oh, Director Danvers. You really ought to go home, and let Miss Luthor and I handle our own business, ring or no--we wouldn't want something to happen to the baby."

LENA: Her eyes tracked the movements of metal -- slithering in a way she never thought possible around the force field that Alex had just generated. He was angry. Angry enough to kill perhaps, and Alex could only hold him off for so long before something had to give. Her brain ticked through possible solutions and outcomes, hoping for one that wouldn't end with death.

Erik watched them as he kept talking. Of course, he was always talking. So much like Lex on the opposite pole of the spectrum of hate -- in love with the sound of their own voice. Lena began to formulate a reply, anything to buy them more time, but her feet were knocked from underneath her and she was left with ringing ears and lungs suddenly desperate for air. Ribs screamed as she rolled to her side and sucked in deep breaths until she could hear again and the room wasn't spinning so much.

Lena moved to stand but froze at the words. The baby. Her eyes widened and her head snapped in Alex's direction. The baby. But Alex couldn't possibly be -- She pushed herself onto shaking legs, squinting as the room tried spinning around her again. Lena didn't try to address Alex, knowing enough about the woman that it would only end in argument. Magneto was the one she needed to address. "Mr. Lehnsherr, she has nothing to do with this. Just, let her go. I'm the one your quarrel is with. Not her." Lena tried again to angle her body between the two, knowing that in Magneto's hands her body was a pathetic shield for Alex's protection. The baby. Did Kara even know?

ALEX: She moved to check on Lena when Magneto's words registered. The first was that he'd heard Lena call her Director Danvers, thanks Lena, the second was the baby and her hand instinctively moved to cover her stomach. She was pregnant, she was having a baby and she didn't know until now. She hadn't checked to see if the procedure had worked yet, first it was because she'd been worried about the answer and then the fear thing and she'd just... she'd had so many things on her mind that she hadn't taken a test yet, though seems she didn't need to now. Even with the baby she couldn't leave Lena alone with Magneto, she wouldn't leave her.

She needed a plan, even without the reveal that she was pregnant fighting wouldn't have been ideal, she doubted Lena would appreciate it if they brought the whole building down, it wasn't something she could risk when there might be people inside too. Fighting wasn't an option, not an ideal one anyway, maybe she should try taking a page out of her sister's book. Lena tried to put herself between Alex and Magneto again and she rolled her eyes, what good did she think that was going to do? "Will you just stay behind me" she said, once again stepping in front of Lena before addressing Magneto. "I don't want to fight you, I don't agree with everything you've done but I understand why you're doing it, you want to protect your people" Kara was much better at this talking thing than Alex but she'd seen her sister in action plenty of times, she'd had to have picked up something. Besides, Alex could understand wanting to protect people, she’d do anything to protect the people she cared about. “The way mutants are treated is terrible, you should be able to live in peace” she was more familiar with how aliens who only wanted to leave in peace was treated but she doubted it was any better for mutants. “I don’t agree with the Accords” at least not the way they were not “and I don’t agree with the device Lena made.” The detection device was what she figured he was here because of, it made the most sense. “While I’m sure she had good intentions for it there are always those who’ll abuse that kind of technology” she’d seen it too many times to know that was almost always how it went with these things. “I know this device makes it harder for mutants and other powered people but if you kill Lena you kill your best chance of finding a way to counteract the device.”

ERIK: G-d above, they were ridiculous, pushing each other out of the way like children, like it would do anything to stop Erik from getting to either of them. They thought of the battlefield as most humans would, expecting lateral attacks. But Erik had options: he could rip the floor apart under their feet by the joists, he could bring the ceiling down on their heads, he could drag their blood through their skin from the inside out, create an aneurysm in the brain before they had time to register the pain.

He was a weapon, and never had he relished it so much as he does with the Phoenix in his veins.

Danvers talked, and sounded so much like the person Erik was waiting for that he nearly laughed. Nearly. But this wasn't funny. This was the segue into the endgame of a war the humans thought they had the upperhand in, and Erik would not be so frivolous.

"Another who concedes me to be right and yet would stop me from doing what is necessary, I see," he said, coolly. "Course-correcting is clearly not a priority for Miss Luthor, even in the face of her technology so predictably being adapted for automated, systematic hunting of my people. But you would be surprised how clearly the threat of imminent death tends to shake out the mental cobwebs." The wires and pipes began snaking toward Lena again. "I'm told she's a quick thinker. She'd best get to it. Right here, right now."

SUPERGIRL: She had the specific wail of L-Corp's alarms memorized. There was a tick in their upswing, a slight warble that was distinctly different than the layered sirens of New York's first responders. More than that, they belonged to Lena, and if there was a difference, Kara was going to find it. She had to have them memorized, had to. They meant Lena was in danger.

"I gotta– I'm sorry, it's just, I have to go." Snapper was talking, he was saying something. His mouth was set in a frown and he lifted one eyebrow like he couldn't be bothered with whatever excuse poured out of her mouth next. But she couldn't hear it, she could hear the hammering of too-familiar heartbeats across town, and it didn't matter. It didn't matter if Snapper heard the nothing excuse that fell out of her mouth, if he wondered why the elevator button was cracked.

It still felt too late when she finally sailed through the windows of L-Corp, immediately taking in Alex – oh no, no no no not Alex – Lena, and Magneto. The pipes were groaning in a quest for her best friend, and there were too many heartbeats racing too fast. Somewhere it registered Magneto had kryptonite, and she should be scared – she was, she'd told Lena as much –but she shoved the thought away.

"Alex! You shouldn't be here." Her feet skidded across the floor centering herself just in front of Magneto, eyes glowing a deadly orange. He could attack from any angle, but she was banking on him going for the imminent thread first. "Take Lena and go."

Please, please listen, just this once. She knew Alex's name came out just a touch too familiar, breaking almost imperceptibly around the edges. "Magneto and I need to have another talk about his methods."

LENA: Such rapid and intense displays of power meant that it was only a matter of time before they had company. Company in the form of Sentinels that had taken inspiration from L-Corp's own technology. Had it just been Magneto, perhaps she might have been thankful for the assistance, but now the odds were stacking against Supergirl and Alex getting out of this easily. Then, there was the baby. The dozens of facts and quantifiable variables rushed through Lena's mind as she looked for a solution that would stop Magneto from hurting anyone before it was too late, and one that wouldn't end with Supergirl's arrest splashed upon the front page.

"Supergirl, you shouldn't be here. He has kryptonite!" Lena shouted, ignoring the pipes that continued to slink in her direction at Magneto's command. "Just... take Alex and go!" She face Magneto. "Some men can't be talked to." She remembered how much she'd talked to Lex, but in the end he only loved the sound of his own voice, not the voice of reason.

ALEX: She shouldn't be surprised that Supergirl showed up and really she wasn't but she was hoping her sister had enough sense to leave when she saw Magneto, someone who had Kryptonite, was there. It was obviously too much for hope for. And obviously she shouldn't have bothered with the mask either now that Lena has used her last name and Kara used her first name. "I shouldn't be here? You shouldn't be here" at least she got confirmation that her sister knew about the baby too, and she still had to find out from Magneto of all people. "Supergirl you should take Lena and go" she doubted her sister would listen to her but it was worth a shot, one thing was for sure, she wasn't leaning either, not while Kara was up against someone who had one of the few things that could hurt her in his possession.

ERIK: Take so-and-so and go! Part of Erik noted with amusement that the whole scenario was shaping up to sound like the chicken-fox-corn problem he used to give the kids in strategy classes. G-d above.

Focus.

Observation had kept him alive this long, and observation was paramount now, in the endgame of this war. So he observed, and he didn't miss the familiarity and concern in Supergirl's tone when she spoke to the Director, or the latter's faint expression of betrayal.

Danvers. Impossible.

And yet. Erik let out a slow breath, turning his focus fully to the senses afforded to him by his mutation. Each person, each living thing, had a bioelectric signature as unique to them as a fingerprint or genetic code.

Supergirl's was familiar. Supergirl's felt exactly like that of Kara Danvers.

The Phoenix shows you the truth.

Supergirl's--Kara's--eyes were glowing red, stance and sharp words showing her to be ready for a fight, and for the first time yet he felt his heart rate tick up in response. Kara was peaceful, but she was a hero. She would protect her family, like he would, when pressed, and she had a not inconsiderable arsenal at her disposal.

Erik flashed her a smile and the pipes stopped their crawl toward Lena and began to redirect. He didn't think they'd work, of course. But he would need some sort of showy distraction, and soon, if he was to plant the Kryptonite and get away before the Sentinels arrived.

"Still such faith in words," he said. "Give me something worth listening to and we'll see who makes it out. I already offered the Director free leave, but she's quite the protective sort. Even carrying child."

KARA: He knew. How he knew, Kara didn't know, but he knew. And he'd felt the need to declare it. Her own heart sank as she tuned in to Alex's, was it too fast? What was too fast? It was too early to stress this much, stuck in that tentative moment between certain and catastrophe. Alex shouldn't be here.

Neither should Lena, for that matter. Kara could still picture the jagged lines of her fractured ribs, the way she'd stood tall on an ankle that couldn't support her weight anymore. They'd been through enough, and still had so much to lose. And both refused to leave. Their protests twisted painfully in her chest, she just wanted them safe. Please, she couldn't lose them, not either of them.

The metal switched targets and Kara could tangibly feel the relief. Magneto's heart rate was up and she'd done something by making herself a primary target. If it didn't end well for her, well...

Kara swallowed the thought. Rao, just let Lena and Alex get away. The familiar raking pain of kryptonite was notably absent, and she would be fine. She wondered if he'd heard, if the catch in her voice was a dead give away. If the uptick in his heart rate was because meeting her eyes was hard when they lit up, or if he knew, somehow, she was ready to give it all for the people standing behind her.

"Always. We've been over this, Magneto. Violence is a last resort, but don't think I won't if I have to." She took a step back, directly over the creaking pipes. A point, she was making one. She settled her own breathing, her heartbeat steady. It wasn't that she wasn't afraid, but she'd been here so many times. Life or death for the people she loved. She was ready. "I don't think I can say anything you want to hear, can I? You came here for something specific, and if I know you at all, you'll take it no matter what I have to say. It's what I will do that matters, and I'm not sure you want this fight. Not right now, not with sentinels surely on their way."

LENA: First Alex and now Supergirl were trying to talk to talk Magneto down, although Supergirl seemed to understand that fists might be the most likely result. But then Supergirl reminded them all of the latest reality — Sentinels. The thought sent anger roiling through her veins: that someone would use her technology to make a police force so targeted that it ignored the larger problem. She knew what they said in the history books about older versions of the Sentinels and it looked nothing short of genocide. Something Lex would have been proud of... and she’d had a hand to play. That was the worst part. In some ways, Magneto was right.

“Why don’t you all leave my property before the Sentinels decide to turn L-Corp into ground zero in their power hunt,” Lena suggested with a slight snarl on her face.

ALEX: Magneto had offered to let her leave when telling her she was pregnant, and maybe she should leave, she had the baby to think about now too. Protecting people, helping people, it was what she did. First it was protecting Kara, then she went to medical school because she wanted to help people, and then she joined the DEO to protect and help people, she couldn't just leave, that wasn't what she did. A green glow surrounded Alex, a personal forcefield that would protect her and the baby, but she was ready to construct a forcefield around Lena too if Magneto turned his attention back to her. Kara and Lena was right though, the sentinels were more than likely on their way and if they had to fight them L-Corp would have more damage than just Lena's office. "I don't think we have much time before the sentinels get here."

ERIK: Sentinels. The very thought of them triggered a firecracker of anger, made the metal in the room shiver with the revulsion their mention stirred. They'd been terrible during the Cold War, and he was no more happy about them now than he had been then. Another, automated way to force powered individuals to suppress the parts of themselves that made humans uncomfortable.

Not for long.

The reminder of them reminded him why he was here, and Erik let the little metallic beetle painstakingly constructed to ferry the Kryptonite close to her crawl down from his back pocket. It skittered silently into the shadows as he kept them distracted with the shimmering metal in the air, shaping itself into dangerous, lashing coils between the three women.

"She made them happen," he snapped, voice raising. "She did this, and now she has the gall to ask us to spare her building destruction at their hands? I should bring it down myself," he snarled, lights sparking above their heads.

Dramatic, but suitably distracting.

The pipes coiled around Supergirl's--Kara's ( no, don't think about her like that now )--ankles, though he didn't expect them to hold. Barely even tried. The silvery tendrils he'd been using before shot towards Lena again.

"She doesn't deserve your protection."

KARA: Kara had learned physics before she came to Earth. It made her middle school Science classes feel like ancient history lessons more than anything, something she continuously rubbed in Alex's face. She knew how metal worked, and in the moment she remembered how it could fracture.

Drop the temperature, and most substances became brittle.

She felt the metal coil around her ankles, but only just. More importantly, her eyes traced the movement of deadly coils shooting towards Lena. Rao, why didn't they just leave when she asked them to?

It didn't matter, what mattered was physics. She turned her attention to the metal moving towards Lena, pulling in a breath and letting it freeze before directing it their way. In the same moment she launched herself towards them, the metal around her ankles barely enough to feel, let alone stop her. Her body connected with the tendrils and they snapped, ice-cold in her hands as she firmly positioned herself so Erik was between her and the windows. All in just the span of a moment, she pulled in another cool breath and released it.

He could fly, right? At the very least, he could direct something to catch him.

She wondered if he fractured the same way metal did. If the cracks would start small, and spread until he broke. She wondered if he'd let himself fly before he let himself break.

She'd stop herself, if he stood his ground in the icy blast of air. She had to, she had to be better. Because it wasn't her right to decide who deserved protection, and who deserved to die.

They weren't gods.

LENA: Watching Supergirl's powers up close was somewhere between awe-inspiring and terrifying. The sudden blast of cold air sent a shiver down her spine and Lena backed up as Supergirl plowed through metal as easily as cutting through paper. Now more than ever she was thankful to be on the same side as the Kryptonian and not on the opposing end of her strength. Lena still remembered the grip of Reign's hand around her throat -- her life in the hands of a being so powerful that somehow was also her friend. "Shit," she muttered, eyes widening as Supergirl turned around to attack Magneto. At this rate, they were going to bring the building down around them.

ALEX: Kara reacted faster than Alex, of course she did she hadn't expected anything else but Alex still constructed a forcefield bubble around herself and Lena, keeping it up this time. She watched her sister using her freeze breath against Magneto after breaking the metal with it, she wasn't sure what Kara's plan was but if there was one person she trusted to know what they were doing it was Kara, especially when it came to Supergirl things. She might be rash sometimes as Maggie had pointed out a few times, but Alex still trusted her sister, trusted her enough to leap off a building without a second thought because she knew Kara would catch her, and she was going to trust her now too. She knew the sentinels were on their way though and the last thing she wanted was for her sister to get arrested, not to mention fighting sentinels would definitely bring this building down, if Supergirl and Magneto didn't do it themselves first.

ERIK: She was brilliant, and in spite of the situation, in spite of what he was here to do, he felt pride rise in his chest. This was one of the things he loved most, when he was teaching and training others: witnessing them fully comfortable with their powers, thinking on their feet and using them in new and creative ways against their opponents, using their academic knowledge in a fight.

He'd anticipated laser vision, perhaps, or an attempt to melt the metal by way of heat. Freezing was unexpected, out of the box, and Erik realized in the moment he was forced to block out the frozen metal or feel the sting as if against his own skin that he had underestimated her. He hadn't seen her fight often, and he was beginning to see why so many tried to avoid that very scenario. Strong fighters were one thing--creative fighters were an entirely different sort of beast.

Incredible.

And then she was turning on him.

The icy blast of air nearly took him back a step. The shock of cold snatched the air right out of his lungs, and Erik had to decide what to do quickly.

Bend, or break?

He'd had to make that call before, but never under circumstances quite like this. He'd started this fight, set it up despite knowing his opponent was one of few that likely could actually kill him. That he believed she wouldn't take that step was why he was here at all. To retreat, regroup, would be an admission of strategic miscalculation in front of three opponents Erik cared little to let see any trace of weakness. And perhaps it was a miscalculation: he'd underestimated her once already. Was he wrong here, too? Could she look him in the eyes and kill him? He didn't think so. She was a bleeding heart, another person with the power to rock the world on its axis who tried so very hard to avoid speaking the language of war that it ran on. She wouldn't kill him. He was sure of it. But was he sure enough to bet his life?

Wrong question--of course he was. He bet his life on his own convictions regularly, had done so for decades.

No, more importantly: was he willing to risk the painstakingly plotted revolution that was to come in just two days' time, the countless mutant lives that could be liberated, on calling Kara's bluff? The pride cometh before the fall, after all. And closer to home: was he willing to risk putting Jean through losing someone else simply for the sake of posturing, mere weeks after the happiest day of her life?

The answer to both of those questions came easy. So Erik locked eyes with Kara, for a moment that felt like eternity with the flash-burn of ice snapping across his skin and biting like fire. And then he gave his ground, let the blast of air carry him off his feet and out into the open air.

In freefall, he felt the bird slide into the driver's seat. He didn't need to think, because he could feel everything. The buzzing network of electricity that ran through this city in a web pulsing at the speed of light, the countless cars and streetlights and rebars contained within just the nearest city blocks, the lines of force emanating from the Earth's core out into the atmosphere and beyond. It wanted to flex, wanted to fly. So rather than pick himself out of a fall with an uncomfortable jolt to the wrists--and the bracelets that sat there--he felt the easy pressure of a forcefield settle at his back like a hammock. Almost peaceful, thirty stories above New York. Except there was still a battle taking place several floors above, one he started and had every intention of finishing. A chess match with players he hadn't crossed before. He caught a silhouette in the window above him, a cape billowing behind, and he grinned up at the figure and offered a wave.

She wanted him out? Fine. Wanted him to catch himself? Sure.

She wasn't the only creative fighter between them.

Ordinarily, something like this would tax him to the limits--if not of power than of concentration, especially with the separate shields up around HQ and the mansion. But the bird had never met a limit it couldn't help its host blast through. So he closed his eyes and reached.

They were expecting him to come back up to the window, that's why Kara was standing watching. Making sure he lived, no doubt ( he'd been right, she wouldn't have killed him ), but likewise squaring up for his answering attack. Of course--retreat, regroup, return.

But that didn't mean he needed to put himself at risk of another hit of frost--or worse. So he sent his little beetle skittering over to the mess of shattered pipe on the floor by the elevator doors. And then those very doors melted down and slunk across the floor. The rubble of frozen pipes might be little but icy scrap metal that stung to feel, but he could feel it, and felt the pieces rattle faintly as what must have been a protective shield while he was in the tower dispersed.

How kind. Just in time.

The fluid metal that had once been Lena's elevator doors reared up behind. Metallic hands lashed out through the flickering field, snatched Lena by the shoulders, and dragged her back--through the open doors into the shaft.

The now-cabless shaft.

Erik knew the physics. 70 stories up, the crash to the bottom would take less than seven seconds. Superspeed in a tight space would be a delicate balance. Weaving the cables across the shaft after Lena would make things even trickier--laser vision or cold pointed in Lena's direction could be lethal if not well-controlled.

Erik hoped, genuinely, that Kara's creativity managed to get her to the woman in time as he let the forcefield around him carry him blocks away and to firm ground once more. He knew, after all, what it was like to be too slow to save someone you loved.

He didn't wish that for her. But his people came first. They always would.

KARA: For a moment, she thought he was going to let himself break. Frost danced around them, the temperature in the room dropping considerably. The metal at her feet cracked and snapped like wood in deep frost and she thought she was going to have to be the one to give. Her stand would be made with her sister and her friend at her back, toe to toe with one of the few people on Earth who could hurt her without breaking a sweat, kryptonite notwithstanding. She thought of fractures again, how they started jagged and small and spread until all structural integrity was null, and if she'd managed to crack Erik at all. Or if he'd known from the beginning she didn't have the heart the truly break him.

He met her eyes before he let his feet get light, and she knew without a doubt it was a choice. There were a dozen ways to stay put, all of which he could manage. But he lifted, and he held her gaze in the moment before he bent. And she was relieved, so relieved as she pulled in a breath and breezed through the frost at her feet. She was, but a part of her knew it wasn't over. The look in his eye hadn't been one of defeat, it had been one of stark, steady defiance; a storm not quelled or settled but centered, waiting for the perfect moment to rage once more.

It had her hands clenching at her sides, her movement in the window restless and unsure as she watched him fall, slow, and wave. This wasn't a battle lost, and she found herself tensing for the next blow, even while unsure exactly when it would fall. Unfortunately, it didn't come as she'd expected. The soft gasp behind her pulled the air from her chest, her heart stutter-stopped, and for a moment time ground to a halt. She heard the metal solidify around Lena, and the drag of her feet across the floor before they dropped over nothing. Seventy floors. On Earth it was 9.8 meters per second squared, but it had never really matched up with Kryptonian Sulls, and it wasn't a simple math equation, it never was. She had approximately seven seconds from the time Lena's feet found empty space at the top of the elevator shaft, and the time they'd come to a sudden halt at the bottom.

One wasted with Kara working her mind around the sound of metal creaking around Lena's chest, and the sound she'd made as she was pulled backwards.

Two. She found herself at the top of the elevator shaft looking down as the tips of Lena's fingers disappeared behind a web of cables. Every obstacle between her and Lena would fall exactly where it absolutely couldn't. And Erik had ensured there were far too many obstacles. She couldn't freeze them, she couldn't melt them, she couldn't–

Three. She just had to be faster. She'd slowed the turn of the Earth once: another Earth, another time. The consequence had been death, written in ink at the end of a book. A twist in fate had seen her live through it, and she hadn't spoken with anyone about it since. She wasn't the Flash, she couldn't fly faster than time, but she could fly faster than 9.8 meters per second squared. Lena's life depended on it.

Four. She broke through the first few layers of interwoven cable and the release in tension echoed with a snap down the elevator shaft. Her fingers barely wrapped around each tendril as it flailed towards Lena, the force tugging even against her strength. Pieces fell, but they all fell at the same rate, right? Five. Just a touch faster, and her arms wrapped around Lena, tucked just lower than her with her cape pulling tight around the both of them. That's when math always came back into play. Two seconds too slow, and humans couldn't just stop. This was a calculation she'd done far too many times, catching cars and trains and space crafts hurtling across the galaxy. She couldn't allow herself to become the floor at the bottom, otherwise it would have all been for naught.

Six. They slow as fast as Kara can manage without hurting Lena, still too fast. The air sucked in around them, and their feet hit the concrete light enough that it didn't crack. It didn't spider or thump, she'd done it! She had only a moment to let out a small cheer before–

Seven, the cables and chunks of metal rained down around them, bouncing off of Kara and the cape she'd flung over the both of them. The cacophony rattled up the walls of the elevator shaft and Kara pulled Lena close, like she could shelter her from the chaos just as surely as she sheltered her from the metal itself. And for a moment it hurt, her own gasp filling the ringing silence left behind once the debris settled.

"We're, ah–we're okay!" She called up to Alex as she pulled the metal that had wrapped itself around Lena away, but something about it made her hands burn. It fell to the floor with one final clank, and Kara took two careful steps back. The feeling faded quickly, and she made a point to pull in a breath. She was Supergirl, she couldn't look weak. "Are you alright?"

Her hands moved restlessly across Lena’s shoulders, all sound zeroed in to her heartbeat. Something burned just beneath the surface, something shifted. But they were safe, they were alright. Lena’s heart thumped too fast, and she could hear Alex breathing hard from the top of the elevator shaft. This wasn’t over, but they were safe.

She thought.

Her eyes found the metal she’d pulled from around Lena, for just a moment, thinking of the way it had burned her hands.

But Lena’s heartbeat was louder, and she had seventy stories to climb. It could wait.

#ff: master of magnetism #ff: ofalexdanvers #ff: luthorforgood

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commentaryvorg · 4 years

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Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Bonus 1 - Back Routes

My usual spoiler warning for the main commentary doesn’t really apply here since the back routes are content that most people would usually only see after finishing the main game. But on the extremely unlikely off-chance that someone was going for all the back routes in their first-time playthrough and for some reason wanted to read commentary on them as they went along, this commentary is still not recommended, as I do sometimes mention things from later on in some of the trials.

So, the back routes. For those who don’t know, because the game is pretty vague about them so I imagine a lot of people might not: these are alternative routes you can take in trials by using specific lies in certain debates where you’re canonically supposed to just use the truth. There’s two in almost every trial, except for only one in trial 1, and none at all in trial 6, making nine in total for me to go over here. The alternative events always re-converge with the canon stream of events pretty quickly, so they don’t affect that much, and most of them are pretty silly and pointless, as we’ll see.

I personally first saw the back routes just by finding a Youtube video with all of them in, so I never had to go through the no-doubt frustrating process of trying to figure out where they are. The one indication there is, which is ridiculously subtle unless someone tells you about it, is that the music for the debates in which you can lie is a different piece called “Discussion – PERJURY”, a title you wouldn’t know about on your own without checking the soundtrack. This piece happens to be exactly the same as the usual “Discussion – BREAK” piece, except it also has the vocal bits that go something like “break down the door o’clock” (that’s always what it sounded like to me, anyway), whereas the regular one doesn’t have that. Since those vocals were always in the debate BGM from the first two DR games, it’s quite easy to not even notice there’s anything significant about them being there in this game. And, of course, even if you are listening out for that and have pinpointed which debates you need to lie in, there’s still no hint as to what the possible lie is. I do not envy anyone who’s attempted to find these back routes entirely on their own.

Trial 1, Back Route 1

This first back route is in the second half of the trial, after Shuichi has become the protagonist, in the debate in which everyone’s trying to figure out how the shot put ball could have got all the way from the opening of the vent onto Rantaro’s head. You’re supposed to point out that it could have rolled along the books that Kaede stacked up, but also…

Kaede: “Hey, Shuichi… Don’t lose sight of the truth.”

…Kaede says this, right at the end of the debate, and there’s a weak spot on it. If you turn the “Library Vent” bullet into a lie, it becomes “Blocked Vent”, and you can fire it at this.

Shuichi: (Kaede… I’m sorry. I’m not strong enough for this! I can’t make you the culprit!)

It’s almost strange to see this, having recently been in chapters 5 and 6 with a strong heroic Shuichi who could bravely face any kind of painful truth. But here we are back at the beginning, and it is quite believable that the Shuichi in chapter 1 might just have lost his nerve and not been able to do this.

Shuichi: “W-Well, actually… Maybe the shot didn’t pass through the vent…”

Kiyo: “Did you not just tell us that the shot traveled through the vent?”

Shuichi: “That’s true, but… I just remembered, the library’s vent was closed.”

Ryoma: “The vent… was closed?”

Shuichi: “… So I think… my deduction might be wrong.”

Shuichi’s voice sounds awkward and nervous as he tells his lie here, but it’s fairly plausible that that nervousness comes from his realisation that his deduction was wrong (because of his lack of confidence in his abilities), rather than from the knowledge that he’s running away from the truth.

Kaede: “Shuichi?”

Shuichi: “…”

Kaede: “I see…”

Kaede immediately sees through him and realises what he’s doing, of course, and she’s not going to let him do that.

Kaede: “Shuichi, we both investigated the vent. But you misunderstood something.”

Shuichi: “…What?”

Kaede: “I closed the vent grate while we were investigating, but it was open before.”

But, adorably, the way Kaede clears this up is not by informing the whole class that Shuichi just lied to protect her because he can’t face the truth. Instead, she tells her own lie that makes it seem like Shuichi was simply misinformed, so she can get things back on track without discrediting Shuichi or hurting him any more than necessary.

Shuichi: “No… That’s a lie!”

Kaede: “It’s not a lie. But depending on your deduction… it could become a lie.”

Shuichi: “…Ah!”

What Kaede says is a bit odd, since any statement is either a lie or it isn’t and it’s not going to suddenly change. But I suppose what she’s really saying is that the class’s perception of whether or not she’s lying will change depending on whether Shuichi admits that he just lied. She’s making it clear to Shuichi that she knows he just lied and he knows she just lied, without the rest of the class ever having to be aware that either of them did.

Kaede: “Shuichi, please, answer the question. How did the shot reach Rantaro? You know the answer. You just heard it during the debate.”

And then, like all back routes do, things start to reconverge with how the trial should have gone. It’s lovely though that in this instance it comes from Kaede’s continued efforts to encourage Shuichi to face the truth and use his detective skills that she believes in.

Shuichi: (Why am I hesitating…? Am I really going to turn back now? At a time like this? I’m sure Kaede wants to run away… But she’s still here… she trusts me to do this! I need to answer. I need to grant her wish. I need to solve this mystery!)

And Shuichi manages to find his strength again, thanks to Kaede’s encouragement and seeing how brave she’s being. After these lines, he explains exactly what he should have done after the debate and things reconverge completely.

I also enjoy that here’s another little moment of Shuichi being perfectly aware that Kaede’s scared but then using that to inspire him to be strong in the face of his own fear. Heroes that are struggling can be more inspiring than otherwise!

This is my favourite of all of the back routes! It makes a lot of in-character sense at this point that Shuichi might do this, because it’s all about his issues of wanting to run away from the truth causing him to momentarily falter even after having decided to accuse Kaede. This is the one back route that I can actually see potentially having canonically happened.

I say this about this one because, uh, most of the rest of them aren’t going to be nearly this good at all. Oh boy.

Trial 2, Back Route 1

This one’s right at the very beginning, in the first debate. They’re talking about Himiko’s magic trick, but this debate isn’t even supposed to be about figuring out the trick, it’s supposed to be about telling Kokichi he’s wrong when he pretends to believe Ryoma was eaten alive. However…

Himiko: “The Underwater Escape was no trick! It was magic!”

…there is also an agree spot here, and if you turn “Water Tank Trick” into a lie, it becomes “Magic Water Tank”, and you can agree with Himiko that it totally was magic.

Shuichi: “Maybe Himiko is right… The Underwater Escape might be real magic. Because from what I’ve seen, there is no trick or gimmick in that tank!”

Why, Shuichi. Why on earth do you think this is a worthwhile thing to lie about. Nothing in this entire back route gives any indication as to why Shuichi would think this is necessary.

Himiko: “Nyeh!?”

The best part of this one, in a very silly way, has to be how utterly fucking surprised Himiko is to hear him say this. If nothing else does, this proves that she’s not actually deluded and knows full well her magic isn’t really magic.

Himiko: “Y-Yeah, see? Shuichi agrees… There’s no trick. It’s magic…”

Yes, definitely, if the Ultimate Detective agrees then that’s even more proof that she’s a real mage!!! (she is so confused why is he doing this)

Tenko: “Wait up, Shuichi! Why are you trying to white-knight your way into Himiko’s heart!?”

Like that’s not what you’re doing all the time, Tenko.

Shuichi: (That… certainly was not my intention…)

Then what the fuck was, Shuichi!?

A couple of people suggest that if Himiko’s trick really was magic then doesn’t that make it more likely that she did kill Ryoma?

Himiko: “N-No, wait… Ryoma couldn’t have been killed by the piranhas… Cuz the piranhas I used in my show were special. They only eat dead flesh.”

This reads every bit like a desperate lie she’s trying to tell to get the suspicion off her. Apparently she didn’t even bother reading the Monokuma File to find a much simpler way to prove Ryoma wasn’t killed by the piranhas.

Tenko: “Are you just pretending to be nice to Himiko so she’ll tell us the truth!?”

Shuichi: “Ah, no, that’s not it…” (But… Himiko’s information was useful. Ryoma was not killed by the piranhas.)

Something you already knew, Shuichi, because you read the Monokuma File and are not an idiot, so Himiko’s “information”, if it was even true, wasn’t actually useful at all. If Shuichi really did tell this lie in an attempt to get some kind of information out of Himiko, then it was the most ridiculously pointless endeavour ever. Maybe he was actually trying to surprise her into admitting it wasn’t magic and explaining the trick? I don’t know.

Things shortly reconverge back to Shuichi explaining why Ryoma wasn’t eaten alive… and funnily enough, when we get to the next debate in which we actually discuss Himiko’s trick, everybody’s going to have conveniently forgotten the fact that Shuichi previously claimed the tank had no gimmick to it at all.

Trial 2, Back Route 2

This next one’s in the second half of the trial, just after Shuichi has accused Kirumi of being the culprit and needs to explain why. You’re supposed to point out that she had the chance to set things up in the gym in the five minutes she spent in there alone. And you’d think that Shuichi would already be aware of this, since this should be why he chose to accuse her in the first place.

Kirumi: “An alibi for nighttime? I believe most of us do not have one.”

But if you turn “Alibis for Yesterday” into a lie, it becomes, for some reason, “My Alibi For Nighttime”. Upon firing it at this statement, Shuichi is about to tell a ridiculously elaborate lie. Hold tight.

He claims that after the training he totally did with Kaito that night (remember his other, canonical lie), he went back to his dorm but couldn’t sleep and was awake for the whole night. And during the night, he heard the sound of someone leaving their dorm, and then later returning.

Shuichi: “But… I didn’t hear the sound of someone going down the stairs. Which must mean that whoever left has a room on the 1st floor.”

…

Shuichi: “Because preparing the ropeway required time to be spent in the gym… it’s extremely likely that the culprit helped set up the magic show. In short… Himiko, Angie, Kaito, or Kirumi.”

Maki: “I see… So among those four, the only one with a room on the 1st floor of the dorms is…”

Shuichi: “Yes. Only Kirumi.”

What the actual fuck. This is admittedly very clever, but it’s a huge stretch to think that Shuichi was able to come up with this on the spot. For one thing, I’m amazed he’s actually managed to memorise everyone’s dorm room placements (and apparently so has Maki) when they’ve only been there a few days. I’d certainly only pay attention to my own room and probably my immediate neighbours. Ultimate Detective super-memory, maybe, I guess. But then there’s the part where, while trying to think of a way to incriminate Kirumi, it somehow comes to Shuichi’s mind that she’s the only one of the possible suspects with a dorm room on the first floor, and therefore that he can use that in a lie? Why on earth would he think of that, of all things?

And if the actual reason to accuse Kirumi isn’t something he’s realised, then Shuichi should not even be sure she did it at this point, in which case telling a huge elaborate lie to incriminate her is incredibly risky, because what if she really didn’t do it?

Shuichi’s also missing a few potential suspects. Keebo also helped set up the magic show; Maki did not but has no alibi between 9 and 10 and could have done it then; and Miu also has a weak enough alibi that she could potentially have snuck into the gym for the five minutes necessary to set it up between 9 and 10. Keebo and Maki are on the second floor of the dorms. Miu is not. It still could technically be Miu, if we’re believing Shuichi’s lie here!

It is quite something to realise that the placement of all the characters’ rooms in the dorms were apparently decided almost entirely for the sake of this one non-canon alternative route. (I should also point out that despite more than a year of obsessing over this game, I still had to check these dorm placements that I just mentioned. It’s ridiculous that Shuichi knew these off the top of his head after only a few days.)

And I’ve no idea how a player is supposed to be able to figure out this back route through anything but wild trial-and-error. You can check what Lie Bullet is made from each Truth Bullet, although to do so you then have to fire it, which you lose health for doing (unless you have Kokichi’s skill equipped). I suppose firing “My Alibi For Nighttime” at the claim that most people don’t have an alibi for nighttime kind of makes sense, but Shuichi supposedly proving his own alibi is not necessary and not even what actually happens here. Players must be very confused when he suddenly goes off on this tangent which is nothing like what they would have been expecting from this.

Kokichi: “Hmm, you heard a sound, huh? Well, I hear a load of BS.”

Kokichi’s not wrong to call out Shuichi’s bullshit… but honestly, this was quite a plausible lie, simply because it’s so implausible to think that Shuichi could have come up with this as a lie. If he actually heard Kirumi leave and re-enter her room, then it makes sense he’d have then been able to narrow down that it could only be her based on her room being on the first floor. But the idea that he somehow managed to figure this concept out backwards without having actually heard anything is far harder to believe.

Kokichi: “But unfortunately for you, Kirumi… Your time’s up. We already know you’re the only one capable of setting all this up. Riiiight, Shuichi?”

Shuichi: (…Well, that was an unexpected assist.)

And this is how we reconverge. So apparently Shuichi did already know to point out that Kirumi is the only one who had the five minutes alone in the gym to make the preparations (so much for his claim that it could have been anyone who was in the gym even though the rest of them were never alone in there). In which case, whyyyyy on earth do this ridiculously elaborate detour instead???

Plus, here’s Kokichi making it clear that he knew that just as well himself, but of course he didn’t point it out any earlier than this because lol what is being helpful, that’s boring.

Trial 3, Back Route 1

This one’s in the first half, in the debate where it’s being argued that Keebo could have snuck in under the seance room’s floor using his flashlight function to see. You’re supposed to refute Kiyo’s claim that the culprit used a light at all because any light would have been seen through the hole in the floor. But doing that is honestly a little bit confusing and unintuitive, because the rest of the debate is more about specifically Keebo's flashlight and it seems more like you should be focusing on that in particular. Because of this, I’ve actually seen one blind LPer trigger this back route by accident because they were so confused about what to do here.

Miu: “Keebo could’ve used that function to get under the floor…”

Turning the “Keebo’s Flashlight Function” bullet into a lie gets you “Flashlight Drawbacks”. The LPer I mentioned thought this simply meant the fact that it’s really bright and would have been seen through the gaps, so they fired it here and were very confused by the notion that this was even supposed to be a lie in the first place. But oh boy, it is. Here we go.

Shuichi: (It’s hard to believe that Keebo is the culprit in this case. It’s even harder to believe that this trial isn’t being manipulated by someone… So even if I have to lie… I need to defend Keebo!)

It’s pretty ridiculous that Shuichi hasn’t figured out the obvious way to prove Keebo’s innocence without lying. And then it’s also odd that despite having no proof, he still believes Keebo isn’t the culprit. It comes across like the kind of belief he has in Kaito, but he’s not particularly close friends with Keebo in that same way, so it’s just very out of nowhere. This is the flimsiest justification for this silly detour.

Shuichi: “It’s so bright, even Keebo can’t see when it’s turned on!”

And so this is his lie, because apparently “it’s so bright that people would have seen it through the goddamn hole in the floor” did not occur to him first.

Miu: “…Wait, what!? There’s no way a genius like me would make that kinda rookie mistake!”

It’s honestly pretty remarkable that Keebo’s flashlight doesn’t have that drawback, since it’s in his eyes, which are indeed what he sees out of as trial 6 confirms for us. One would expect that to just massively overload the light sensors that they’d be right next to.

Gonta: “But… you make mistakes a lot… A whole lot…”

Oh, Gonta. You and your straightforward honesty.

(And then Miu is terrible and the less said about that the better.)

Shuichi: (Come on, Keebo… Please, play along!)

Keebo: “Um…”

Shuichi: (Keebo!)

Keebo: “Uh, um… Well, uh…”

It is pretty cute how Keebo doesn’t want to call out Shuichi’s lie but is also super uncomfortable about going along with it. Keebo is one of very few characters in this game who never lies about anything.

Keebo: “I’m so sorry! I just don’t remember! Really, I’m sorry!” [he shines his flashlight]

…I say that, but this here has to be a lie, because he was standing with his flashlight on for the whole second half of the investigation and would definitely have remembered not being able to see for all that time. Still, he’d rather tell an inconsequential lie about not remembering than either call out Shuichi for lying to protect him or go along with Shuichi’s much bigger lie that it really does blind him.

Kaito: “Aagh! We get it already! Just turn it off! We’re gonna go blind!”

Remember me noting during the trial itself that it’s Kaito in particular who complains about Keebo’s flashlight, suggesting he’s extra light-sensitive right now due to his illness? Still a thing here.

And a few lines later…

Keebo: “Shuichi, I’m so sorry!” [he shines his flashlight again]

Kaito: “Damn! That is seriously bright!”

It is still Kaito who reacts. He does this all four times Keebo shines his flashlight in this trial, if you count this back route along with the canon parts. Yep, I’m certain that’s a thing.

Maki: “Wouldn’t the light have shined through the gaps of the floorboard if it had been that bright?”

And then Maki is the one to save us from this dumbness that we’ve ended up on. Thank you, Maki.

Trial 3, Back Route 2

This one’s just after the intermission, when they’ve figured out that the seesaw trick required cutting the crosspiece beforehand, and so Kiyo is arguing that Himiko did it because she’s the one who picked the room. You’re supposed to prove that the other rooms were trapped too, but instead…

Tsumugi: “What if someone steered her into picking that room?”

…you can turn “The Caged Child” into “Caged Dog Village” and fire it at the agree spot in this statement. This is an odd one; “Caged Dog Village” is simply the name of the book that describes the Caged Child seance and therefore basically refers to the same information. This is not actually a lie.

Shuichi: (If implicating Himiko was the plan, then disrupting that plan might teach us something. For that reason… I have to lie!)

Do you, Shuichi? The game is trying to insist that this totally counts as a regular back route which arbitrarily must involve lying, but he’s not about to lie here.

Shuichi: “I believe Himiko was being set up. Himiko only picked that room because Kiyo wanted it as dark as possible.”

This a perfectly valid point which doesn’t get made in the canon trial. Before picking specifically the middle room, Himiko was also the one to suggest using one of the empty rooms in the first place – but she did so after Kiyo said it needed to be dark. Obviously Kiyo knew that those rooms were the only rooms available that fit the criteria for the seance and deliberately let her suggest it instead of himself.

None of this is a lie, and it didn’t even really need the “lie” bullet of “Caged Dog Village” for this, when The Caged Child truth bullet also mentions how it needs to be dark. Alternative routes to debates shouldn’t necessarily need to involve lying! (This is also another one which must have required some frustrating trial-and-error for players to find on their own.)

Keebo: “The culprit gambled on the middle room being picked through coincidence? That seems highly improbable.”

Shuichi: (Ah, that is true… The culprit wouldn’t have left that to chance.)

And now we’re back right where we started this debate, because even if it can be explained why Himiko picked one of the three empty rooms, this doesn’t prove that the culprit steered her into picking specifically the middle one (because he didn’t).

Himiko: “… No more… I told you… it’s too much of a pain. Just do the voting or whatever.”

There’s also a little more of Himiko having given up here, since Shuichi is not doing a good enough job of defending her with this to inspire her out of this mindset.

Kokichi: “I’m pretty sure it didn’t matter which room Himiko chose…”

Shuichi: “What do you mean?”

Kokichi: “It’s getting kinda boring, so I’ll explain. She didn’t choose the middle by coincidence. Each room was the same to begin with.”

It makes sense that Kokichi’s the one to get us back on track, because he’s the one who discovered the other rooms were trapped. Of course, he could have told everyone that in the first place, but nope, he’s only pointing it out here because Shuichi’s being slow on the uptake and it’s looking possible that they might actually vote for Himiko and get everyone killed if he doesn’t step in. It is quite amusing how frustrated he sounds by this. Ugh, what do you mean he’s got no choice but to be helpful for once. The least helpful person even when he is actually being helpful, as always.

Trial 4, Back Route 1

This one’s in the very first debate, in which Kokichi’s arguing that Kaito poisoned Miu.

Kokichi: “That’s when you poisoned her, right, Kaito?”

You’re supposed to fire the “Small Bottle of Poison” at this statement to prove that Miu couldn’t have been killed with that poison. But you can also lie with that bullet to turn it into “Small Antidote Bottle” and fire it here.

Shuichi: “And it’s much too early to decide that Kaito is the culprit.”

Kokichi: “But whyyyyyyy? I think it’s already too late. You guys are taking so long to realise that people can kill others in a snap…”

Oh my god, Kokichi, you are the most broken record ever even in non-canon alternative scenarios.

Shuichi: (I know Kokichi hasn’t forgotten about that. He’s just pretending. Alright, Kokichi, I’ll play your game. If you’re going to lie, I will too.)

At least for this back route, Shuichi isn’t being inexplicably stupid and failing to realise the correct way forward. He knows it, but he’s just trying to give Kokichi a taste of his own medicine.

Shuichi: “Have you forgotten? The bottle we found at the scene was an antidote, not a poison. It’s not like Miu could have been killed by an antidote.”

This is a pretty pathetically obvious lie, but the point isn’t to have anyone believe it, it’s to (attempt to) push Kokichi into admitting the truth about the poison and that he already knows the culprit isn’t Kaito. Which can sometimes be the point behind some of Kokichi’s pathetically obvious lies. The ones that aren’t just for the hell of it, at least.

Shuichi: “…Is this *fun* for you, messing with the trial?”

Kokichi: “Hm? Well, I mean, this is where it gets fun for both me and the culprit.”

Of course he’s doing it just for fun, Shuichi, you barely need to ask that.

Also, please recall that Kokichi believes right now that Gonta remembers being the culprit, and yet he has the gall to imply in earshot of Gonta that he’d ever be having fun with this. What a dick.

Kokichi: “…So, what’s this talk about an antidote? We’ll just say you misunderstood the whole thing, Shuichi. We all know you wouldn’t lie.”

Shuichi: “O-Of course. I’m sorry, I was just misremembering.”

It’s pretty disappointing and anticlimactic that Shuichi just backs down on this. Him telling this lie in the first place was supposed to be to show Kokichi how frustrating his own obvious lies are and try to get him to reveal his hand. Kokichi would never suddenly back down with an “oops sorry I was just mistaken” (Kokichi is never wrong about anything, after all), so if Shuichi really wants to commit to this bit, he shouldn’t either!

I suppose the fact that he does just goes to show that Shuichi doesn’t have it in him to be as much of an asshole liar as Kokichi, funnily enough. Which is why I’m still not super fond of this back route, even though it’s less stupid than the ones in trials 2 and 3 – while it’s neat that Shuichi tries to use Kokichi’s tactics against him, it’s not really in his character to do that when it’s not necessary. That’s too underhanded for Shuichi.

Shuichi: (I can’t let Kokichi continue this line of questioning. It will implicate Kaito.)

Kokichi already has implicated Kaito. Wasn’t the point of this whole lie supposed to be to get him to reveal the truth of the poison and unimplicate Kaito? But even then, it’s very unclear how Shuichi thought lying that the poison bottle was an antidote bottle would do that – Kokichi’s just going to retort “no, it was poison, duh” and never need to explain the part where it was a type of poison that couldn’t have killed Miu. This whole escapade of Shuichi’s was a pretty silly idea on many levels.

Shuichi: “But Kokichi, you’re misremembering as well. You were the one who told us about the warnings on the label. If you remember what was on that label, you’ll see that your argument is flawed.”

Kokichi: “What warnings? Was there something like that on the label?”

Shuichi: (Is he still pretending not to know…?)

And ultimately, he never gets Kokichi to admit he was lying about it. He even actively claimed that Kokichi just misremembered, despite knowing that’s not the case! If revealing that Kokichi was lying was your goal, Shuichi, why would you not at least try to point that out to everyone, even if he’d inevitably deny it.

Trial 4, Back Route 2

This one’s just after the intermission, in the debate where they’re discussing what was used to slide Miu’s body off the roof, featuring what would normally be Kaito Refutation #3.

Kaito: “There was nothing like that around, though!”

But instead of refuting Kaito with the actual truth, you can also turn “Signboard Used as a Bridge” into “Signboard Used as a Sign” and fire it here.

Shuichi: “There was something the culprit could have used to slide the body! The signboard!”

Kaito: “The signboard!?”

While the purpose of this lie is, again, about Kokichi, it makes me uncomfortable that this one involves Shuichi lying to Kaito. Kaito’s having enough inferiority issues at this point in this trial already without Shuichi just using him as a springboard to play some pointless game of liar chess with Kokichi.

Maki points out that the signboard was already being used as a bridge and therefore couldn’t have been a sled.

Shuichi: (Maki is right, it couldn’t have been that exact signboard. However… He knows exactly how it was done. That’s why I need to bait him out with this lie!)

Again, Shuichi is attempting to get Kokichi to reveal that he already knows all the answers to this case by pushing him into it with his own lie. So he goes on to claim that there was actually a second signboard lying next to where he found the first one to use as a bridge. (During the Virtual World trip, the game made a point of how Shuichi went alone to fetch that signboard in the first place, which it turns out was entirely for the purpose of this back route, so that nobody else would be able to prove this is a lie.)

Himiko: “But then why did Miu say there was only one signboard?”

Shuichi: “Uh… To mislead us; she was planning a crime, after all.”

This is rather flimsy and indicative that he’s lying. She would still need a reason related to her planned crime to want to lie about this. In fact, there being a second signboard there would have ruined Miu’s plan of throwing away the bridge, so really she should have deleted any extra potential bridges beforehand and that proves Shuichi’s lying about this.

Kokichi: “Puhu… Puhuhuhuhu…!”

This, of all things, is Kokichi’s initial reaction. I guess since we’re in the second half of trial 4, it’s approaching the point where he’s going to be pretending he’s super evil for the purpose of convincing them all he’s the mastermind, and that’s why he’s acting like Monokuma here?

Kokichi: “Ah-hahahaha! Oh my god! That lie was sooo cringy! Stop, my stomach hurts! Wooow! Shuichi is lying on purpose! Are you trying to spice up the class trial, too?”

And this time, Kokichi explicitly calls Shuichi out on the lie. This is the first time he’s done that for any of Shuichi’s lies, back route or canon, since this is just a little before Shuichi’s actual canon lie in this trial which Kokichi will also call him out on.

It’s a little strange that he reacts to this lie of Shuichi’s so differently than how he reacts to the upcoming one, just finding it hilariously pathetic rather than being furious about it. Perhaps that’s just because the upcoming one gets used much more directly against him, to prove that he went to the crime scene, whereas this one doesn’t “ruin his fun” and in fact makes things more entertaining for him.

Shuichi: “Kokichi… I was the only one who went and got the signboard. Only I saw them. So why do you think I’m lying?”

Kokichi: “Because I know. I know the culprit… and the whole trick.”

And, I guess props to Shuichi, because this time he actually succeeded in getting Kokichi to admit this. This is possibly because Kokichi is so close to the point where he’s planning to reveal the culprit anyway that he doesn’t see the harm in giving everyone a little teaser of that. (I should also point out that, were Kokichi really going for the mercy kill, it would be better for him to not admit to knowing anything at all here.)

Kaito: “Wh-What!?”

I like how Kaito is the first one to react to that. At this point in the trial it’s pretty clear that he’s noticed Kokichi already knows a bunch of stuff he’s infuriatingly not telling anyone, so this is probably less him being surprised at that and more just being bewildered that Kokichi is suddenly admitting it.

Kokichi: “Nee-heehee… I couuuld tell you, but I think we should save the best for last.”

He still wants to draw it out, just like he’s been doing this entire trial, to make it as ~fun~ as possible, because he is still twistedly desperately trying to have fun with his murderous assholery. And he’s trying to make it as cruel as possible too, so that they’ll all believe he’s totally evil and therefore totally the mastermind.

Kokichi: “Even if I told you, would you guys really believe a liar like me?”

Yeah, he knows that people are going to put up resistance to the idea once he does accuse Gonta, just because it’s him saying it. But he also knows that Shuichi will face things objectively and prove it for him anyway once he gets to that point.

Kokichi: “That doesn’t mean *all* of Shuichi’s deductions are lies, y’know.”

Oh, really, Kokichi? But I thought that if one person lies about one thing then they’re instantly a horrible backstabber and you can’t trust them about anything, and so everything they say might as well be considered a lie? Yeah, too bad for Kokichi that narrative doesn’t work here where he still needs Shuichi to be credible in order for him to prove to everyone that Gonta did it.

So admittedly, these two back routes for trial 4 are much less ridiculous and more pointed than the ones from trials 2 and 3, and while the first one awkwardly doesn’t go anywhere, this one actually does. But I’m still not hugely fond of them and don’t like to think they’d be canon, simply because it’s not like Shuichi to use underhanded tactics like this unless he really feels it’s necessary.

These lies are also more underhanded than the canon lie later in this trial, because that one straightforwardly “proves” that Kokichi went to the roof, whereas these two are all about trying to manipulate Kokichi into admitting something that Shuichi’s lie itself doesn’t actually prove (which might also be why Kokichi is so amused by this lie when that’s not at all how he reacts to the upcoming one). That’s worse than anything Shuichi does canonically. This is Shuichi stooping to Kokichi’s level even more than he does in canon, not because he has to but just because he can. He’s better than that.

Trial 5, Back Route 1

This back route is almost my favourite one. Almost. And then it isn’t.

This is the first debate after Exisal Kokichi appears and shows everyone the video, in which you’re supposed to argue that Kaito’s cause of death couldn’t have been the hydraulic press because of the safety function.

Himiko: “Kaito got crushed to death.”

But instead of firing the safety function at this, you can turn the “Murder Video” bullet into “Survival Video” and fire it here.

Shuichi: “I still… don’t believe it. Is that video real?”

Because Shuichi doesn’t want to accept Kaito’s death, even when it’s staring him in the face, of course!

Shuichi: “It could have been edited to make it *look* like Kaito was killed by the press.”

Exisal Kaito: “Damn right!”

[the Exisal leaps over into Kaito’s spot]

Exisal Kaito: “There’s no way this Luminary of the Stars would die that easily!”

I love that this makes Kaito be himself again for a moment. Of course he’s too invincible and too luminary and too Kaito to die that easily! That’s exactly what Shuichi’s believing right now!

(And it’s exactly what Kaito hasn’t truly believed about himself in a while. But since he’s playing an overexaggerated version of himself that Kokichi might act out, and since he’s talking about how he totally wouldn’t ever die, that’s a reason to pretend like he’s the Luminary of the Stars, even though he doesn’t truly feel he deserves that title any more.)

Tsumugi: “K-Kaito again!?”

[the Exisal leaps back to Kokichi’s spot]

Exisal Kokichi: “Would you have liked it better if it turned out like that? Ah-haha, you wish!”

But Kaito can’t actually stick with that for more than a brief second, no matter how much he must have liked the excuse to pretend he really is invincible, because he’s here to convince Shuichi that he’s dead. I don’t think this brief switch to his own voice was actually scripted, for the same reasons I argued back in the main commentary that Kaito starting out as himself at first wasn’t scripted. Kokichi would have preferred it if they never heard both voices and therefore never even considered the possibility that the Kokichi voice could be faked.

Nonetheless, Kaito’s doing a good job of ad-libbing Kokichi’s behaviour after he switches back, because of course Kokichi would enjoy rubbing Shuichi’s denial and irrational belief in Kaito’s invincibility in his face. The delivery of the “you wish” is especially dickish, and I am forever impressed at Kaito being able to do this kind of thing.

Shuichi: (Ah!)

Shuichi is not happy at being toyed with like this.

Exisal Kokichi: “Like I said, that footage isn’t edited at all. It recorded the event completely as is. Kaito was crushed! His bones went crunch, and his organs went squish!”

Yikes. This part at least is very definitely scripted, and, again, it is incredible that Kaito can act this out and make himself say these words. He manages to sound genuinely gleeful about the gruesome part, even though that is actually what he did to Kokichi while he was still alive. Aaaaaa, Kaito. I bet he was very, very glad in the canon version of events that he never had to recite this bit of the script.

Himiko: *huuurp*… “I remembered the video… And all my bittersweet memories of him…”

Himiko still seems to be reasonably upset about Kaito’s death!

Tsumugi: “Hold those memories within you… or they’ll just escape as sour vomit.”

Meanwhile Tsumugi sure seems to give absolutely no fucks that Kaito was horribly killed, does she.

Shuichi: “But we all know Kokichi loves to lie. And that he’s a Remnant of Despair. That leads me to believe there’s something he’s not telling us about that video. I don’t think that video showed the murder at all! All we saw was a living body!”

Questioning the validity of the video is quite a reasonable thing to do at this point, even despite all of Exisal Kokichi’s insistence that it couldn’t have been edited. But it’s still very unlikely that this’d ever actually cut the trial short, because without knowing why Kokichi would fake the video, which we don’t figure out until we learn that Monokuma doesn’t know what happened, there’s no reason to be certain that it even was faked at all. Trying to figure out how it could have been faked at that point is just trying to solve a puzzle that might not even have a solution.

Exisal Kokichi: “Nee-heehee… I don’t blame you for not believing it. It’s hard to believe a smug idiot like Kaito got squished like a bug, right?”

Says Kaito. Still very scripted, still delightful that Kaito is forcing himself to say all these things designed to taunt and hurt Shuichi and make himself sound pathetic and worthless. He is doing whatever it takes to get Shuichi to drop this.

Exisal Kokichi: “But your lie won’t work here, Shuichi. No, what you said isn’t even a lie! It’s just wishful thinking!”

And of course Kokichi in the script, having predicted the possibility of Shuichi desperately trying to deny Kaito’s death even after seeing the video, would still want to make it seem all about lies despite knowing full well that Shuichi reacting like this wouldn’t (shouldn’t) have anything to do with lying at all. Kaito can’t enjoy dismissing Shuichi’s wishful thinking like it’s meaningless to hope for something better, especially when he knows that Shuichi’s right to. Wishful thinking is believing that the impossible is possible!

Shuichi: “…” (You’re wrong, Kokichi. My emotional reaction is the lie. I put on this act to get what I want from you. I know that these class trials demand that someone dies. I’m prepared for that.)

And then, this back route, which was being really delightful, just goes and shoots itself in the foot and completely invalidates itself. What the fuck do you mean Shuichi was only pretending to desperately want Kaito to be alive?

If Shuichi has accepted the fact that someone’s dead, and is also sure that he’s talking to Kokichi, that means he’s already accepted that Kaito is dead. This is straight-up contradicted by canon, in which Shuichi only properly accepts that Kaito is dead just before the Debate Scrum, which is still a while from now. Acting like he’s totally already accepted it here completely compromises Shuichi’s emotional progression for the first part of this trial, which is one of the most fun parts!

(There was even that one bit right here where Shuichi went (Ah!) in his inner monologue, which is an internal reaction that wouldn’t be part of this hypothetical lie and sure implies that his emotional reaction really was genuine, but nah, that was never a thing, right.)

And the only reason they did this, probably? Because back routes must totally always involve lies of some kind. As if you couldn’t possibly have an interesting alternate route in a debate that doesn’t require lying (even though the second back route in trial 3 actually did not contain a lie at all). I bet the writers came up with this fun idea of Shuichi trying to deny the video, and then went “wait, shit, that’s not actually a lie; we need to make it a lie somehow otherwise it can’t be a back route”. No, you don’t!!! This is, again, making Shuichi far too underhanded and manipulative for his character, especially given the desperate state of mind he is canonically supposed to be in at this point in the trial. Gah. This is so disappointing.

Honestly, I’d have been tempted to actually include this back route in my main coverage of trial 5 if it hadn’t been for this. If they’d actually made this about more of Shuichi’s desperate denial like it should have been, with bonus Kaito briefly being his totally-invincible self and then reciting some painfully cruel scripted lines that he must have hated to say, it’d have been a delightful addition and there’d have been very little reason for me not to include it!

Also, if they’d made this back route be actually about Shuichi’s denial, it would also have been amusingly similar to the hypothetical alternate route I proposed in the main commentary, in which Shuichi could have picked up on Exisal Kokichi’s comment about his singular wound to desperately try and tell himself it was Kaito in there after all. That one wouldn’t have involved lying either, and wouldn’t have needed to to still be interesting! (That part came later on, just after the Debate Scrum in which he accepted Kaito’s death, but then it’d have been a brief lapse in Shuichi’s resolve to accept the truth, kind of like trial 1’s back route.)

Shuichi: (My intuition is telling me there’s something wrong with that video. It was shot for a reason.)

Shuichi should be perfectly allowed to have his detective’s intuition tell him this while also having his Shuichi Saihara side desperately want to deny the video just because he can’t bear the thought of losing Kaito. They shouldn’t have to randomly erase Shuichi’s emotional side here to justify this alternative route.

Shuichi: (Is there a hint in what Kokichi has said? Some key to the mystery?)

There is not, because nearly everything Exisal Kokichi said in response to this was very clearly scripted, and Kokichi would have carefully made sure that none of it would give any hints as to what’s really going on in the video or why he shot it. All he did was reiterate that the footage wasn’t edited, and then distract from the topic with lots of taunting about Kaito’s death and Shuichi’s denial.

Maki: “Isn’t this enough? Kokichi is the culprit. He brought the evidence and even confessed to the murder.”

But Shuichi doesn’t get more time to think about this, because Maki is very quick to insist that Kokichi did it, so that she can get him killed.

Shuichi: “That doesn’t make sense! Not even Kokichi would do something that stupid!”

I am amused by how Shuichi’s wording implies that he thinks Kokichi is usually rather stupid, even if not this much so. That’s not quite what he really means… but Kokichi was rather stupid about this plan in multiple ways.

Tsumugi: “Is common sense going to work here? On the Remnants of Despair, I mean.”

Tsumugi is still trying to remind everyone that this is definitely all about Remnants of Despair, even though them writing off Kokichi’s strange actions because of that would likely lead to them not finding the real truth and getting her game into trouble. (Kaito must be already getting very confused about what these Remnants of Despair are in this turn of events.)

Then Keebo is the one to get us back on track, because apparently when Shuichi mentioned earlier that the video could have just showed a living body, Keebo ran a mental search on the word “living” and got a “hit” of the press’s safety function. Which is an odd way to recall a relevant fact like that. This is Keebo being less human-seeming than usual, if he had to consciously run a search instead of just remembering it like a regular person would. Especially since he himself had such a personal beef with the safety function earlier.

Trial 5, Back Route 2

This is a little later on but still before the intermission, after Shuichi has figured out that a third party entered the hangar using an Exisal and is trying to prove how that was possible. You’re supposed to point out that someone used an Electrohammer to hijack one, but instead…

Maki: “…so getting inside one would’ve been impossible.”

…you can turn “Hatch’s Electronic Lock” (which refers to the locks on the Exisals’ cockpits) into “Unlocked Hatch” and fire it here.

Shuichi: “While investigating the Exisals, I noticed that they have no locks on their cockpit hatches.”

But Shuichi, if you really did notice that while investigating them, then why didn’t you try opening the red one that was there in the hangar? In fact, why doesn’t Maki just leap over there right now to open the cockpit and murder Kokichi to death like she’s been wanting to this whole time?

Shuichi: “It should have been possible to get into the cockpit, providing they could reach it.”

Maki: “But that’s reckless, absurd, and useless… Jump inside a moving Exisal? That’s not really possible.”

Shuichi: “No, I think it is. You would need to be quick, agile, athletic and stealthy… I can think of at least one person who fits that description.”

Shuichi is presumably making a point of how only Maki could be capable of jumping into a moving Exisal to try and make her defend herself by saying they were locked, which would be admitting she knew about the locks and therefore incriminating herself.

Maki: “…What? Are you implying that it’s m—”

Exisal Kokichi: “Oooh, I see! And since he’s a robot, he could have some robo-communication function!”

Aaa, Kaito! We’re entirely in ad-lib territory here, so this is him defending Maki by changing the subject to Kokichi’s usual robophobic dickery! The real Kokichi would be much happier using this opportunity to be more of a dick to Maki, not Keebo, and rub in how much of an evil stealthy murderous assassin she is.

…Of course, Kaito knows Maki did this and wants Shuichi to figure it out. So perhaps this is because he’s not particularly thrilled at the underhanded way Shuichi is going about this, because of course he knows Shuichi’s lying about the lock on the Exisal.

Keebo: “As I’ve said, my speed, agility, and strength are equal to that of a human, if not weaker!” […]

Tsumugi: “The selling point of being a robot is being good in combat, but… poor Keebo…”

Insert some of my usual grumbling about Keebo never using his goddamn weapons until chapter 6 for no adequately-justified reason here.

Maki: “Stop this pointless conversation, Shuichi. If you want to say something, say it already.”

Maki can clearly tell Shuichi is up to something and is quite understandably annoyed at him beating around the bush like this.

Shuichi: “As the Ultimate Assassin, you would be able to jump into that Exisal, correct?”

Maki: “…Impossible. If I could do that, I would’ve turned the Exisal into scrap on the first day.”

Shuichi: “Maybe. Unless you were hiding your true potential, in which case…”

Heh, the image of Maki using her badass assassin powers to even assassinate the Exisals and singlehandedly save everyone at once is a fun image. And she may well have been deliberately hiding her true potential to begin with since she didn’t want anyone to know she was an assassin at first – but she’d have had no reason not to come chapter 3.

Maki: “…Do you really suspect me that much?”

Shuichi: “No, actually. I’m trying to find a way to prove that you *couldn’t* be the intruder.”

What Shuichi is saying sounds like something that could be true because he doesn’t want to suspect his friend… but he’s lying. He’s saying this to try and make Maki admit that she knew about the lock and prove she’s the intruder, because he does suspect her the most. This is very uncomfortably underhanded and manipulative of him

And this works – Maki goes on to explain that there’s a lock on the cockpits, meaning she couldn’t have got inside.

Shuichi: (…You just made something very clear to me, Maki. You do know something after all, and you’re hiding it from me!)

And you’re hiding your intentions for this conversation and lying to her, so really right now you’re both being as bad as each other, Shuichi! This back route is in a similar vein to the ones in trial 4, in which Shuichi lies to try and coax information out of someone whom he knows is hiding something from him. It was one thing when that person was Kokichi and Shuichi was essentially just turning his own tactics against him. But this is Shuichi being deceptive and manipulative towards his friend, even if it is a friend who’s hiding something from him, and that makes me even more uncomfortable.

Shuichi: “How do you know there’s an electronic lock on the Exisal’s hatch?”

Maki: “… …Because I checked it during the investigation.”

Shuichi: “That can’t be true. I’m the only person Monokuma told about those locks.”

Maki: “…Just you? I see. If that’s the case… Then you lied just to confirm if I knew about the electronic lock.”

I’m glad that Maki realises he did that and calls him out on that.

Shuichi: “…Yes, I did, and I’m sorry.”

If you’re sorry then you should have just not done it in the first place, Shuichi! It’s perfectly possible to force her to admit the truth just by proving she had to have done it by talking about her used Electrohammer – which gets her to pretty quickly concede that she’s the third party – so why would you bother using this underhanded manipulative method on your friend when you don’t have to!?

Maki: “When Monokuma explained it to you, I just happened to overhear it. That’s all.”

Shuichi: “You’re lying, Maki. You know about the locks because you’ve been inside one of the cockpits.”

Maki: “So annoying… Do you want to die? You’re the one who’s lying!”

Both of you have been lying and being dicks to each other right now! But only one of you is doing it because you’re broken and manipulated into feeling like it’s necessary, and that one is not Shuichi!

I’m also quite sad that Kaito does not try and step in at any point to break this up, like he did that one time in canon for a similar argument between Shuichi and Maki. Kaito must hate seeing the two of them lashing out at each other like this, Shuichi using unnecessarily dickish tactics and Maki hiding the fact that she thinks she killed him for reasons he still doesn’t understand. Exisal Kokichi only gets that one earlier line about Keebo in this whole back route, and it’s another thing that’s disappointing to me about this one.

Shuichi: (It looks like… she’s never going to admit it on her own. There’s something important that she’s protecting by keeping her mouth shut.)

At least Shuichi believes that if Maki is being so stubborn about this, it must be because she’s protecting something. The actual truth is a lot more painful than that.

Shuichi: (In that case, I have to keep pushing.)

You could try doing that by using the truth and actually proving she did it instead of this manipulative bullshit, Shuichi. If she’s stubborn enough that she’s never going to admit it without proof, then just prove it already.

Himiko is the one to save us and get us back on track this time, with a brief surprising interlude in which she seems like she’s not going to say her magic could have unlocked an Exisal… but then she says her magic would have been an option alongside an Electrohammer after all.

Once it reconverges, Shuichi is suddenly talking again about a mysterious “third party”, like he wasn’t just making a huge point about how Maki in particular knew more about the Exisals than she should and is already very clearly the third party in question. These back routes don’t always reconverge very smoothly.

So, yes. It’s interesting to see some alternative possibilities, but almost all of these back routes do not deserve to be considered canon or even ambiguously canon. Either they involve Shuichi being way dumber than normal and overlooking the correct option for no particular reason, or they involve Shuichi being far more dickishly underhanded and manipulative than he should be. The only potentially worthwhile ones are the ones about Shuichi running away from the truth, which is only one and a half of them. That first one in trial five frustrates me so much – it was this close to being absolutely delightful, and then they ruined it! Aaargh.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #bonus content #back routes #commentary

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