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ilovewriting06 · 2 months

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Mischief and Angel- Part 6

A/N- I hope you remember Mrs. Mitchel (she's the one that spreads the rumors, Beacon Hills' very own Karen) because she's making a comeback in this part, and I have never hated writing a character so much in my life. I hope you like it!

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I narrow my eyes at the woman standing in front of me in the local Target, "Hello, Mrs. Mitchel."

She raises an eyebrow before smiling like she didn't accuse me of keeping Stiles from his child and that I was a prostitute that had an Only Fans.

"Hello, Y/n"

I scowl before humming, "I've been meaning to talk to you."

She nods and goes to speak but I cut her off, "What the hell made you think it was okay to make up lies about Stiles and I? I'll have you know that I'm not pregnant and I also don't have an Only Fans. Stiles and I have been together since we were 14 and got engaged because we love each other, not because I blackmailed him. Your gossiping has to stop! Ms. Richards still gets asked if she's still married to some random dude in Bora Bora. She literally went there for a week for vacation, with her best friend and now she can't escape the rumors."

I take a second to catch my breath before I'm going off again, "You're a lonely old woman that takes pleasure in making up lies about others and it's appalling. I have enough going on and I don't need your lies making it any worse. I'm planning a wedding, I'm looking at houses, I'm trying to finish high school with good grades, not to mention all the other stuff going on in my life that you don't even know about. I'm just warning you that if you make another story up about my life, or Stiles' life, or anyone's life for that matter, you're going to end up with no one. You screw people over one too many times and before you know it you won't have anyone, and there will be no one to blame except you."

Mrs. Mitchel stares at me with wide eyes as a small group of people that had gathered during my rant nod in agreement with what I said. She clears her throat, "Well then, no need to be rude. It's very unbecoming for a young lady. How you're engaged I'll never know. He must have brain damage."

My jaw drops as I watch her with wide eyes, "He has brain-what?! I'll have you know that he maintains a 4.0 GPA, currently stands as the valedictorian, and I'm damn proud of him too. I get that you're lonely and miserable and have no friends but that doesn't give you a right to be so rude to others. Maybe if you stopped being a bitch you'd be able to make some friends!"

Mrs. Mitchel's face turns red as the group of people grows and they all murmur agreements at what I said. I go to say something else when Stiles appears around the corner holding up a fluffy blanket, "I know you said we didn't need anymore blankets but this thing feels like a cloud. Can we plea-..." He stops mid sentence when he looks up to see the group of people and an angry Mrs. Mitchel. He looks at me before sighing, "Lord, what did you do?"

I scoff, "Me?! I didn't do anything she's the one that started all those stupid rumors! I was just telling her how it was."

Stiles lets out a deep breath before throwing the blanket in the cart, "Well, carry on, just don't touch her. She'd try and charge you with assault."

Mrs. Mitchel takes that as her queue to start talking, and dear God does she use her words to hurt, "You are the nastiest, rudest, most crass young lady I have ever met. I hope your marriage fails and he runs off with someone who is far better than you. It shouldn't be hard he can probably go to the nearest pet store and pick up a rat."

I go to take a step towards her but an arm grabs me by the waist and pulls me back so I can't touch her, but it doesn't stop me from trying, "That's it! Stiles, let me go!"

Stiles shakes his head and I know he won't let me go so I turn my deadly glare up to 1000 and aim it at Mrs. Mitchel, "You say I'm crass and rude but you are the literal definition of both of those words!"

She scoffs and her hand tightens on the handle of her cart, "You're very overdramatic and you have no care or sympathy for others."

My mouth drops as my eyes widen but I don't get a chance to speak because she cuts in again with the sharpest, most painful words she could possibly say, "God, I hope you never have any kids, you'd probably manage to kill them within a month because of your lack of care!"

At those words it feels like a knife just stabbed into my heart and was then twisted. I deflate in Stiles' hold remembering how I lost our baby at approximately one month. I fight back tears and the look of triumph on Mrs. Mitchel's face makes me feel like I'm going to be sick.

I swallow around the lump in my throat as Stiles spins me around and pulls me into his chest trying to cradle me from the harsh words and wishes of an angry and cruel woman. Stiles holds me tight as he looks at Mrs. Mitchel, "You are one evil woman. You have no idea how personal that was you angry old witch! Why can't you just let people be happy? You know I could have you arrested for a public disturbance."

"Don't worry Stiles, that's exactly what's going to happen."

I glance over to see the crowd of people parting like the red sea before Parrish appears. He glares at Mrs. Mitchel before walking forward and slapping on the cuffs, "Gladys Mitchel, you are under arrest for disturbing the peace in a public setting. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

As Mrs. Mitchel pales Parrish shakes his head, "For a sixty year old woman you sure are a jerk."

After Parrish and Mrs. Mitchel leave, the group scatters for the most part except a couple stragglers who send us looks of sympathy. One little old woman, no younger than 70 steps forward with a small frown, "Don't listen to old Gladys, she's wrong. You will make a fantastic mother."

She pats my back before hobbling away with her cane and I can't help but smile a little bit.

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I curl up around Stiles in our bed as he turns on a random movie before pulling me even closer, "I am so sorry, Angel. I know how much that hurt but Angel, it wasn't your fault."

I know he's telling me the miscarriage wasn't my fault and it causes me to melt into him because I know he's right. I did everything right when I found out I was pregnant but it doesn't stop the pain and what ifs.

Stiles must know what I'm thinking because he rubs my back and whispers, "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault."

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The next day at school the pack surrounds us like it's their duty to protect us and the other students keep praising us like we stopped a demon from hell from burning the town down. True story, it was just last week that, that had happened.

At first it was comforting to have at least one member of the pack around me but now it's starting to get claustrophobic. I sigh as Scott slides in the chair beside me and officially squishes me between him and Isaac. I groan and glare down at my notebook before wiggling, "Okay, that's it."

Both boys look at me and I frown, "Look, I love you guys and I love that you're trying to make me feel better but I'm okay now. Yeah I know what she said was harsh but I'm over it. Does it still hurt? Yes, but I also know that she's wrong and was just saying something in the heat of the moment. I love you guys but I need some breathing room."

Isaac nods and scooches over slightly so he's not pressed right against me but Scott cocks his head to the side like the puppy he is and says, "But you're still sad. I can smell it."

I snort, "I miss Stiles, I haven't seen him in like two hours and Lily is pacing right now and acting like a mopey puppy."

His eyebrows furrow, "Lily?"

I muffle a laugh at the look on his face before answering him, "That's what Stiles and I decided to name the wolf. You guys say that I smell like lilies so we started calling her Lily."

Scott nods and finally moves so he isn't touching me, "Well, you only have like one more period before school is over and you can go find Stiles."

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I dart down the hall to Stiles' locker to see him putting his books away. I smile as Lily's tail starts wagging and she rolls over as the smell of our mate fills our senses. I blink back into the moment and the next thing I know I'm wrapped around Stiles.

"Woah! Someone's feeling cuddly."

I whine into his neck, "Missed you."

He presses a kiss to my temple and rubs my back, "I missed you too, Angel."

I nuzzle his neck before pulling back and pulling him into a kiss. He groans into the kiss and pulls me closer by the hips which causes me to wrap my arms around his neck. We get lost in the kiss before pulling apart as someone groans, "Really?! You couldn't wait until you got home?"

I turn to see a grumpy Scott who's holding Kira's hand. Kira elbows him with a soft smile, "Be nice, they haven't seen each other in a couple hours and we already know how hard that is for both of them."

I smile at Kira as Stiles turns back to his locker and Scott huffs, "Yeah, fine."

Kira shakes her head slightly before she looks at me, "Hey! How are you doing now?"

I shrug, "Meh, it doesn't really bother me anymore I've just been planning a wedding in my head, looking up houses for sale in the area, and figuring out where the hell Amelia and her pack are going to be staying, so I'm full of excited nervousness."

Kira doesn't get a chance to answer because Lydia, Allison, and Erica join our little group and Lydia raises an eyebrow, "Have you decided what you want for your bachelorette party yet? As maid of honor I need to know these things. Plus we need to decide when to get a dress fitting and what styles you want. Not to mention we need to find a venue and color scheme."

Stiles slams his locker shut before spinning around with a raised eyebrow, "Y/n/n, already decided on a few of those things."

I nod and shrug, "Yeah, Stiles and I found a venue we like and I decided on the colors a few weeks ago too."

Lydia smiles and loops her arm with mine, "Great! We need to hang out and plan the rest of the wedding."

I open my mouth before closing it again and looking at Stiles. He smiles and shakes his head, "Already told you Angel, you can do whatever you want. You don't need to have me there and I personally don't feel like sitting there and listen to you guys talk about dress styles and fabric choices."

I frown as Lydia nods with a bright smile, "Good, fantastic, what do you say we get together tonight and work on it."

I whine slightly at that which causes Lydia to look at me in concern, "What's wrong?"

I look at Stiles with sad eyes and Lydia hums, "Okay, got it. You need some Stiles time."

I nod and Lydia shrugs, "What about this weekend? We can do a sleepover on Friday and plan on Saturday, maybe a little on Friday night too."

Stiles is surprisingly the one to answer, "I think it's a good idea. We need to get used to being apart for long periods of time and the boys and I can have a boys night or something."

I sigh knowing he's right before nodding, "Yeah, he's right but no promises I won't be a buzzkill for a little while."

Lydia scoffs, "Please, Erica will be there and from what I hear she has some updates about her and Boyd. You'll be too occupied to be a buzzkill."

My eyes widen and I look up to see a blushing Erica who refuses to make eye contact. I look at Stiles and see that he's thinking the same thing as me, about fucking time.

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A/N- If everything goes to plan there is two (possibly three) parts before things get angsty and sad. I'll give a warning at the beginning of the sad one!

Tag List: @ah-blossom

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #dylan o’brien #scott mccall #stiles stilinksi x reader #dylan o’brien x reader #stiles x reader #allison argent #lydia martin #erica reyes #isaac lahey #vernon boyd #kira yukimura #mischief and angel

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sirowsky-stories · 9 months

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Collision

Part 5

Description: Pero knows what he needs to do, but knowing it doesn't help when he can't convince himself to leave while he's so confused about his own feelings.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x OFC, no reader insert, Pero's pov, conspiracy, cursing, angst, use of the word hackers, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, secret identity, AU fic. Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 5700 Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is conversation heavy. And the next one will feature a small timegap to move things along a little.

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It takes two hours to set up the computer system and connect it to the safehouse’s secure network, but once it’s done, Will goes straight to work. True to his word, he’s not here for a vacation. Rather, he seems intent on unraveling this mystery completely, starkly offended that the people behind it have managed to sneak past his defenses. Pero helps him get everything ready, but he can’t help with the search, so once the other man goes to work, he returns downstairs. Where Gillian’s waiting.

She’s leaning against the wall of the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, but when he comes down the stairs, she pushes off the exposed wood and crosses her arms over her waist.

“Who are you really?” she demands, clearly jarred by Will’s earlier comment.

He’s been waiting for this. Her natural inclination to help and care for others have kept her from prodding, and she’s seen how protective and tender he’s been towards Niki from the beginning of this mess, which has probably left her feeling largely at ease with him. But now, when there’s another source of information, when she’s no longer alone with him and technically at his mercy, she’s seemingly decided that the answers which didn’t feel important enough to ask for before, have since become necessary.

“Why don’t we take a seat. I’m gonna need some coffee for this,” he suggests, and then moves into the kitchen to start making the brew.

He can hear that she follows and sits down by the breakfast table section of the kitchen island behind him, so he starts talking while he works.

“In my late teens, I discovered that going through school being bullied or avoided by every kid I’d ever been around, had resulted in an exceptional ability to read people. I could tell from observing someone for just brief moments at a time, not just what type of character they were, but whether they had secrets, what kinds of fears plagued them, what their favorite things were, and so on. And I was bitter and angry enough, even back then, that I saw no reason to use that skill for anything helpful. So, I started my own little criminal empire instead.”

He turns around and leans against the counter once the coffee machine has started working, and when he meets her eyes, she looks only curious. Through her work, she’s had to learn to listen to people and decipher the truthfulness of what she hears, while remaining as neutral as possible herself. He knows that she’s not gonna interrupt him, and that she’ll likely only asks questions if there’s something in his story that she doesn’t understand.

“Like with most enterprises, criminal or otherwise, I started small,” he continues. “I tricked or blackmailed people out of things that were precious to them for one reason or another. Mostly money, because it was useful to me, but also because in this country that seems to be what everyone holds most dear, even those who don’t seem like they do. And in the beginning, each successful scam was such a victory that I soon started thinking about bigger things. But I also understood from the start that if I was ever gonna have a chance to stay alive in the criminal world, I’d need an alias. So, I waited until I’d managed to create a completely separate person who could take the blame for all the stealing, before I went after my first big target.”

“What do you mean by a separate person?” she asks, when he pauses to move one of the stools to the other side of the island, so that he can sit opposite her.

“Another identity, but a ghost. Someone known only by name and voice, never seen, and entirely untraceable, both in person and online. He had no history and no future, he was just a voice on the phone, making demands. I called that ghost Mr. Hood, because I only ever stole money from those who could afford it, and I never took more than a small percentage of what they really had. And if it was an item I took, it was never expensive paintings or jewelry. Instead, I would trick people out of their comfort items. Things with sentimental value, as a way of punishing them for their cruelty.”

“Their cruelty?”

“Yes. I specifically targeted people who were secretly abusive or criminal, or just mean motherfuckers who trampled all over everyone around them just because they could. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that what I did was good, but I would never have taken from someone who was just going through life doing the best they could with as much humility and compassion as they could spare, no matter how much money they had. I wanted the crooks. I wanted to punish people for their indifference and lack of appreciation for their own fortunes, not to mention the people they crushed along the way.”

He stops himself there, because he’s getting riled up thinking about this. There are so many faces in his head. People who could’ve helped so many with their riches or their influence, but instead always did the opposite. The faces of his worst bullies from childhood flood his mind, and he closes his eyes against the painful memories. The beatings and the degradation. The constant public humiliation. If just one person had told them to stop-…

“So, basically an evil Robin Hood,” Gillian suggests, interrupting his downward spiral and drawing him back to the present.

He takes a calming breath, allowing her steady voice to chase away the sounds of his own bones breaking, etched into his memory bank forever.

“Maybe not evil,” he quietly counters, not at all sure if that’s true. “But definitely dark.”

“Hm. Well, given this place, I guess you were successful?” she ponders, and he nods.

“Very. There are way too many needlessly cruel people in the world.”

“You ever kill anyone?” she wonders, but the question isn’t accusatory.

“Yes. When you take on people associated with drug cartels and mafia’s, you kinda have to be ready to spill blood to protect yourself.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… You stole money from drug cartels?” she asks with a touch of disbelief, and when he nods again, her eyebrows hit the roof. “That’s ballsy…”

“Not really. Those were the easiest paydays, because my victims had nowhere to turn. With the average rich scumbag there was always the risk that they’d involve law enforcement, which I could handle since my alias was airtight and my own identity was never at risk, but it would also mean having to abandon the mark. Whereas with cartel members, if I could find a good enough fear or damaging enough secret, I could pin a person to a wall from which they had no escape in any direction. And best of all, who’s gonna believe that person when they try to explain to their boss that they were blackmailed into stealing the money, rather than pocketing it themselves?”

“Shit. You really did have your own little empire,” she concludes, leaning back in her seat with a mildly impressed look in her eyes.

“I’m not proud of it,” he admits, before getting up and turning his back to her while he pours himself a generous cup of the now finished beverage.

“Why?” she challenges. “What happened that made you change tracks and decide to become a factory worker?”

He doesn’t remember exactly when it had happened. When he’d decided that he was done with it, but he knows the reasoning behind it. It hadn’t been obvious to him even as he’d walked away from Mr. Hood and everything he’d built. Not until years later had the reasoning finally become clear to him. But neither then nor now does he know when that seed had first been planted in his mind.

“My own reflection,” he answers, staring down into the dark liquid, looking for a strength that it can’t give him. “Over time… seeing myself in the mirror got increasingly unpleasant. And it took me a long time to understand why, but I know now that it was because of how cold and dead my eyes had become. I looked at myself and I saw someone worse than the people who had hurt me, and even though I didn’t realize it right away, it scared me so much that I couldn’t keep going.”

It’s never made him feel stupid or less of a man to admit to himself that he went too far. But it does still make him feel guilty, which is why he won’t meet her eyes to find out what she’s thinking about him right now. Part of him has always wanted to tell Niki, but then, that would’ve meant changing the dynamic of their relationship, and he’s been too scared of losing the comforting simplicity between them, to dare take that step.

“And how does William fit into all this?” Gillian finally asks, and her lack of comments or further questions about his decision to walk away, gives Pero the confidence to look up at her again.

She still just looks curious. But this is a question that he can’t answer.

“You’ll have to ask him about that. It’s not my story to tell.”

With that, he decides that their conversation is over. For now, anyway. Niki’s been alone for at least half an hour already, and while she should be out of danger, he doesn’t feel good about leaving her without supervision for very long. There’s still a risk of delayed complications or other problems emerging. He takes his coffee and heads back to the bedroom, hearing no objections from the nurse, so he assumes that she’s satisfied with his answers for the time being.

To his surprise, Niki’s awake again when he steps in, so he closes the door behind him to give them some privacy. The room is so softly lit by how the daylight is filtered through the thick and richly green vegetation outside the windows, that she looks almost as though some masterful artist had painted her into existence.

“Hey. How are you?” he asks while approaching the bed.

“Still thirsty,” she replies, so he reaches for the glass of water with the straw, still standing on a tray on top of one of the monitors beside the bed.

He raises the backrest once again, and she drinks in slow but long gulps this time, until the glass is completely empty.

“More?” he asks, but she shakes her head.

“I’m good for now. Thank you.”

He sets the glass down and then takes a seat in the chair, leaving her sitting upright for a while to let the water settle into her stomach.

“What’s happened?” she asks after a minute, and he realizes that he’s taken her hand and that he’s fighting strong emotions that are trying to claw through his chest.

It’s a simple question, but he struggles to find an answer. Too much has happened, but not really around them, just inside of him. And how is he supposed to explain that when he doesn’t even understand it himself? He runs a hand over his face in frustration. He wishes that he could hug her. That he could crawl into that bed with her and beg her to hold him, cradle him until he falls asleep, because he’s so tired.

It’s only been two days, but he’s already exhausted in mind, spirit and body. How is he supposed to protect her when he can’t even stomach two fucking days of stress without crumbling into a nervous pile of uselessness?

“Pero? Talk to me.”

Her voice is soft, but there’s fear in it, and he hates hearing that.

“Someone I know showed up here this morning,” he says, bottling up his emotions and forcing himself to stay on track. To be useful. “His name’s William and he’s the one who helped me find out who’s after you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she counters, squeezing his hand to urge him to look at her, clearly seeing right through his attempt to be stoic.

He notices that her grip is getting strong again. She’s a mechanic, her hands have been calloused and sure for as long as he’s known her. Accustomed and comfortable working with metal tools and tightly wound nuts and bolts. And when he meets her eyes, he finds them every bit as piercing but gentle as they’ve always been when directed at him.

“I don’t know what to do…” he confesses, and all at once, the emotions he just buried are overpowering him again, even worse this time.

He pulls free of her hand, even though all he wants is to hold it tighter, and drops forwards in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head fall into his open hands while he fights against desperate sobs, only just managing to hold them back.

“I’m such a fucked up person, I don’t even have friends to ask for help! We’ve got an entire government and whole other country hunting us and the best I can do is run and hide because all I’ve got is myself,” he rambles, shaking his head between the fingers he’s digging into his scalp.

“Pero-…” she tries, but he cuts her off.

“Don’t get attached, don’t start caring, don’t let people manipulate you,” he rants, reciting the rules he’s lived by as if they’re some magical shield that’ll protect him against the pain which courses through him with each breath. “I’ve spent my whole life watching people say how much they love their friends and partners, only to use and manipulate and lie to them all the time! All the fucking time! Love isn’t real, that’s what I always believed. Because how could it be when no one… no one I ever met or observed, actually seemed to care that much about their supposed loved ones? So, why make friends when I know that they’ll only hurt me down the line? Why give a shit when no one else does?”

He pauses to wipe the tears from his eyes before they can fall. He’s not even sure why he’s crying, except for the pain. Which he also doesn’t know the real source of.

“I don’t know how people do it… how they can live so falsely and act so happy. I mean, I can’t say if I’ve ever been happy. I don’t think so. But at least I’ve never strung anyone along with promises of a great future together, only to turn around and shit on them. If that’s happiness then I don’t want it.”

He falls silent then, with a final big sigh, and leans back in his chair with his head still hanging low against his chest. Feeling defeated by the entire world, somehow.

“What do you want?” Niki asks then, and she sounds so careful.

As if the question alone has the power to break him. And given that he’s been thinking about this very thing all morning, without coming up with any answers, it doesn’t seem impossible that it might. Once again he tries to consider it. To put his life into perspective and search for the things that matter to him, along with the things that don’t. It shouldn’t be this hard to figure out, but it damned well is.

“I’ve been trying to work that out, but honestly… I still don’t know,” he admits, but it’s not good enough.

She deserves more effort than that, so he keeps talking, hoping that if he just spews out enough words, eventually the right ones will just fall out and make everything okay.

“I want you to live and be free, and I want the baby to live. I know that much. I’m just not sure why. What it means to me, you, or the baby. I don’t know if it means what you might want it to. Or if you even want me like that. We never talked about it, because it wasn’t supposed to happen, we weren’t supposed to be that to each other, but now everything’s upside down and because we never talked, we don’t know this shit, or anything about each other, and it’s all such a god damned mess.”

The words run out, so he just sits there, staring at his own hands, too cowardly to meet her gaze and find out what she thinks about what he’s saying. Not because he worries that she might not like what she hears, but because he worries that she’ll look indifferent. That he doesn’t matter to her at all. He’s never been concerned about her opinion of him before, since their relationship has never required her to like him, only trust him. Which she has.

But everything really is different now. And maybe he is too.

“Yo-…” she starts, but her voice seems to break under heavy emotions, and he can’t stop himself from looking up at her.

She looks almost heartbroken, and it sends daggers through him.

“You want the baby to live?” she continues, and she sounds so incredulous.

As though she can’t imagine that he would actually want that. Which would mean that her heartbreak is rooted in hope rather than fear. That she wants to believe that he could love their child at least, if not her.

“Yes, but…” he tries, and sees her breath hitch when he doesn’t continue.

“But, what?” she prompts, and her voice is shaking now.

“But…” he tries again, knowing what he needs to say, but afraid of what she’ll think. “Fuck. Look, I’m not a good person, I think a part of you knows that. And even though I’d like to think that I could be a worthwhile dad, I really don’t think I can.”

Never before has he worried or even cared about being judged by others. The opinions of liars and betrayers and abusers have never mattered to him, and that’s what everyone around him has always looked like to his eyes. Nikita is an exception, but only because he’s chosen not to look too closely at her. He’s never observed her. Never tried to know her, because if he’d found her to be like the rest, that would’ve ruined his ability to look at her as someone desirable.

He knows now that she has lied for large portions of her life, although as far as he’s aware, only out of patriotism and necessity, which he can accept. But he still doesn’t know what else she is or has done. If she’s like the rest overall. And he isn’t sure that he wants to know. But more than that, what plagues him is the knowledge that he’s no better than anyone of them. Equally unworthy of love since he’s never once offered his to anyone.

“So, in other words, you want me to have the baby. Alone?” she counters, and she sounds upset now, so he thinks carefully before he answers.

“I just want you to have the option. To not be forced in any direction, by anyone or for any reason, but least of all by me, because I’m not… I can’t be trusted with something like this.”

“And what if you’re the only reason that I want to make that choice at all?” she ponders, still sounding upset, but also sad.

Her words truly stun him, though. He sits frozen for a while, just staring dumbly at her, before he finds his voice.

“But… I’m an asshole.”

“Maybe, but not to me. I might not know anything about you, but I know that you’ve never treated me like a piece of meat. I know that I’ve never had to fear that you’d be offensive for no reason or pick a fight because you’ve had a bad day. You’ve always been kind to me. Even now, when that means putting your life on the line. Why would I not want to share this with you? You’re the best guy I’ve ever known.”

If that’s true, then she must’ve known only the worst of mankind, which he doesn’t quite believe. But he also wonders if her current circumstances could be tainting her perspective of him, subconsciously putting him in the place of a knight in shining armor, when he’s really as far from that as anyone could be.

“If I hadn’t thrown you out that evening, is that what you would’ve told me?” he challenges, and her expression shifts, from sadness to retrospection.

“That’s impossible to answer since it would depend entirely on what you would’ve said. If all this hadn’t happened, would you even have let me talk to you again after that evening?”

Crap. He hangs his head again, because she’s right. He probably wouldn’t have given her the light of day. More likely, he would’ve avoided her at all costs, hoping to not have to deal with the baby at all. And if that was true then, then it still is now. Just hidden behind the fear of Niki dying for no fucking reason. Except…

“…that’s not right either…” he mumbles, finishing the thought out loud.

“What’s not right?” she asks, understandably confused since she hasn’t heard his internal reasoning.

He looks up at her once more, somehow feeling like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again. Christ, she really is beautiful.

“I’m terrified of losing you,” he confesses, and sees her features instantly soften. “Not because of any need to right my wrongs against you or because I just don’t wanna lose the closest thing I have to a friend. I’m terrified because I need you. Because the thought of having to bury yo-…”

Even finishing that sentence is too painful. The words are strangled in the depths of his throat while the unwanted image of a headstone and freshly closed grave flashes before his eyes. Disturbed by the sight, he jolts to his feet and begins pacing, alternating between crossing his arms and restlessly fiddling with his shirt, or scratching his neck or running a hand through his hair, all while rambling uncontrollably.

“I never let myself go there, because no one ever means it, it’s always just empty words, so why would I be any different? Me, the guy who’s actively avoided all attachments all my life, becoming a criminal and a thief and a god damned vigilante because I just can’t trust people. So, why didn’t I see it from the start? Why the fuck didn’t I see it?! I trusted you. From day one, I trusted you. How could I not see that it was because I wanted it to mean something? Because I wanted you to be the exception… the one that might say it and mean it. Even to me.”

He stops moving. He’s right at the foot of her bed. Nikita Morse. The woman he doesn’t want to live without. The woman he dares to care about, even though he doesn’t know her. The only person in the world… that he loves. Turning slowly, he meets her gaze, and there are tears running her cheeks. Just like there had been that night, when she’d fled the anger that she had never deserved, but which she’d shouldered so gracefully all the same.

“I will,” she whispers. “When this is over, I’ll say it… and if you believe me, you say it back. Deal?”

Stepping around the foot of the bed, he goes to her side and leans over to kiss her instead of making some bland verbal promise. He’s never just kissed her before. Only while having sex, only as a gesture of passion, never to express care or affection. This feels different. Like a spark moving from his lips into his blood, where it can course through him endlessly. It feels wonderful. Until he remembers that this might not be over for a very long time, and that it might very well end with their deaths.

“You hungry?” he asks, trying to distract himself and noticing that it’s getting close to lunchtime.

His voice is thick with emotions much deeper than anything he’s ever felt, but it’s strangely not as crippling as fear or as paralyzing as lost hope. Instead, it feels empowering. Suddenly the idea that an entire government is on their tails seems less like an insurmountable obstacle and more like a climbing challenge. How the fuck does that happen?

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’ll be constantly hungry for weeks to come yet,” she tries to joke to get the weight of the world off her chest, while wiping her tears away.

“Okay, I’ll go see what I can make for you,” he says, gently squeezing her lower arm before he leaves, hoping she’ll take it as a comforting gesture.

Returning to the kitchen, he finds Gillian in the process of finishing a chicken soup.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he offers when she looks up from stirring the pot.

“I know, but between you protecting us and keeping an eye on Nikita, and William doing his part researching the bad guys, I kinda ran out of ways to be useful.”

“Well, don’t worry, pretty soon you’re gonna be wishing you had less to do,” Pero cautions, and she stops stirring.

“What do you mean?”

She’s been around him long enough now to know that when he warns her about something, it’s generally life and death level serious.

“We can’t just sit here and wait for someone to find us. Eventually we’ll run out of food, but I suspect we’ll go crazy before that.”

“You’re leaving?” she asks, and she doesn’t sound happy about the prospect.

“We need allies. Eyes and ears outside of this place, people that can warn us if our enemy is approaching. And we can’t find any by sitting around out here,” he explains.

He can see that she realizes the truth of what he’s saying, but she seems worried about the prospect of not having him around. She takes the pot off the plate and turns off the stove before turning to face him, and by then there are tears in her eyes, which surprises him.

“You’re the only here that won’t crack under the threat of death. You can’t leave,” she pleads, but her words confuse him.

“Gillian… you’re every bit as tough as I am.”

“No,” she shakes her head firmly. “I’m not even close. I’ve been fraying at the seams ever since the hospital, I just never stopped long enough to let myself think about it. Yeah, I’m a trauma nurse and I’ve seen some bad shit in the few years I’ve been doing it, but putting myself in between patients and bullets… actually preparing to gas people to death… No. I’m not cut out for any of this.”

She’s about ready to curl into a ball and give up. He can see that in her eyes and the sudden tremors in her hands, and he doesn’t blame her one bit. Niki’s doing good, so technically there’s no need for her to stay, and he was never going to force her to, no matter what.

“Then take the truck and go back to town,” he repeats himself from the first night.

She had rejected the idea then, but he can see that it hits her differently now. That she wants to go. But she also knows herself. The tears have begun to fall, and she swipes at them with frustration as she starts rummaging through cupboards in search of a good bowl to serve the soup in. It isn’t pride or even duty that keeps her from taking him up on it. Just humanity. Just a stark unwillingness to leave them all and save herself, because that guilt would be worse than anything to her.

But the fear is still there regardless, eating away at her, leaving her nervous and angry, stealing her joy and positivity, forcing her mind into dark places that only serve to increase her anxiousness. He might not have ever wanted or sought friendship, but he knows what it looks like. And for the most part, it doesn’t seem to matter whether someone’s intentions are genuine or not, the gestures of comfort usually appear to be enough.

So, since he feels responsible for Gillian’s situation, he steps closer to her and stops her nearly frantic search, by pulling her into a hug. She’s not even shocked by it. Too desperate for the comfort it brings, she instantly abandons her efforts and lets him hold her while she allows herself to fall apart for a few moments.

He’s struck by how small she feels when she curls in on herself between his arms, trembling and sniveling. She’s such an impressive person. By his standards, at least. It seems contradictory that she should be so small when she carries such enormous things within her. But true to her character, she only allows herself a brief respite. Pulling away and resuming her task after no more than a minute.

He reaches into the correct cupboard and takes out a perfect sized bowl for a portion of soup, which he hands to her without a word. She’s looked through that cupboard in her search, but was too overwhelmed to absorb anything she saw, which is why she now feels foolish. He doesn’t tell her not to, because that won’t help. Instead, he turns to leave, giving her space to feel whatever she needs to.

“Thank you,” she says before he steps out of her view, and he stops and turns halfway to look at her.

“I owe you everything, Gillian. Don’t ever forget that I’m just a weapon. It’s you who are the hero of this story,” he says, and then turns away and heads upstairs.

The computer system takes up the entire desk, and huddled in between the screens, cables and fan-assisted operating systems and hard drives, is a deeply concentrating William. Pero has seen him work before, so the image isn’t unfamiliar to him, but the worried crease in the veteran’s forehead is something new. Which says something about how much of a mess they’re really in.

“Any updates?”

Unlike many other computer experts, Will’s time in the military has left him incapable of getting so immersed in the digital world that he loses touch with the reality around him, so it’s actually really hard to sneak up on him. He doesn’t flinch or react to Pero’s voice at all, because he’s already heard him coming up the stairs.

“Yeah, we’re definitely dealing with China. But not government. It looks more like some private radical with enough funds to finance a small war.”

“Great,” Tovar sighs and sinks into a reading chair. “That makes this so much easier.”

The sarcasm is partially lost in the fatigue, and he runs a hand over his face while he tries to think through how this information might change his course of action going forwards.

“At least it’s not another fucking country on our tails,” Garin points out, and he’s right, that would’ve been worse.

“True. But if it had been, we would’ve been able to work out the players, whereas with a private force, there’s no telling who or how many people stand between us and freedom.”

“Now you’re being offensive,” Will tuts. “I’ll have that information by the end of the day.”

“Seriously? These jackasses are dumb enough to leave a digital trail?”

“Not an obvious one, no. But they’re using a cleverly concealed chatroom, masquerading as a social media DM thread, to communicate, and once I break the encryption, we’ll know everything they’re doing. I should even be able to backtrace their locations and set up a real-time tracking system. It’s our homegrown jackasses that are proving to be a bigger issue.”

“How come?”

“Well… I suspect it’s the abundance of resources. Satellites and drone surveillance, probably an entire farm of hackers all focusing their efforts on us, not to mention thousands of boots on the ground to run down all leads and eliminate false trails.”

“Right,” Pero grumbles, already feeling defeated.

“Hey,” William calls his attention, looking up from the screens and meeting his eyes as he continues. “Don’t give up yet. We might not have an army, but that doesn’t mean we’re not dangerous. They’re already scared of us, and we can use that.”

“Yeah, I know. I just also know that this isn’t gonna end without bloodshed, one way or another.”

“Probably not. So, what’s your plan? Cause I know you’re cooking up something, your head’s far too big to not have turned and looked all this over a dozen times already.”

“More like a hundred,” Pero corrects. “But I keep coming back to one inescapable fact: we need better numbers. Allies.”

“Okay, so how are you gonna find some?”

“Doing what I always do. I’m gonna make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

Will doesn’t look particularly happy about that, but then, he’s been at the receiving end of that offer, and it didn’t work out so well for him.

“Don’t you mean threaten them?” he says quietly, and while there’s a hint of defiance in his eyes, he looks mostly scared. “Cause I can promise you, that’s how it feels.”

But Tovar isn’t offended or rattled by that statement. The veteran is probably correct, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’d gotten himself into the shit that had followed, after Pero’s threat.

“Yeah, that’s the point. If you hadn’t been a selfish bastard who cared more about the one percent of your money that I took, your fiancé would’ve been alive today,” he coldly replies, because he’s tired of Will’s endless attempts to make him feel guilty about their past. “And the really sad part about all this is that I already know I’m not gonna have any trouble finding skeletons I can use under the rocks that our intended assassins are sitting on, because that’s the fucking norm. But hey, why don’t I ask them nicely? Maybe they’ll agree not to kill us out of the goodness of their hearts.”

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

Part 6

Thank you for reading, and remember: I have no taglist anymore. Follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications for updates on my writing :)

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x original female character #pero tovar x ofc #modern!pero #modern!au #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories #pedrostories

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yuvon-writes-letters · 3 years

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[The first words of the letter are a bit chaotic and written in a yet unknown scripture]

Hello Yuvon, Jake, Rainer...I cannot really comprehend all of your names.

My name is Maximilian Collins, but just call me Max please. From what I was told that's what you already know me under.

I am Lig. Sorry. I remembered she told me that you just know her nickname. I am Liskas cousin.

I would really like and try say something, but I don't think I would get out anything with sense in the moment.

Long story short: The little fox is doing okay I guess. At least when I take in accountant what happened to her. I mean, she is hunted by a murderer? And he almost would have gotten to her...And only thanks to Jake she was safer again.

Damn it. Why didn't she tell me? Maybe I shouldn't have stolen

So yeah, we arrived five days ago in our first location and currently are in a small German town. (Do you even know we're originally born in Germany? That really helps us) Just away from home, you know? Though, she did not talk to me at all until today. She broke down in front of me when a letter struck Lis directly in her face..In front of me. In some kind of golden light.

She told me many things and if I hadn't seen the letters appear I would not have believed it.

Rainer, Yuvon, your last two letters appeared as one, so I guess that's because Liska should read both all of them? But it doesn't matter, I want to thank you. She really started smiling again. Even though..After the letter where you said that you have some responsibility about her situation she started rambling. Many feelings she kept hidden.

She didn't talk much after that and I don't know when she will answer again (weird enough is I am not angry at you, since I am too protective of her at other times when I am not stealing her work). But at least she talked a bit!

And..if you read this little fox, please skip. You already have enough things to embarass me. Just read again after the red part.

Oh and one more thing..she seemed upset after 'Jake' didn't answer her on her phone. Like, really upset.

Is there something more I should know? Like...Are they in a weird relationship or something?

Lis only told me about the man without a face thing and not really her relationships. And that they didn't have so much contact in the moment (even though I don't know why). Only the bastard wanted to get to her.

And I know that you are from a parallel universe with a sick entity? I don't think I know everything, just parts, but that's enough for me.

Just, why is she so upset? She wasn't when she talked about the others don't answer momentarily.

MAX

Ps. Uh, damn..She just started laughing as if she was crazy. And insulting someone 'You damn golden bastard'. Oh and I think I heard a 'It worked!!'

[The writing is really known again, even though a bit shaky in the beginning]

Oh shit, Max you idiot. Can't even check if your letter sent...

It's been a day since the events Max is talking about took place. So, six days since you last heard from me I believe? Maybe seven. I don't know.

I...I don't know what I believe to reach with writing again, but it makes me so damn happy. I am sorry I didn't write anyone of you, it was just so difficult to even get up and not sit in bed all day. But, I can't stay like this. And Goldie was completely right. [Lis' writing becomes like when she did the word association] Always. But that's why he is the safe one.

[It becomes normal again, the first words are smeared a bit]

I mean, Max told you that the letters hit me in my face, right?

Jake was in stasis again, as long as I did not want to contact him. That is the reason he did not write you more letters. I want to see more of his handwr

He isn't anymore though and I am supposed to tell you his thanks for getting me out of my...catatonic state.

So yeah, I don't know what to say anymore...I really hope you are doing better Yuvon and Jake and that you are also fine, Rainer.

And Jessica, if you still read this.

Liska🐾🔥

Max, (and Lis! Didn't see your part at first :) )

I'm glad Lis is okay. It's been awhile since she wrote, and I was getting really concerned about her, because of the whole, well, I'm sure you can guess.

I didn't know you were from Germany, but it does make sense, in hindsight. Probably it's more confusing that I'm from America, actually, given where Duskw

In her face? XD I don't know exactly how much Lis told you and it's not my place to tell you her secrets, but ffs Goldie XD

I'm glad Rai and I could get Lis to smile. I was hoping I could lighten our moods a bit, given all the recent... let's call it drama that went down. It's been stressful, lately, we all needed some levity.

I'm glad you're not angry at me, though you do have the right to be.

Lis and Jake, if you're reading, skip to the |||.

Jake is very important to Lis, and I mean VERY. Visa versa, too. Him not answering her calls is fairly concerning. Lis isn't the only one who's a target of Things, after all.

Something very, very bad happened recently. To avoid traumatizing you, I won't go into detail, but the upshot is that my version of Jake and I were very seriously hurt and someone tricked Lis into blaming herself for it, despite it not being her fault at all.

|||

Oh! Lis! Hi! :)

Don't worry about not writing, I know how that goes :/

...Lis, do you get copies of your own letters? I know we get copies of ours. If you do, you might want to look over the letter/section of letter you sent me again. Third paragraph, last two sentences. If something looks odd about it,

Actually, let me just send you it.

(Glued on with sap are the sentences Yuvon was talking about. Specifically, the lines "Always. But that's why he is the safe one.")

Yeah, Max told us XD I guess Goldie REALLY wanted you to read the letters. I'm getting flashbacks to Jake blackmailing Rai into telling us their issues.

Huh. That... both does and doesn't make sense. Why would you not wanting to talk to him put Jake in stasis again...? Goldie wouldn't do that, I think. Is your stasis tied to you, somehow? Or is that other entity messing with you?

...Was my stasis tied to me?

No. No, that doesn't really make sense, I think. Based on what I've seen, at least. I'll keep it in mind as a possibility, though.

I'm glad he's out of the stasis, at least. And you're welcome, Jake :) Lis matters to me too, so of course I would.

That's all I have to say for now, so

(There's a section of the letter that's been ripped out of the center, as if Yuvon poked her pen through the letter and then ripped out a line or two of writing. The paper around the tear is unnaturally white, just this side of eye-searing, and you can see the very edges of letters written in ink so dark it seems to suck in the light around it. There is absolutely no way to ever know what the entity said.)

Don't. You. Dare. Say that to Lis.

Try that again, and I don't care how powerful you are. I will find out what your other weaknesses are, and I will exploit them. With a little luck, I'll break your neck myself. Or poison you to death. If you know enough about my writing to plagiarize it, you know I'm not bluffing when it comes to the poison.

Would you prefer strychnine, entity, or something more symbolic? You do seem to love your symbolism.

That being said. Bye for now, Lis :)

—Yuvon

Hello, Lis and Max.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Max. I am glad that Lis is doing better.

...When did (blacked out) Yuvon say she thought she was responsible for Lis's state of mind?

I am afraid I do not have many more answers than what Yuvon offered, Max, at least for the moment. My apologies.

I am glad you are feeling better, Lis :)

I am also glad your Jake is no longer in stasis, though I second Yuvon's concerns and curiosity as to why. Also, please tell him that he is welcome.

I admit that I am not entirely sure what the entity said to provoke such a dramatic reaction from Yuvon, but I suspect I am better off not knowing. I am somewhat worried that her words may provoke a reaction, but she seems rather confident that the entity will not react. Given her recent... intuitions, about the entity, I am inclined to believe her.

I do worry about her, though. Neither of us know why she can suddenly know all these things, and even the entity does not seem to know, either. It is disturbing, to be frank.

Regardless. I have little more to say, for the moment. Do be safe, Lis.

Sincerely,

Jake

(The letter tucks itself into the paper clip with the others.)

#duskwood letter game #yuvon writes letters #duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #lis

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oumakokichi · 7 years

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I've seen your ranking, and I wonder why you like Juzo so much ? I can't help but think his redemption doesn't outweight his previous actions. He helped stopping the killing game but that was him fixing something he did and saving someone he cared about, which isn't selflessness. He assaulted people for reasons that were petty or unjustified, so it felt really forced when he saved Naegi. Also, he let Junko end the world because he didn't want Munakata to know he was gay ? Please enlighten me.

Personally, I like Juzo becausehe’s not supposed to be a selfless or a sweet or softhearted character. If Juzohad stopped the killing game for any of those kinds of reasons, or if dr3 hadsuddenly tried to play Juzo off as a character who was entirely selfless foreveryone’s sake, I’d have been incredibly disappointed. But as it is, Juzo’scharacter development was one of the few things dr3 managed to do right.

Juzo scores #3 on my personalcharacter ranking because he’s an incredibly well-written and flawed characterwho is given his own autonomy and has a compelling arc of development. He’s alsopretty much the embodiment of the Undying Loyalty trope, something I like in mycharacters—and even better is that dr3 managed to emphasize that that’s hisstrength and his weakness at the same time.

In a lot of ways, Juzo remindsme of a better-done Maki. Like Maki, Juzo is a bit of a throwback to some other“killing machine” characters, like Mukuro and Peko. While SHSL Boxer is a farcry away from SHSL Soldier, Swordswoman, or Assassin, it’s still a fact thatJuzo is thought of first and foremost as hired muscle, by Munakata, Tengan,Kizakura, and pretty much everyone else in the Future Foundation. He’s meant toact as an enforcer, act first and ask questions later—and he’s perfectly finewith that.

Juzo is no strategist or ideasman by any means, but he’s aware of that. His forte is punching problems untilthey go away, so that’s what he does, the same way that Maki’s first instinctis to eliminate a target so they’re out of her life completely.

But Maki’s characterdevelopment is ultimately hampered by having to center around Momota’scharacter, and all the frustratingly misogynistic “life lessons” he gives herabout how “women should take care of children, not use weapons,” “women shouldlook cute, not work as a hired assassin” etc. Juzo, on the other hand, doesn’thave that problem, because the sad fact of the matter is that male characterswho are cold and aloof and think of themselves as weapons will receive bettertreatment from the writers than female characters with the same flaws.

Just as Maki prioritizes Momotaover everything and everyone else in the group, Juzo does exactly the samething with Munakata. But again, unlike Maki, whose coldness and recklessnessalmost never gets called out by the narrative (not even when she tried to killeveryone else in Chapter 5, for which she received a slap on the wrist atmost), dr3 pretty much spends all its time calling Juzo out. And that’s exactlywhat I like. There’s hardly a character in Future Arc who didn’t allude to Juzo’sfeelings for Munakata or lampshade the fact that Juzo would throw everyone elseunder the bus in two seconds if Munakata asked him to. Characters like Kizakurawere smart enough to realize that Juzo will get angrier on behalf of Munakatathan he will on behalf of himself, even. And this is a good way to highlightthe fact that loyalty isn’t always a good character trait necessarily.

Juzo absolutely didn’tsacrifice himself for everyone else’s sake—he only did it for Munakata’s. IfMunakata hadn’t been involved in the killing game, I have no doubt that Juzowouldn’t have given two shits about pretty much anyone else involved, exceptmaybe Chisa or Seiko, who were in their same faction. But he wouldn’t have goneto the lengths he did to stop the game just for their sake. What really madehis sacrifice powerful and memorable is the fact that he was willing to stopthe game, willing to cut off an arm, all for the person he cared most about inthe entire world.

Juzo’s loyalty is tragicbecause it’s his primary character trait, both his strongest advantage and hisgreatest weakness. It’s tragic because he was loyal to someone who ultimatelynever felt the same way about him, who doubted him and suspected him and neveronce really had those same feelings towards him. His sacrifice to end thekilling game isn’t supposed to be taken as some selfless gesture for the group—it’sa gesture meant for Munakata only, and Munakata still arrives too late, unableto really understand or appreciate the lengths Juzo went for him.

I would hesitate to say Juzowas seeking redemption with his actions. Atonement, perhaps, but redemptionimplies receiving recognition and forgiveness from everyone he ever wronged.And there’s none of that with Juzo. Juzo’s hot temper, his excessive violence,and his pettiness are never excused by the narrative or played off as somecutesy character trait. If anything, the reason he saved Naegi is because he’sstill as angry and petty as ever.

He didn’t save Naegi for anygrand, overarching ideal. He didn’t do it because he wound up agreeing withNaegi’s idea of “hope,” or anything like that. No, in the end, Juzo saved Naegionly because he was angry at him—for having defeated Junko where Juzo keptquiet about her, for reminding him constantly of the ways in which he fuckedup, of his own role in the way the world is now.

By dr3, Naegi was essentiallyrevealed as some grand savior who stopped the Big Bad Enoshima Junko and herdespair with his platitudes about hope. For him to just give up and die supereasily from the same despair-brainwashing video that killed everyone else wasthe biggest anticlimax—it was anticlimactic and pathetic enough that it pissedJuzo off, and that’s why he savedNaegi.

This is also perhaps a bitoff-topic to the subject, but I’ve always been curious as to why people actedlike Juzo was more irredeemable for being violent and reckless and punchingpeople early on in dr3 than many characters who have actually committed murderor other atrocities. DR is a series about murder and death and killing—and yetJuzo was immediately deemed a more unforgivable, awful monster than characterswho have killed without any remorse whatsoever. I suspect it has something todo with the fact that many people were mostly angry about who Juzo was punching or kicking, rather than the fact that he wasviolent and reckless in general.

After all, without knowingalmost anything about Mitarai or his character, people were very up in arms about Juzo kicking himin episode 2 of Future Arc, because he seemed cute, innocent, and everyone waspegging him for an “innocent cinnamon roll.” People then said that this wasbecause Juzo got killed Bandai killed by violating his NG code—but it’s not asif Juzo did it intentionally knowing that Bandai couldn’t witness any violence.He was just as surprised as everyone else when Bandai died. But I stilldistinctly remember people bending over backwards to say that this automaticallymeant Juzo was the worst character in the franchise, despite the fact thatthere are many DR characters who have intentionally done much worse.

As for the final part of yourask, about Juzo “letting Junko end the world”… Haha, I guess this is somethingyou could probably only understand if you can relate with Juzo on a personallevel. If you honestly blame him more for Junko’s actions than Junko herself, Idon’t really know what to tell you. What Junko did to him was blackmail. It wasinsidious, horrible, and the absolute worst-case scenario for Juzo. It was “despair.”If you can’t understand the fear of being outed, especially to the person you careabout the most, then you’re probably very lucky, anon.

As someone who is gay andsomeone who has been outed to abusive family, I can say that it goes beyondjust normal fear. Gay people aren’t afraid of being outed to their friends andcrushes and family because “oh no, someone will know that I’m gay.” We’reafraid of being outed because there is always a chance that people we loved andtrusted will immediately turn on us when they know, will look at us and call us“monsters,” “evil,” “sinful”—all of which I actually did have thrown at me whenmy family found out.

Juzo wasn’t afraid of much, buthe was afraid of Munakata finding outand recoiling from him, disowning him as a friend, wanting nothing to do withhim anymore. Not knowing how Munakata felt was preferable because it meant henever had to face the “what-if” possibility of Munakata finding out andtreating him like he was “disgusting” for it. If that had happened, that wouldtruly have been “despair” for him.

He was blackmailed andpressured and manipulated into keeping quiet about Junko the same way thatJunko either manipulated or intimidated or brainwashed everyone into keepingquiet and doing what she said. It makes absolutely no sense, in my opinion, tohold Juzo more accountable for “letting Junko end the world” when Junko is theone who did it. And to be entirely honest, if Junko hadn’t been having so muchfun holding that threat over Juzo’s head and seeing his reactions, she would’vejust killed him. The only reason she let him live was to make him sufferfurther—but if he had seemed like he would’ve told Munakata regardless (andJunko could’ve predicted if he would’ve, I have no doubt), then she wouldn’thave let him leave those school grounds alive.

This has gotten pretty long,but I hope I’ve been able to summarize my thoughts pretty well. Juzo is mythird-favorite character in the franchise for many reasons. He’s well-written,his flaws and mistakes are never downplayed by the narrative or turned into anendearing character trait, and I can relate with him on a very personal level.I was overjoyed when he was confirmed gay, even moreso when it wasn’t played asa joke or retconned in future episodes. Dr3 didn’t contribute much to thefranchise overall, but Juzo was at least one really incredible character tocome out of it. Thanks for asking, anon!

#dangan ronpa #dangan ronpa 3 #dr3 #juzo sakakura #sakakura juzo #ndrv3 spoilers //#spoilers are there because i do compare and contrast with maki a bit #my meta #okay to reblog #anonymous

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