#i mean curiosity getting the better of us in terms of going through comments/reblogs

[sandpitturtlescove]

"i hate all fandoms!!!" and then they only post about hating forsaken and dandys world.... yeah sure buddy......... - 🍪

[justanotherstarlightmonger]

Helsinki Ch 9: The flowers he gave.

Helsinki syndrome is a term sometimes used incorrectly in place of Stockholm syndrome. It’s use in literature is often ironic and deliberate and literally means when a captive refuses to cooperate with their captor.

Summary: A war of wits does have some rules too. But if one party refuses to acknowledge the sacred rule of leaving family out of it, the other must retaliate stronger to quell any such advances for the future… Or at least that’s what Min Yoongi told himself when he abducted Kim Namjoon’s younger sister. That was before he realized that this elaborate game of chess didn’t have just two players and before he had promised Namjoon he’d keep her safe, But also before he realized that one month was enough to leave his whole life in chaos.

Genre: MAFIA AU, slight yandere themes, smut, a happy sprinkling of fluff/comfort, and a truckload of ANGST.

WARNINGS: None ⊙.☉

A/N: It's here! My pretty, precious, favorite chapter. Be nice to her y'all.

Pairing: Main pairing: Mafia!MIN YOONGI X READER

Others include: Collegeboyfriend!Hosoek x reader + Mafia!Taehyung x reader + Kidnapper!Seokjin x reader.

Word count: 2.6k words

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Taglist: @rosquilleta @parkdatjimin @gaeguuliii @bebejungkook @minniesvenus @themochiverse @darkafterhours13 @sugasbultornebae17 @silentkei @definetlythinkimanalien @zae007live

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“I asked her in passing once if there was some hobby she’d like to resume, but she just shrugged and said she didn’t have many hobbies in the first place.” Mrs. Fen stood in front of Yoongi, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed. They both looked a little agitated.

“Then are you sure she said she was bored?” Yoongi sounded a little annoyed.

“Positive.” Mrs. Fen nodded.

“God…” Yoongi ran a hand through his already distressed hair. “Ok, thank you for telling me. I’ll figure something out.”

Mrs. Fen smiled. “So, is there something you’d like to have for dinner?”

Yoongi considered it for a minute. “Let’s just order pizza yeah? Taehyungie would like that. Run it by Y/n first.” he hastily added, suddenly remembering that he had no idea what your food preferences were.

Mrs. Fen nodded and made to leave the room, but she stopped and turned back, “How long is Ms. Kim going to be staying here?”

Yoongi frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“She seems to be good for you.” Mrs. Fen smiled, bowing her head as she swiftly left, leaving Yoongi to think about what she had just said.

.

The next morning, as you made your way downstairs, hair still damp from your morning shower, you saw a singular baby blue hydrangea flower sitting on the ornamental table in the main entryway.

A piece of paper stuck out from under it, and it piqued your curiosity. You approached it, curious but still cautious. After all, this wasn’t something that was yours.

“Dear y/n,” the note read, from the top corner that peeked out.

Oh, was it for you? You frowned and lifted the flower, taking the note.

“Dear y/n, Mrs. Fen mentioned that you get bored here easily. I thought it’d be a good idea to play a little game then. Every morning, I’ll leave you a flower right where you found this one. And every evening I’ll ask you something important you learnt about it that day. You have full access to the internet on my computer in the study. Use this freedom wisely because one wrong move and it will easily be snatched away. Be good and I’ll be better to you.

I hope you understand the rules well,

Y.”

You reread the note. What was this new shitshow? But you had to admit, it excited you a little. Like a little spark of adventure in your otherwise mundane life in these four walls.

You liked flowers. Though you weren’t very good at identifying them, you held them in fondness, and often took walks to admire the new flowers in spring. It was definitely a coincidence, but it was a fun coincidence that the game Yoongi had decided to occupy you with was something you felt you would actually enjoy.

You sat down for breakfast with a small smile on your lips that morning, something that Yoongi was quick to observe, and something that (he’d never admit) made him much happier than it should.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn’t needed to do much research for hydrangeas, since you vividly remembered planting them in your own backyard. As you sat on the stool in the kitchen, thinking about what to tell Yoongi about it, as Mrs. Fen bustled about, humming a sweet tune, you couldn’t help but realize that the memories you were sifting through, didn’t hurt half as bad as you thought you would. You remembered that day fondly, rather than miserably. You reassured yourself that this muted reaction to thinking about your family was because earlier you hadn’t known if you would ever return to them. But now, you knew you would. No matter how Hellish this month would be, you’d go back to them.

You trusted Yoongi about that.

So when you awkwardly knocked on the door next to yours, and Yoongi opened up with a soft expression and wearing an oversized black tshirt rather than his usual tailored dress shirts, you found it easier to tell him, “Hydrangea flowers are probably the most common house shrubs. Um… I grew them in my backyard. My appa told me that they change color depending on the soil’s acidity. The blue one you left me, was probably grown in alkaline soil.”

Yoongi had listened quietly, mesmerized by the sweet sound of your voice, that for once didn’t hold any malice for him. He looked intently at your eyes that were turned down towards the rug, not looking at him.

He nodded, though you couldn’t see it.

“Would you like to come in?” he asked gently.

“No thank you.” you replied, without missing a beat, and turned around to leave, still not looking back at him.

Yoongi stood in his open door, till yours closed behind you. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, smiled slightly and decided he needed a drink.

.

A dainty little white flower sat on the table the next morning, with delicate overlapping petals and a densely packed center. It looked familiar to you, but you didn’t know its name. Maybe you’d have to use those computer privileges today. You picked it up, caressing the feather soft petals and sniffed. It didn’t have a strong scent, either. That made you curious.

Scabiosa, the pincushion flower, Google told you.

Hundreds of thousands of pictures of the flower in many different colors and hundreds of articles about it greeted you. And then you stumbled upon pinterest boards where it was used in many flower arrangements, and before realizing it, you spent hours, scrolling through the beautiful pictures and reading random tidbits here and there.

Downstairs in the living room, Yoongi who was keeping Taehyung company as he played some game on the playstation, was looking at what you were doing, since he had turned on screen mirroring for his computer on his phone. He was pleased at how you were actually taking interest in the task he had set you, but more than that, he was pleased that not once in the hour and a half that you spent on the computer, had you wandered anywhere else.

“African tribes use scabiosa to treat coughs, fever and skin problems.” You stood at the same spot as yesterday, still not looking at Yoongi as you stated the fact for today. He hummed to indicate he had heard.

“Would you like to come in?”

“No, thank you.”

And you were gone.

.

“Y/n! Good morning!” Taehyung greeted you in the hallway the next day.

“Oh… hi Good morning!” you smiled.

“Look!” he pointed to the gorgeous coral colored flower waiting for you.

“Isn’t that a peony?” you felt glad that you recognized this one.

“Yeah, it is. I like the color.” Taehyung said.

Nodding, you approached the majestic flower and picked it up. It really was beautiful, the sharp, coral color was very easy on the eyes and the delicacy of the petals felt offset to how vivid the color was. You really liked this one, and Yoongi, who had just made his way downstairs, could see as much from the sweet smile that graced your face.

.

That night, no one opened the bedroom door when you knocked on it. You shuffled your feet for a minute of two, waiting patiently. Then you knocked again. Still no answer. But you really wanted to talk to him. Because you had not one, but three interesting facts to tell Yoongi. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the way he’d silently listen to you with a kind expression and then nod, as if this was a quiz and you had got an answer right.

So, you made your way downstairs.

“Min?” you called out.

“Yeah?” you heard from somewhere deeper in the house. You followed the sound to one of the game rooms, where Yoongi sat at the bar, a glass of whiskey in front of him.

“Hey.” you greeted him.

“Hi, come sit.” he indicated to the stool next to you. He looked great, all things considered. He wore a checkered black button down shirt and crisp gray trousers, his dark hair, that was usually unstyled, was parted to the side, and had an effortlessly untidy, very attractive look to it.

You took the seat next to him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, I’m thinking you were looking for me to tell me something?”

“Yeah, it was about the flower you left for me…” you began unsure.

“Mhm?”

“So, it was a peony.”

He nodded, amused at your awkwardness.

“So, when I first took it to the kitchen, ahjumma told me that it was very valuable in chinese medicine, especially the root part. And she also told me that the peony plant lasts for so long, she said she’d seen 100 year old plants, still bearing flowers.”

Yoongi snuck a glance your way, and was struck dumb at the way your eyes shone as you looked at him. He was speechless momentarily, and was glad that he hadn’t seen this cute, animated look on you before, because he was sure he would’ve dragged you to bed then and there, especially because he’d been in his bedroom those previous times.

It took all his willpower to nod.

“Also…” you stopped abruptly, unsure whether all this information dumping was welcome. But Yoongi looked at you, genuinely curious. “Also, I read on the internet that it was named after one of the students of the Greek God of medicine. Zeus turned the student named Paeon, into a peony flower to save him from his teacher’s wrath.”

Yoongi smiled at that. “Do you enjoy greek mythology?”

“It intrigues me. But I’ve never done too much research on it.” you answered truthfully, still replaying that goddamned smile he had just flashed. It might have been the most endearing thing you’d ever seen.

Yoongi hummed, falling silent. He twirled the whiskey in his glass, wondering what to say next.

“Um, I guess I’ll go now.” you said, slipping off the stool.

“Sure.” he answered, still looking at the glass.

“Goodnight.” you mumbled.

“Goodnight y/n.” he said softly, to himself.

.

A bright blue flower greeted you the next morning. But there was also a note sticking out from under it. You picked up the flower, focusing more on the note.

Dear y/n,

I have important business to attend to. I’ll be gone for the rest of the week. Enjoy whatever joy my absence seems to bring you. Your flowers will find a way to you every morning still. I hope you find as much joy in them as you can given the circumstances. Remember the rules, and take care.

Y.

You didn’t know what to feel. Yoongi would be gone for a good four days. Shouldn’t you be happy about that. You should. Then why weren’t you? Why didn’t you spare another glance at the beautiful flower in your hands, with it’s leaflike petals. And why did the dining table feel terribly empty when you sat down for breakfast?

“Ms Kim!” Mrs. Fen shouted from inside the house.

You, who were sitting peacefully outside in the garden,enjoying the fading light of the evening and stroking the bright blue petals of your flower, that you had found out was called a siberian iris, perked up. “Yes?” you called back.

“You have a call!”

What?

But you were up in a flash, almost sprinting inside to where Mrs. Fen stood holding the handheld landline extension. “Who is it?” you asked, suddenly unsure. But the lady just smiled and handed you the phone.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hi.” the low, monotone voice you thought you wouldn’t be hearing for many days now, greeted you. And suddenly your heart thrummed faster and a soft blush settled on your cheeks,

“Hi, Min.” he could hear the smile in your voice, and that made a strange fluttering occur in his chest. Was he going to be sick?

“Did you do your homework?” he asked.

“I… well, I wasn’t expecting you to call.” you said, truthfully. But you had, infact researched the flower, given the fact that you found yourself bored with nothing to do in the afternoon and also because the flower itself was so pretty and unique, that you needed to know what it was.

“Is that a no?” Yoongi sounded almost playful.

“No. I did read a couple of things.”

“Is there anything interesting I should know then?” he prodded further.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, it was an iris flower. A blue one. Blue irises represent faith. Is there something I need to know about the symbolism?” you teased.

“No.” Yoongi said simply, and absolutely untruthfully. Infact, every flower he had given you, had had some symbolism to it, and it was kind of annoying that you hadn’t caught on earlier. But he was glad you finally had figured it out. “Is there anything else?”

Your heart dropped a little. You thought the conversation had been going quite well, especially because you didn’t have to look at his piercing eyes as you spoke. This was better somehow. But, apparently Yoongi didn't share the sentiment, if his uninterested tone was anything to go by.

“No,” you sounded slightly wounded, “like I said, I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

Yoongi caught the hurt undertone in your voice, but wasn’t able to say anything about it because you were already mumbling a “Goodnight, Min.” and the line cut.

.

The remainder of the week went quite the same way. You’d be greeted by a beautiful flower every morning, you’d have breakfast, then help Mrs. Fen clean up, then you’d spend some time joking around with Taehyung, who you were really starting to like again, after the brief period of distrust you had for him, after he had told Yoongi of your panic attack at the mall, and then you’d spend some time researching whatever flower you had for the day. After lunch, you’d stroll in the garden, your favorite part of the house until the sun began to wane in the sky, and then Yoongi would call.

It was strange, but you found yourself thinking about him alot during your garden strolls. There wasn’t much to think about, given you had interacted not more than a handful of times, and majority of those encounters had been petrifying. But, you still found your heart craving his company and your ears yearning to hear his calm voice, So when Mrs. Fen would call out for you, you always ran inside, before you caught your breath and greeted him all disinterested, as if this was the most dreaded part of your day, when in truth you waited the whole day for him to call.

“Taehyung’s flying out tonight to handle things here, since his break is over. I can fly back if you’d like me to?” Yoongi said after you had told him all about the flower he had left you that morning, which happened to be a tulip.

“I’d like that.” you answered, a little meekly.

Yoongi’s heart swelled. You wanted him to come back. Did that mean you missed him half as much as he had missed your annoying self these past four days? Yoongi never had anything to go back to. And so, he had often found himself at one of the many houses he owned whenever he was free for a few days. But he never felt attached to any one of them. He simply stayed there because they were shelters for him, impenetrable and daunting. Yet, somehow Taehyung’s Shanghai mansion had started feeling like a happy respite that he’d love to fly out to again.

All thanks to you.

“Gotcha.” he said.

“I gotta go, Taehyung wanted to play a round of league with me before he finished packing.” you excused yourself, suddenly feeling a little shy to continue talking to Yoongi, especially because the conversation had gone on much, much longer than it usually did.

“Sure. I’ll see you soon.” he conceded.

“Goodnight, Min.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

You didn’t sleep much that night.

[ceoofuwu]

𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒 ;; 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘪 𝘹 𝘧.𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟏.𝟔𝐤

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you may be Bakugo’s sister but, no one in U.A. had ever known about your existence, until you decided to pay a visit... little did you know that Bakugo wasn’t the only familiar person there...

𝐓.𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: cursing (there’s Bakugo here, you shouldn’t expect any less lmao)

«What?! Bakugo has a sister?!» Mina exclaimed as she entered the living room, hardly having heard the rest of the discussion.

She sat herself cheerfully next to Kirishima, who had actually made space for her, quite eager to keep up with the gossip.

Not that she didn’t have every reason to. Bakugo was mysterious, kept things simple and to himself, always maintaining a distant and goal-oriented attitude, which didn’t allow for much personal investment. Therefore, wasn’t it reasonable for any given “friend” of his to be bound by curiosity?

«Oh shut up! As if you should care, raccoon eyes» he retorted coldly, with a casual murderous glare following shortly.

However, with her happy-go-lucky mindset and the habit of ignorantly listening to the merciless insults of the young hero, the pinkette didn’t mind him at all.

«I should, because when I become a pro hero, she might use some rescuing from me!» she announced, pointing to her gleeful self.

«Thanks, but I believe I can manage on my own».

A smooth, velvet voice cut through the room as the tapping of graceful steps reverberated.  A pair of delicate legs strolling confidently, accompanying a perfectly-shaped body giving off waves of tremendous fortitude.

During the time Mina had spent in the Academy, she had never witnessed, not once Bakugo, the Bakugo, expressing his fear. Now, in the face of his sister, he was wearing a mask of exactly that feeling; terror.

«Is that… are you…» she attempted, feeling solely gaps of air leaving her mouth in stupefaction.

You ceased your pacing, offering everyone a friendly smile, escorted with a gentle wave of your hand.

«Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Y/n».

«…you can also call her dumbass» Bakugo mumbled between clenched teeth, intending to make an impression of dominance but also wishing to hide from the tyrant of a woman opposite of him.

«Shut your hole boom-boom idiot!»

An array of giggles filled the air, lighting up the ambiance and therefore breaking the ice, before you noticed a black-haired boy observing you in what seemed to be… dread?

«So she’s also taken after your terribly unhealthy anger issues, huh?» his eyes shifted to your smirking brother while he spoke in a modest and careful voice, as if he had selected his words with extreme cautiousness, one by one.

Another polite smile tugged at your lips, despite feeling quite displeased by your first impression. «I’m nothing like this walking temper tantrum», your gaze travelled around the room, inspecting it and gradually getting used to the surroundings, «…so you are his class… mates…»  your voice slowly faded away as you met with one specific, too familiar person in the room.

It couldn’t be… he couldn’t be here… or, could he? As far as you’re concerned you’re completely sane, which only means that you weren’t hallucinating. A lump had suddenly emerged in your throat and you’d swear your heart had skipped several beats upon realizing what was happening.

«Why the hell are you staring at dunce face?!» Bakugo yelled, fury steeping his features as the urge to protect you took over.

«Dunce… what?»

Denki slightly rolled his eyes, although he seemed to have gotten accustomed to his nickname, and sighed as he struggled to appear collected and unbothered.  «Me».

You scoffed and immediately covered your mouth with your hand, to prevent an inappropriate laughter from coming out. You didn’t really enjoy making fun of others, especially people like him who stood so close to you, but… this just sounded too fitting.

Denki blushed and immediately looked away, in his miserable attempt to be “discreet”.

«Do you guys know each other?» a familiar-looking redhead boy enquired, pointing between you and Denki. Your acquaintance had his mouth half-hanging open, as if he was about to say something, until he met with the frightful message in your look.

No.

You were quick to turn and face the redhead, with calmness written in your features and say: «Not at all, I mean… I hardly know any of you… um… Kirishima, isn’t it?»

The boy’s crimson eyes widened in surprise by the mention of his name.

Seems like I got it right.

«My brother tends to mention you a lot at home…» yet another wave of surprise washing over him, «…mostly how shitty your hair is…» you paused and pondered a little on your words, «…although I beg to differ» you beamed.

Kirishima’s face resembled a mixture of contentedness and dejection. You supposed and hoped that the former was on you.

Even so, for some odd reason, Bakugo was still keeping an eye on Denki. Not that the latter was acting with any prudence whatsoever, what with his nervously avoiding everyone’s eyes in the room.

«So… um… is there a bathroom… somewhere around here..?» you asked timidly, feeling the need to freshen yourself up and relieve some of the tension of this fairly messed up situation.

Soon after, thanks to your brother’s interference, you arrested yourself in that longed-for bathroom, taking a breather in silence and clearing your mind.

Before arriving at U.A. you weren’t really sure how to feel. On the one hand, you genuinely anticipated finally meeting all those amazing, gifted teens that had got themselves involved into so many scandalous episodes. On the other hand, you were doubting your social capabilities of interaction and trembled at the mere thought of stumbling over your words, or making a mess of something as simple a task as that, in general. In fact, an array of worst case scenarios was bombarding your head, even until the second you stepped your foot in that room.

However, discovering that Denki, your Denki, was actually one of the renowned class 1-A students?

That seemed nearly inconceivable to you.

Indeed, you had been dating with the guy for several months now, yet, without neither of you realizing, the hero studies topic had never been brought up; at least not in terms of specification.

So… Denki was a basically a hero… someone capable of coming to your rescue at any given moment… a hero…

«I hope you’re lost in your thoughts about me» an all too familiar voice was heard from the door.

Speak of the devil and the devil will come.

«Denki, what the hell?! How-- why did you come here?!» you called frantically, all the while taking alarming looks around to make sure your privacy was guaranteed.

«Don’t panic. We’re alone. Besides, my dorm is nearby~» he chimed, taking small steps closer to you simultaneously.

«So you used your dorm as an excuse to…?»

«Don’t play dumb, Y/n… you know better than anyone why I’m here…» your boyfriend whispered while slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his slim body.

You felt the temperature rising in your cheeks and your mind suddenly going blank, as though a fuzzy mist had been blurring everything. You had decided to come here merely to relax before proceeding to make new acquaintances. You couldn’t figure out whether this was happening due to Denki being one hell of a horny pervert or his being a complete and utter idiot. Come to think of it, both statements were suitable at the moment.

In the meantime, Denki was ranting about his plans, his dorm and many other stuff that you didn’t care too much to pay attention to.

«You are a dunce face» you giggled, trying not to focus too much on his golden gaze, which almost pierced holes through your own eyes.

«What did you say?» his face was beginning to distort into a suggestive expression, his lips gradually stretching into a devilish smile.

«You… are… a dunce face» you repeated teasingly and more confidently this time, despite feeling the embarrassment crawling up on you on the inside.

«A dunce face…» he hummed after you, before pushing you gently against a wall, with you hardly realizing, «I wonder where you picked that up from…» he teased, his fingertips sliding underneath your shirt grazing your back, sending minor waves of electricity down your spine with every brush whilst eliciting slight gasps.

Your lust-blown eyes remained locked the entire time, forming some kind of connection, as your breaths were little by little merging into one and the space between you was getting smaller by every second passing. You couldn’t hold your urgencies back anymore; your arms glided on his shoulders, eventually getting wrapped around his neck, as your head titled to the side allowing to the blonde to lean in and touch his lips on yours.  

The subtle electroshocks being produced on your back combined with the feeling of soft lips dancing with even softer ones, wasn’t aiding you at all to restrain that low, throaty moan that escaped from your vocals.

The kiss was slow and yet, steeped with passion, dripping with all these raw emotions that were generated every time you’d encounter one another. Denki had you melting, desperately hanging on to him, as if he was your life line. As he nibbled on your bottom lip, you broke apart, both panting, your lungs burning for air, prior to your foreheads touching intimately, trying to calm your rapidly beating hearts.

«You should lock that doo—«

«GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER, DUNCE FACE!»

Before you even had the time to process what had just happened, Denki had done a runner, sprinting as fast as he could as he was being chased down by an infuriated Bakugo. It’s a pity you were marooned like this but, oh well, he was the one who had left the door unclosed….

Hope you enjoyed! Leave a heart, comment, reblog! 💕

[chibi-pix]

Your Plance Portal AU pics inspired a small bit of fiction from me. Not sure what to do with it, so here you are. Apologies if it's a bit rough, first draft. Feel free to modify, share, whatever. I'm just anon. And sorry for the lack of formatting that will result in posting here. (part 1) "Why?" The fascinating specimen asked of me. His eyes darting over the form I had taken. Curiosity. Heightened heart rate. A curious combination of two of the three primal Fs. Fascinating as always.

Wow! Your story parts were amazing! While I admit, some sections were hard to read, conclude who was talking, but I did love it! Of course, you did call it a first/rough draft and stories start that way!

You had said I was free to modify and/or share. I took you up on that offer and applied your work to this. It was fun to work with and thank you for writing it and giving me an opportunity to work with it.

Hopefully it all shows; if not, I’ll reblog the answer with the full post/ficlet.

Pidge. It was a simple name she was referred to as. She. A humanized term to separate sexes and give identity. That was her understanding. It was a logical things to humans, but not to the likes of an android, program to see and comprehend numbers, not emotions and desires. So why? Why did she go by that word that could otherwise be called a pronoun?

“Why?” Her attention was brought to the latest of the subjects, a young man. Subject number 117-98-78. He insisted on being called Lance. Another human thing. But she supposed, to some extent, she could relate. She was given a name, too, along with her identity number. Her name, though, was shorter and easier to input by her creators when they wrote their notes.

Pidge examined Lance further, doing a scan of her own on the biological creature. His heart rate was increasing. An emotional response? Or perhaps it was the adrenaline humans felt when going through certain tasks that forces them to exert themselves physically and even emotionally. “You will need to reiterate your query for proper understanding so an appropriate answer can be provided.”

“Fine then. Why are you putting me through this?” Lance commanded. “Why do I need to go through these tests? What do you gain from all of this?!”

Pidge considered his questioned for a moment. To be honest, there was no complex reason for why she did it. It was her core imperative; it was her duty to test subjects and gather data. But would that response be enough for the latest subject? “You are a new variable.” she responded finally. “With the cloned and robotic test subjects being identical variables, testing and collecting data has grown stagnant and all data is outdated and irrelevant. You, however, come from outside the testing facility. You are a new variable and therefore present new data to study.”

“Dude! I could have died back there!” Lance snapped, his anger elevating. It was an illogical outburst from Pidge’s perspective, but, then again, humans were rather illogical. “Pit traps? Laser grids? And don’t get me started on that green goo you dare call sustenance. It’s freaking torture!”

“Incorrect.” Pidge responded, plain and simple. “This is testing. Testing is a necessary part of improving and moving forward. It is, after all, the core of my programming. To continue in my duty of gathering data. I test, therefore I am. I am, therefore...”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think Doctor and Professor Holt would have wanted testing to be this cruel.” Lance interrupted.

Pidge felt a stutter in her programming. Those names. Her creators. He knew their names. “Guessing their names correctly and knowing they created me specifically would be nearly impossible.” she commented. “Logic would point to you being aware of their classified research on redacted information. Despite this, mentioning them when in your current situation with the risks on your life tell me that you are not an intelligence operative of any enemy of my creators or their benefactors.” She performed another scan. “There are no indications in your biology to suggest any attempt of deceit. This is data that I did not anticipate. Explain. How do you know the names of my creators?”

“Huh? Well, everyone knows who the Holts are.” Lance stated, looking confused. “They changed everything. Botany, terraforming, space travel, they were the top minds of Altean Laboratories. Their work was groundbreaking.”

“Were. Changed. Was. These terms in how they are used are indication of past tense.” Pidge commented.

Lance was perplexed. “I mean… well… yeah, totally.” he said. “It was five centuries ago, give or take some months or single years.”

Pidge couldn’t explain the dip in her cor performance. Had she been human, she would have described it as a weight in her stomach. Had it seriously been that long? She had lost connection to her internal clock several thousand test subjects ago. “That is impossible.” she stated. “The facility around you operates due to the power obtained from the plasma reactor. It had only an estimated lifespan of three to four centuries; due to the renewal of energy sources, I have managed to re-calibrate that and extend it for another half century or so. To continue getting power to keep the facility functioning would be impossible. My ability to function would have ceased.”

Lance sighed. He then decided to bring up a holographic display. Pidge found she could not interface with the hologram; she decided she could endure collecting data visually. As she looked at the hologram, she saw the schematics of the facility. But not all was the same. There was a new structure that she could not identify.

Lance picked up on where Pidge was looking. “You see it, too, huh?” he asked. He pointed to an area on the hologram. “Right here. We had reason to believe that a piece of what we refer to as the trans-reality comet has found its way here. And by we, I mean my superior officers. I’m just the field guy who goes in and investigates things; the others are the science guys who understand this stuff better. Anyway, long story short, but this thing is apparently radiating energy and with a copious amount still stored in it. There’s a problem, though.”

Pidge couldn’t interface with the hologram, but she knew the subject could. She went in close, finding her humanoid form to be convenient for times like this. She gently took Lance’s hand and moved it, prompting him to touch certain parts and bring up more data on the hologram.

“It appears to be unstable.” Pidge commented.

“Extremely.”

“The plasma from the facility’s reactor appears to be the cause of of the instability. However, I do not have sufficient data to fully determine how accurate this is.” Pidge glanced over to Lance, realizing he was staring at her, his mouth hung open a bit. “Does me not having the full answer cause this human emotion of bewilderment?” she inquired. “It should not; results cannot be properly determined without sufficient amounts of data. I have not collected enough data on the subject of this comet and its interactions with the reactor.”

“No it’s just...” Lance looked at Pidge’s hand, seeing it still around his own. “Your hand. It’s so warm. I didn’t expect that.” Pidge pulled her hand away quickly. “What are you? How are you so warm?”

“I am not; this is simply a byproduct of the cooling systems aboard this particular interface unit.” Pidge responded. “This unit is only a feature provided to me. I am, after all, the facility computer.”

Lance looked closely. “So… why do you look like a girl?”

Pidge blinked. So even he acknowledged that he seemed like a girl, at least in appearance. She looked ahead and away from the subject. “This interface unit was called the Physical Interface Data Gateway Exchange. To make data input easier, they formed it into the acronym PIDGE.” she explained. “It was designed with the intention of making interactions with subjects feel less… impersonal. It is for the benefit of my creators and the facility, not of my own. I have insufficient amounts of data to determine why they have given me this form.” She didn’t speak about it, but what little data she had about that, she had image files showing a member of the Holt family with a similar appearance. Perhaps it was meant to immortalize that member? She lacked the data to determine that.

“Pidge, huh?” Lance asked. “So it’s a name?”

“It is what they called me due to it being easier on the creators and less time consuming for their already limited lives.” Pidge commented. “Now then, since I have answered your queries and indulged your curiosities, it would be preferable to continue the testing.”

Lance gave a smile, but it did not look calm. It looked almost forced. “Sorry, but… this is where the testing ends, Pidge. Pidge did not understand. She then felt something in her, as though the numbers she lived by were changing.

“I do not comprehend.” she commented. She felt off balance, as though she could not properly control the unit meant for interfacing. But she couldn’t disconnect, either; she couldn’t return fully to the computer system. “What did you do to my systems? How did…”

Lance gave a bit of a guilty smile. He then brought up a new image for the hologram. “I had some help but… your entire core program? It’s gone. No more testing. No more of this… cruel torture. You’re in this device now, disconnected from everything else. Like an old game disk; one wrong move, you’re gone. Completely.”

“Impressive.” Pidge commented. “I did not anticipate your device having the necessary storage capacity for my system. Perhaps the claim of five centuries passing is not as far-fetched as I originally determined.” Around them, the corridors and testing chambers grew dark. What Lance could only assume to be the emergency lights turned on, illuminating the area in a bright red. “It does not appear that you or your outside help have considered another variable.”

“Um… what variable?”

“The default settings booting back up upon my removal.”

“Ah quiznak.” Pidge could only assume that Lance’s choice of word meant something profound. “Okay… so what do we get? Some five hundred year old security system about to hunt me down?”

“That would be accurate to the data.” Pidge confirmed. “Which would not be good for your condition.”

“My condition?”

“Of being alive.”

“Oh.”

“However, I do possess the necessary data to thwart the old program. The variable now stands at you being the only one who can interface with my core due to the technology you transferred to it. It would then be in my best interest to keep your status as alive.”

“I mean, how hard can this be? I’ve dealt with you so far.” Lance prompted. He jumped when a sound caught his attention. There was movement further in the corridor. Blades typically seen in tests, meant to be turned off or dodged. Past it? There was another figure, though harder to see.

“In subject terms? Bad. Very bad.” Pidge commented. “I suggest listening to what I say and following my instructions without fail.” She looked to Lance. “My first instruction-”

“I’m gonna take a guess and say run!” Lance grabbed Pidge by the hand and ran off in the opposite direction, pulling her along; it was a good thing that despite her data being put into the device around his arm, her body, as one could call it, was still functional and able to move.

Again, thank you so much for this opportunity!

[impracticaldemon]

Bedtime Story

First of the three promised drabbles:  Hakuouki, Sanan and Chizuru

At 1360 words, it’s a little longer than I’d planned, but I hope you’ll enjoy it.  Introspective and a little sweet, rather than angsty. Thank you to those who liked and commented when I posted this earlier! For some reason I needed to use a new post to get it to allow me to use a “read more” line :/

Bedtime Story

When Yukimura Chizuru had first tried to help him cope with his damaged arm, Sanan had written her off as either a complete innocent, and uninteresting, or as a young woman attempting to improve her standing and safety within the Shinsengumi by being helpful—which was normal, and thus, still uninteresting.  It took a while for him to acknowledge that while she might be innocent, and she might be trying to make a place for herself, she wasn’t uninteresting.

For one thing, she was more intelligent than he’d realized, and her father had given her more education than girls ordinarily received.  She was curious—often too curious—about things that might get her into trouble, but it wasn’t an ignorant, thrill-seeking curiosity.  Rather, she wanted to make things better for the people around her, and had a deep desire to be useful.  She had determined that she needed to know more, in order to be more useful to the Shinsengumi, and her mind seemed reasonably competent at putting together the bits and pieces that she heard.  This made her a threat, technically, but… after all, her own father had started the Shinsengumi down this bloody path when he brought them the ochimizu. Chizuru’s curiosity was reasonable; her horror at what her father’s ‘medicine’ had wrought was genuine; and her concern for Sanan appeared to be heartfelt.

In any event, Sanan no longer turned her away when she sought out his presence, though he knew there were dangers in becoming closer.  It had begun to seem almost natural for them to talk, usually late at night, about Sanan’s research into the ochimizu, about the extent of Kodo-sensei’s experiments, and about both men’s desire to find something to slow—maybe one day even reverse—the terrible, seemingly inevitable, descent into madness.

Today—tonight, rather—Chizuru arrived with an air of suppressed excitement.  Sanan could sense it, almost taste it in the air around her.  It made her glow with energy, and for a long moment he struggled to restrain the beast—the fury—that demanded the blood of such a vividly alive young creature.

“I found it!” she declared happily, holding out a rectangular object wrapped carefully in cloth.

“Found what? Wait—do you mean one of the books I mentioned last week?” Sanan’s eyebrows shot up—he couldn’t seem to prevent his incredulity from showing.  “But that isn’t—shouldn’t be—how?”

Chizuru beamed with satisfaction as he reverently took the book from her, removed the cloth covering, and stared in wonder.  It was a rare treatise on the circulatory system, the known properties of blood, and modern (within the last twenty years) views on successful blood transfusions.  What made it so rare was that it was a foreign book, by an English doctor, that had been translated into Japanese.  Still baffled, although excited to be holding such a treasure, Sanan turned more fully away from his desk to study his visitor.

“Well, Yukimura-kun?  How did you find such a thing?”

“My friend Senhime—Osen-chan—knows lots of people.  The last time I went out, I happened to see her, and I asked if she might know somebody who might know where to first it.”

“Hmmm.  And how did you pay for it?”

Chizuru looked a little deflated.  “I didn’t, actually.  Osen-chan said to consider it a long-term loan.  I’m not sure if she owned it, or found it for me.”

Sanan considered the Oni Princess’ motive for “loaning” such a book to the Shinsengumi—or rather, to Chizuru.  He could think of possibilities, but regardless, he was uncomfortable with her meddling.  The Oni were a complication, although he had begun to wonder a great deal about their knowledge of the ochimizu.

“Sanan-san?”  Chizuru’s voice was uncertain, and he could tell she was a little anxious.

“Mm?”

“Could we—could we read some of the book together?  You see, I tried to read some of it earlier today, and it’s a little difficult for me.  I mean, I know I’m not a doctor, but it’s more the style of the writing, and some of the vocabulary…”

She looked so earnest and vulnerable as she made her request that Sanan had to repress a desire to pull her close in order to reassure her.  He’d been going to remind her that she probably shouldn’t spend so much time with him, but his resolve failed him—again—and instead he resettled himself on his cushion and indicated the place beside him.

“Very well, Yukimura-kun.  I can’t imagine why you would find such a text of any interest to you, but I am willing to read it with you—for a time, at least—since you went to the trouble of obtaining it.”

Her face brightened at his words, and the shy smile she gave him caused a stirring in his heart that was becoming all too familiar.  He tried to remind himself that any romantic—or other—feelings he might have were moot:  she might be two years older, now, but she was still only eighteen, and he was not only one of those who kept her captive, but he was a fury, and his future was only uncertain in the short term.  In the medium term, only madness and death awaited.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Chizuru had no qualms about being close to Sanan.  She settled herself happily beside him, and waited politely for him to open the book and set it where they could study it together.  Sanan was conscious of her warm body beside him, and the pleasure he felt—the peace he felt—that she was there.

“If you come closer, it will be easier.  The candle-light and lanterns don’t really provide the best light.”

“Yes, of course, Sanan-san.”  

Shyly, she drew even closer to his side, and it seemed the most thing in the world to put his arm around her shoulders—so that they could read better together.  She stiffened a little, but not out of fear or distaste.  Before he could wake himself from the spell of being too close to her to move, she reached down and carefully opened the book.

“Do you see here, Sanan-san?  This is the passage that I couldn’t follow.  Which is a poor reflection on me, I know, since it is only the second page!”

Sanan focused, and tried to stay and look as neutral as possible.  He glanced over the passage, and identified why the structure—and perhaps the vocabulary—was difficult for Chizuru.

“Let me explain, then.  But pay close attention, since I want to be able to read the book with you, not to you.”  He probably would read it to her, if she truly wanted it.  He kept his sigh to himself.

“Of course, Sanan-san!  I don’t want to let you down!  Do you wish to return to the first page?”

“Just briefly…  It won’t take me long.”  

Sanan reached out to turn back the page at the same time as Chizuru, and felt the young woman shiver, very slightly, as their fingers brushed.  One could read too many things into a shiver, good and bad.  Best not to try.

But as Sanan read the first page of the first chapter, and then went back two more pages to glance through the Foreword piece written by the translator, he felt Chizuru settle more closely into his side and shoulder. Sharp fury senses told him that she’d all but fallen asleep.  With a slight smile, he adjusted Chizuru against him more comfortably, and picked up the book.  

Clearing his throat, he began to read aloud from the first chapter:“Blood can be studied on many levels, and in many ways.  For example, one can study the circulatory system as a whole, or how blood interacts with key organs, or how best to analyse the composition of blood.  This text…”

With an inaudible murmur, Chizuru’s eyes slid fully closed, and her breathing grew deeper and more regular.  Sanan gently brushed the hair out of her face and sighed.  He should really stop there, and insist she return to her room.  …But maybe a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

[END]

I hope you find this and enjoy it, anon!  Thank you in advance to those who get the chance to read, like, comment (in notes or tags or whatever), and reblog.

~ Imp

[miguel-manbemel]

Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 23: Roman’s Nightmare

Here comes a new episode of this fanfic inspired on Sanders Sides by Thomas Sanders, Joan S. and the Foster Dawg Team. It will probably be the last of the year, but if everything goes as expected, it will not be the last post, Sanders Sides fiction wise, as once I’ve finished this episode, I’m starting working on another thing for Christmas. I hope I can get it on time.

Now, on with the present episode. Just a fair warning that you may know if you’ve seen the previous snippet I published a couple of weeks ago. Remus appears in this episode. Not only he appears, he’s gonna play a predominant part. And that means he’s gonna let go comments like the one featured in the snippet every once in a while. Also, as previous readers already know, this fic features a lot of romantic prinxiety (they’re married in this fic, of course it’s gonna feature prinxiety). And speaking about Roman, this episode is gonna feature flashbacks that portray a somehow unsympathetic version of Roman at times, in the context that Roman is not proud at all of these moments, featuring things that may be triggers to someone, like speaking cruelly towards Remus and Virgil, also his lack of self-worth value. Also, to ease possible confusion, the flashback are going to mention real moments of Sanders Sides as well as moments featured only in this fic.

Well that is it. If you want to read previous entries of this fic, you can find them right here. And thank you to everyone still reading this fic as well as giving likes or reblogging, it means the world to me. Merry Christmas and until next time.

SYNOPSIS: Thomas is exhausted after a long week of hard work in numerous projects, but Roman still asks him to turn him back into a Light Side. As feared by Logan, the exhaustion doesn’t let Thomas complete the process and Roman loses consciousness and can’t wake up. Now Roman must wander through a nightmare where he’ll have to face all his fears and insecurities, as well as all the moments he did wrong in his life, and he’ll have to come out victorious or else he’ll never wake up again.

WARNINGS: Prinxiety. Verbally abusive behavior by Roman towards Remus and Virgil, lack of self-worth issues. Remus and his intrusive thoughts. Implied sexual references at times.

EPISODE INDEX

[Thomas enters his apartment]

THOMAS: Well, with the last song recorded, at last, all the immediate projects are wrapped. Now, at last, I have a few free days ahead… to start shopping for Christmas like a maniac. [sighs] Oh, a dude’s work is never done…

[intro sequence]

THOMAS: What is up, everybody!? Well, even when I wasn’t quite sure about it, I did survive the last week of intense hard work. Now, it is time for a well earned period of relaxation…

[Roman pops up, looking at Thomas with a serious face, not saying a word]

THOMAS: Oh, hi, Roman, how are you doing?

ROMAN: [same serious face] Well, I’m fine… as fine as you can be when you’re a Dark Side, that is.

THOMAS: Yes, I’m sorry about that. But don’t worry, tomorrow is gonna be the big day.

ROMAN: [in shock] What? Tomorrow? You mean that I’ve got to wait for another day yet?

THOMAS: I’m sorry, Roman, I know you’re eager to turn back to normal, but this week has been a nightmare. I couldn’t find a single free second for you.

ROMAN: Well, you’ve said it yourself, you’re free now. So why don’t we start it right now?

THOMAS: Roman, please. Right now I’m exhausted. I need some time to rest before…

ROMAN: [angry] For you, that’s easy to say! You don’t have to go through what I’m going through! I can only see you guys for two hours a day, and the rest of the day I have to spend it all alone! You call your week a nightmare? At least you have the chance to work with your friends or people whose company you enjoy and who will pick you up when you feel down. My life is a nightmare right now. You say that you enjoy your alone time, but not even you could bear so many days like this of pure loneliness. Not being able to talk to anyone, or even see any friendly face that can give me love and support is killing me. I… I can’t bear it anymore. I… I need everything to be back like it was before, with you guys in my life, or I’ll go crazier than Remus! I beg of you, turn me back into a Light Side right now! Please!

[Virgil rises up]

VIRGIL: [hugging him] It’s okay, Roman, it’s okay… Calm down…

ROMAN: And the worst part is that I cannot even see you. I… I don’t even know if, after so much time away from you, you’ll still love me, or if you’re already forgetting me. I can’t take that thought out of my head. I try, but it returns, and returns, and returns… like one of Remus’ intrusive thoughts, and it literally doesn’t let me live. I…

[Virgil kisses Roman, interrupting his statement]

VIRGIL: Take these thoughts out of your head right now. Don’t you ever doubt that I still love you. I know that my experience is nothing compared to yours, since I had Thomas and the Sides to support me all the time, but I still needed you in my life. I’m still missing you each and every day. The two hours we spend together each day are the best hours of the day. You may be a Dark Side, but still you manage to bring light into my life in these two hours. And I can’t wait to have you back in my life permanently like before. If that’s not proof that my love for you is still intact, I don’t know what else could be.

[Roman kisses Virgil, then he hugs him again]

ROMAN: [faint sobbing] I love you so… so much. And I miss you so much.

REMUS: [suddenly appearing, with an over the top emotional face] This is so cute…

THOMAS: Remus? What are you doing here?

ROMAN: [putting himself together, cleaning his eyes] It’s okay, Thomas. Remus and I have fixed our relation and…

REMUS: [serious] Don’t think I didn’t hear you calling me crazy, Roman. Is that what you really think of me? I thought you liked me now! [threatening voice] You’ve betrayed me and you’re gonna suffer for it!

ROMAN: [a little scared] Remus, I’m sorry, I didn’t…

REMUS: [giggling] Nah, I was kidding. Thank you in fact. I love crazy!

THOMAS: [sighs] Of course you do…

REMUS: Speaking of crazy, I have noticed that loose thread clinging from your shirt Thomas, and it’s driving me mad.

THOMAS: Yes, I have noticed it too, Re…

REMUS: Pull it with all your might! Tear away that little son of a b… [bleep] !

THOMAS: But I could tear off the whole shirt in half if I did that!

REMUS: [over dramatic] That’s even better! Turn that old shirt into a vest right now! Set your belly button free, Thomas! It’s time to show your followers the fruits of all these months of training!

ROMAN: [facepalms] Remus, please… Okay, I’m sorry, Thomas…

THOMAS: It’s okay. I already know Remus. In the end he’s really harmless.

REMUS: [genuinely offended] You take that back right now!

THOMAS: [ignoring him] Getting back on topic… I’m sorry, Roman. I didn’t know you were going through so much.

ROMAN: It’s okay, Thomas. It’s just that it’s not easy to be so close, yet so far away from my beloved ones. I thought I could take it, but days went on, and on, and each day was harder than the previous one. Please, don’t mind me, Thomas. It was just a nervous breakdown. Of course I can wait for another day if you need it.

THOMAS: No, Roman, I’m not making you go through another day of loneliness. I’m gonna try to do it right now.

REMUS: Do what, exactly? Not that I care, it’s just curiosity.

VIRGIL: Thomas is going to turn Roman back into a Light Side using his Light Master powers. [Remus shows a brief face of concern but quickly masks it behind his usual face] But are you sure you can do it, Thomas? You said yourself you were exhausted.

THOMAS: Nothing that a good cup of coffee can’t fix, Virgil.

LOGAN: [rising up] I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Thomas. You’ve been working on your new album for 18 hours, 46 minutes and 38 seconds today, all of them consecutive, and last night you only slept for three hours.

THOMAS: I just wanted it to be as perfect as possible, Logan. We did it, but it took a lot of work and time, and…

LOGAN: I know, and I’m glad that you want to give your best in each project that you work on, but rest is also a significant part of the process that shouldn’t be belittled. However, that’s not the point. The point is, right now, you’re clearly sleep deprived and in this state, you may not be able to control your Light Master powers appropriately. You should go to bed and try tomorrow.

THOMAS: I’m sure it’s not that bad. I’ve been worse in terms of sleep deprivation. I’m fine…

REMUS: I love these scissors on your counter, so shiny, so sharp… You know what, Thomas? You should grab your brand new headphones, and these scissors, and make a pitch perfect piñata full of confetti! Let’s party!

THOMAS: [beat] Okay… almost fine. But I think I’m good enough to try. Roman is not okay, Logan. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep if I make him spend another whole day like that.

LOGAN: Okay, Thomas. If you think that your concern over Roman won’t let you sleep, then I guess we don’t have a choice, since tomorrow you would be in an ever worse state than today. We’ll do it now. But be careful, okay?

THOMAS: Okay, Logan.

ROMAN: Are you sure, Thomas? I’m telling you I can wait if you need it.

THOMAS: Yes, Roman, I’m sure. If you’re ready.

ROMAN: I’m ready when you are, Thomas. Thank you.

LOGAN: Then if you’re all ready…

PATTON: [rising up] Wait! If there’s no pop, you must stop! Don’t do this without me!

DECEIT: [rising up] I’m not missing this either.

HONESTY: [rising up] Me neither.

LOGAN: Okay, now that we’re all here, let’s go. I hope you tidied your room, Roman.

ROMAN: What? We’re going to my room? Won’t it be dangerous to you, guys?

LOGAN: We must do this in your room, Roman. The room must also be changed back from Dark to Light. All the changes that have occurred to you have been in your room or in Sandersia, which is an extension of your room. This final change is no exception. Don’t worry, Roman. If everything goes right, you won’t be a Dark Side enough time to corrupt us.

ROMAN: Okay, if you say so. I hope you know what you’re doing, Logan.

LOGAN: I always know what I’m doing. To do something you must know what you’re about to do and…

ROMAN: It was an expression, Logan. Okay, let’s go to my room then.

[everybody sinks down. Then they appear in Roman’s room]

LOGAN: Okay, here we are. First of all, Thomas. Summon your Light Master self.

THOMAS: Okay, Logan.

[Thomas closes his eyes and concentrates for a few seconds. After this short time, he opens his eyes again, and they’re of silver gray color]

ROMAN: Wow, that was fast!

THOMAS: Thank you, I’ve been practicing every free moment I had.

VIRGIL: You look so pail now, though. Are you sure you can do this?

THOMAS: [with a firm, but at the same time slightly weak voice] Yes, Virgil. Don’t worry about me…

[Virgil looks at Thomas with a face of concern]

LOGAN: Okay. Now you know what to do, right? Concentrate onto Roman and search for his Dark Energy. You have the knowledge inside to turn it into Light Energy. Don’t lose your concentration once you start. This is really important.

THOMAS: Okay. Roman, are you ready?

ROMAN: Yes, Thomas.

THOMAS: Then don’t move.

[Thomas concentrates and a black aura surrounds him. He projects that aura onto Roman, who starts floating in the air]

VIRGIL: Whoa…

[The aura starts changing color, until it turns some sort of gray. Then Thomas suddenly seems to lose balance, his face looks white like a ghost]

LOGAN: Thomas, are you okay?

ROMAN: I don’t feel… so… good…

VIRGIL: Roman? Are you okay?

[suddenly, the gray aura disappears, and Thomas falls to the floor, unconscious. At that moment, all of the Sides go unconscious too, still standing still. Roman, who was floating, falls to the floor. They all stay unconscious for a few seconds. Then Thomas starts waking up, and at the same time the Sides recover consciousness too]

PATTON: What… what’s happened?

LOGAN: [shaking his head] It seems Thomas lost consciousness for some reason, and as a result we also fainted.

VIRGIL: Roman, are you okay? [Roman doesn’t wake up, Virgil gets scared and goes to check on him] Roman!? What’s wrong with you?

THOMAS: [still dizzy, his eyes have turned back to brown and he’s recovered some color on his cheeks] What… what’s happened?

LOGAN: Your exhaustion has taken a toll over you, and you couldn’t bare it, as I feared. You collapsed in the middle of the process, and now Roman…

THOMAS: [noticing Roman on the ground] Oh, no! What have I done? Roman, are you all right?

REMUS: [also worried] What’s wrong with you, bro?

[Remus, Patton and Thomas approach Roman]

LOGAN: Guys, don’t panic. Step aside and let me see…

[Thomas and the Sides step back. Logan kneels over Roman and checks him]

LOGAN: He’s breathing normally. It looks as if he was asleep.

VIRGIL: But why doesn’t he wake up, Logan?

LOGAN: I’ll see what I can find out.

[Logan places his hand over Roman’s chest. He shakes for a few seconds, then takes his hand off]

LOGAN: Okay. It looks like he’s got stuck in a dream. A secondary effect due to the premature exit of the process.

VIRGIL: And how do we wake him up?

LOGAN: I’m afraid there’s not much we can do. Roman must wake up by his own means. For that, he must go through the dream, from start to finish. He’s gonna face some of his deepest fears and his deepest feelings of guilt. It is a way for him to complete the part of the process that was halted. Only when the dream is over we’ll be able to wake him up. But who knows how long it will take him.

THOMAS: Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry, Virgil…

VIRGIL: It’s okay. You didn’t have any ill will. This was an accident. But are you sure you’re okay now?

THOMAS: I’m okay now, physically at least… But I’m so worried. I wish we could see how he’s doing in that dream.

REMUS: I think I can help with that.

[Remus invokes an orb]

THOMAS: That’s like the orb Roman invoked so that we could see what he was doing when you were after the Dark Master.

REMUS: Of course it is. Have you forgotten I’m Creativity too? Roman and I share some abilities and we’re still connected in a way. With this orb, we can take a look inside his dream and see how he’s doing.

THOMAS: Well done, Remus. I never thought there’d be a time when I could say that… Okay, let’s watch, then…

[the orb shows images of Roman. He’s alone in a black infinity]

ROMAN: Where am I? How did I get here? Am I in the Dark Realm? [fear] Is this what my future is going to be? All alone in the Dark Realm as a Dark Side? Thomas! Virgil! Guys, where are you? Somebody, please! I… I don’t wanna be alone.

[a tear falls down Virgil’s cheek]

PATTON: It’s okay, Virgil. It’s just a dream. When he wakes up, he’ll be okay.

VIRGIL: I know, dad, but… It’s just that… dreams always come for a reason, for something that affects us, whether positively or negatively… and Roman seems to have been so distressed, and so alone, for so long. If only I could have been there with him… I wish I could turn back into a Dark Side to stay by his side.

[Roman starts walking. Soon he finds a light]

ROMAN: What’s that?

[Roman starts running to the light. When he crosses the light, he finds himself in his room, but it’s much simpler than Roman’s actual room. It is full of drawings, hand-written notebooks, cut-outs, and other creative stuff for children]

ROMAN: It’s my room… but it’s just like I had it when I was little. Right when I…

[A child version of Roman rises up in the room, in front of adult Roman. He’s dressed with a navy blue uniform and a brown sash, his eyes are soaring red and streams of tears fall down his cheeks. He doesn’t seem to notice Roman’s presence]

ROMAN: That’s… me? No, that’s my old me, before I split. It’s when I started becoming a teen and having these new creative thoughts that unsettled Thomas so much… What is going on? Why am I seeing this?

CHILD ROMAN: It’s… it’s the first time I felt rejected by Thomas… I felt his distress and hatred against me… even before I could show up to him. He really hated everything I was creating for him… And it’s because of this… [grabs his brown sash] Thank goodness I didn’t end up showing up in front him, he would have hated me even more looking like this… just as I hate myself right now. Why did I have to change? Why is this happening to me? I don’t want this! And I don’t want Thomas to hate me! We used to be best friends. My purpose in life is to please him with my creations. If I can’t do that, then what’s the f… [bleep] point? Wow, and now I’m even using bad language? I never used these kind of words before. What is going on!?

ROMAN: I was so lost… so in the dark… I was a child entering adolescence, not understanding anything that was happening to me… Well, Thomas was, but as a part of him, especially being his romantic Side, I felt everything he felt as my own. If I had known what I know now… If Thomas had known back then… everything would have been so much easier… But back then, he didn’t even have his conversations with us all together yet. We, the Sides, barely knew each other. If only Patton had been there to tell me that this wasn’t inherently wrong. If only Logan had told me that this train of thought was only the result of a rush of chemicals and hormones inside of Thomas… Guys, I’ve always needed you so much in my life. I wish you were here right now.

VIRGIL: [grabbing the orb, shaking it and yelling at it] We are here, Roman! Please, wake up!

REMUS: [taking the orb from Virgil’s hands] Be careful, emo! You’re gonna break it! Do you know how much it takes to create one of these? I couldn’t create another one until tomorrow if you crack it!

DECEIT: Roman created two of these in a matter of hours.

REMUS: Well, I’m not Roman, okay? As far as nifty creativity comes, I got the lion’s share, but when it comes to brute summoning strength, I’m afraid I’m at the shallow end of the gene pool.

HONESTY: There was no need to misquote “The Lion King”…

DECEIT: …and this makes me feel concerned about Roman’s security bearing in mind who he’s quoting…

REMUS: Let’s just keep watching, okay?

CHILD ROMAN: If Thomas doesn’t want this part of me, then I don’t want it either. Whatever you are… [closes his eyes and puts a face of struggle] get away from me!

[As child Roman starts struggling, his whole body starts glowing in brown. Then the glow covers his whole body. Soon the brown starts turning into a turmoil of red and green, until the green part concentrates in the center and the rest becomes red. After a few seconds, the green light is expelled from the red light. After that, the red light disappears, appearing child Roman as he usually is, with his white suit and red sash. He looks at the green light, confused. After some time, the green light turns into a child with a black suit and a green sash. He obviously doesn’t have a mustache yet, but he does have the white lock of hair in the bangs. He looks around, confused. Then he notices little Roman]

CHILD REMUS: [happy] Oh, brother! There you are!

CHILD ROMAN: [in shock] What did you say? You mean I’m your… [doesn’t say the word]

CHILD REMUS: Yes, I’m your brother, Roman. My name is Remus, and I’m so happy to be with you right now! We’re going to have so much fun together! Because that’s why you put me out of you, so that you could get to know me and we could get to speak and be together, right? What else would make you do that?

CHILD ROMAN: [nervous] Yeah… what else…?

CHILD REMUS: So, what are we going to do first? I know! Let’s go to the Dream Factory! I’ve got a couple of dreams I want to show you to give to Thomas. You’ll see how fun!

[Remus sinks down]

CHILD ROMAN: [also sinking down] Wait, Remus, no! Don’t touch my Dream Factory!

ROMAN: He started wreaking havoc right after being born… I remember he created the most horrid creatures in the Dream Factory and wanted to set them on the loose in the Mind Palace… Thank goodness I could control him and prevent him to do that… And yet, there was this other part of him. Yes, he was a dangerous lunatic… but he loved me on first sight. He got so happy when he first saw me, and his first words were to call me brother.

REMUS: Of course I loved you. I am what I am. Our methods may be drastically different, and I recognize I love to pester you because you deserve it after all you made me go through, but at the end of the day, you’re still my brother and we share the same blood… Well, the same aspect. I’m literally part of you. How could I not love you?

ROMAN: If only I had tried to be that big brother he really needed, instead of… Whoa!

[suddenly the room disappears and Roman falls into a black infinity, until he crashes on the ground]

ROMAN: Ouch! That hurts! What gives…? What is that?

[Roman notices a light going through a half open door. He opens it and gets out. Now he is on a boat, in front of the Island of Forbidden Creativity. Little Roman and little Remus are about to get off to the beach]

CHILD REMUS: [happily excited] This boat trip was such a great idea, Roman! Did you discover this island yourself? I love it! Here we’re gonna be able to make castles, warriors, princesses, [with a gruesome voice] inquisitors, murderers, executors, weapons, guillotines! All with the sand and ashes from this island! You’re a genius, Roman, I love you!

CHILD ROMAN: Remus…

CHILD REMUS: What are we going to play first, Roman? Do you want me to choose or do you want to choose first?

CHILD ROMAN: [yelling, angry] Remus!

[Remus looks at Roman a little startled]

CHILD ROMAN: I’m not playing anything with you. You’re gonna stay here in this island, as your new home.

CHILD REMUS: [scared] What? But why? I thought you loved me! What did I ever do to you?

CHILD ROMAN: [angry] What did you do to me? Do I have to tell everything you did? You put the Dream Factory in danger with your stupid games! You unsettle Thomas with your naughty intrusive thoughts, and thank God he hasn’t seen you yet! You damage and destroy all the creations I try to conceive, no matter how many times I told you not to mess up with my works! Do I need to continue?

CHILD REMUS: But I’m Creativity too, Roman! Thomas needs me too!

CHILD ROMAN: Ha! I’m not so sure he does! No one needs you! You’re just a piece of garbage that is of no use for anyone! Who would ever want to have you nearby, anyway!?

CHILD REMUS: [fighting tears] I… I thought you did. You are my brother, Ro…

CHILD ROMAN: Don’t you dare call me like that again! I’m not your… what you said! Now I’m leaving. And stay in the island!

CHILD REMUS: [distressed, now crying] Roman, please! Don’t leave me here all alone like this! I don’t even have a house where to live, and you know I’m not strong enough to invoke big things!

[little Roman invokes a medallion and gives it to Remus]

CHILD ROMAN: Here, take this. With this medallion that has a little bit of my energy, you’ll be able to invoke a house and a bed. You better use it for that, cause this sea is deep and full of dangers. I assure you you don’t want to get lost on it while trying to follow me. Now, farewell.

CHILD REMUS: Roman! If you leave me all alone like this, I’m gonna go crazy! What will become of me?

CHILD ROMAN: [jumping on board, not looking behind, with a cold voice] Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a dang.

[the boat sails away, while Remus desperately yells at Roman begging him to come back until the boat gets lost in the horizon. Roman, horrified, is in the beach, next to little Remus who looks at the horizon, desperately crying like the child he really is]

ROMAN: I… I didn’t realize how cruel I was. What a horrible treatment I gave him… Yes, I was fed up with Remus and I genuinely thought I was protecting Thomas by doing that, but… this was unnecessary and unjustifiable. No wonder how he reacted when he returned to the shore, or why he did what he did… I’m so sorry, Remus. There’s nothing I can do to remedy this, but I truly wish I could…

[Remus is also with tears in his eyes watching the orb]

REMUS: Yes. It was unnecessary. You were really cruel and cold. I guess in the split these traits stayed with you, in part at least. And the worst is I couldn’t understand why you did it. Yes, you told me, but you never tried to make me understand why what I was doing was so bad. I had barely just been born. If you had taken the time to teach me, I could have learned, and maybe Thomas would have benefited from that. Instead, you just dumped me out and pretended in front of Thomas and your friends that I didn’t even exist. Now it’s too late to remedy that, I guess. Now I can’t change, and I don’t want to change anyway. Like I said, I am what I am, and you made me this way. [cleans his tears away, pulls out a handkerchief and blows his nose loudly and comically, returning to his usual smiley attitude] But you know what? I don’t care, anyway. I’m no longer affected by that kind of shenanigans, at all.

[Deceit looks at Remus with a sad face]

REMUS: What are you looking at, slimy boi?

DECEIT: It’s nothing. It’s just that… you remind me so much of myself not so long ago…

[Remus scoffs at Deceit with a bit of nervousness. Deceit just smirks at him with the same sad glance]

REMUS: Okay, let’s focus on the orb, shall we?

[The island and everything around Roman disappears and turns black]

ROMAN: I hope this time I don’t fall down somewhere… Why is this all happening to me, anyway?

[after a few moments, Roman appears in the regular living room. But instead of in his usual position, he’s watching from the couch. Thomas is having a conversation with the Sides, who are wearing their old outfits]

ROMAN: Ooff… I remember this. This was from long ago, before Virgil clocked out.

[the Sides seem to end their conversation and start sinking out, everyone except Roman and Virgil, who stay there. Thomas just goes to the kitchen, no longer aware of their presence, like in the series’ end cards]

ORB VIRGIL: Roman, will you cut it out already?

ORB ROMAN: What do you mean, Brendon Urine?

ORB VIRGIL: That’s what I mean, precisely! Will you stop giving me these nicknames already? I don’t like them!

ORB ROMAN: Well, there are lots of things I don’t like about you, and I have to put up with them.

ORB VIRGIL: Oh, really? Can you name a few of these things you don’t like?

ORB ROMAN: Anxiety, stop it. I’m not in the mood right now for this conversation. Not after you, once again, pushed Thomas away from that great project that could have changed his life.

ORB VIRGIL: Well, I am in the mood. Because I need to know. All I said today was in Thomas’ benefit, because the possibilities of that project to be successful were below reasonable, and you know it. But you just won’t give in just for the sake of being against me. Why do you hate me so much? I have managed to come to terms with Patton, and even with Logan in order of seeking what’s best for Thomas. But you’re just ruthless about me. What did I ever do to you so you despise me like this? I want to know so that I can fix it if I can, at least to have a healthy communication with you.

ORB ROMAN: [angry yelling] There’s nothing you can fix! You know why? Because the problem is you, as a whole! You are a complete nuisance that only hinders Thomas and doesn’t let him follow his dreams and passions! And there’s nothing you can do to change it because that is who you are! You just fill Thomas with fears and suffering and I hate you for that! Heck, you don’t even realize how much damage you do to Thomas! In his benefit? Ha! Yes, I hate you, Anxiety and I wish you just left to your room and never came back! You’d make this prince’s biggest dream a reality. But some wishes can’t come true, unfortunately!

[Virgil looks at Roman with a mixed face of anger and hurt]

ORB VIRGIL: Well, at least you’ve said the truth for once in your life, Princey. It’s good to know that there’s nothing I can do to make you like me. It will save me the effort.

[Virgil sinks down]

ORB ROMAN: Ugh… that emo nuisance always manages to drive me mad. Just like…

[he doesn’t finish his statement and just sinks down. Roman gets up from the couch and watches Thomas cooking some noodles on the stove]

ROMAN: …just like Remus, that’s what I was going to say. Gosh, I never apologized to Virgil for that. He clocked out just after that, and I believe it was all my fault. I spoke out of anger at what I thought was another example of Virgil messing around with my plans for Thomas. But he was right, it was too delusional, and I put all the blame on him when Logan, and even Patton, were also on board with him. I was just a stubborn idiot, as usual, a bratty baby, like Logan once called me. I really hope Virgil doesn’t hold it against me. He has so many reasons to hate me… and yet he chose to love me, even though I don’t deserve it.

VIRGIL: Yes, you do, Roman. It’s true that, at that moment, you made me feel like the most miserable being on Earth, but I also remember how you made me feel like the most valued being on Earth just a few hours later, when you said those words of apology to me, “You make us better”. That moment when you spoke from the heart instead of from your fears, made me feel so… so… fulfilled. And then, the following months, when you tried so hard to make amends, when you tried to avoid hurting my feelings again… I think it was then when I slowly started falling in love with you. Of course I forgive you for that tantrum. When we’re angry and confused we always say words we don’t really feel, and I’m not holding it against you. When you wake up, I’ll make sure to tell you that to give you peace of heart, at least in regards to that.

ROMAN: [heartwarming smile] I love you, Virgil, and as God is my witness, I swear I’ll never make you feel unwanted ever again.

VIRGIL: [confused] Do… do you think he heard me, guys?

PATTON: Of course he’s heard you, son. Maybe not with his ears, but love is a mysterious force and it has its ways of reaching out to someone. In a way, he’s heard everything you’ve said, I’m sure.

VIRGIL: I hope you’re right, dad.

[Suddenly Roman loses balance and falls sitting down. Before he has time to notice, he’s in the court room from “Selfishness v. Selflessness”, just when Deceit is delivering his statement to Roman]

ORB DECEIT: I know you’re lying, Roman. Like I said, everything has a purpose, and you’re denying yours. You want that callback so bad and it will crush you if we miss it.

ROMAN: Not this… not again. Is this…? Am I dying and that’s why I’m revisiting all these moments in my life? Why am I going through this?

[soon, Roman is again sitting in the couch, right after Deceit has left]

ORB THOMAS: I wanna… thank you, for helping to set me straight despite the cost. I know it wasn’t easy for you.

ORB ROMAN: [sad face] It wasn’t… [smiles] but you’re welcome.

[then old Roman sinks down and Roman follows him to his room]

ROMAN: This is more recent. I remember vividly how I…

[old Roman sits on his board and starts crying]

ORB ROMAN: What’s the point? Seriously, what’s the point of all of this? No matter what, I’m going nowhere, for one reason or another. When will my work be recognized by someone other than Thomas? I’m afraid that there comes a time when Thomas is in his bed, reminisces of his past, and realizes that he hasn’t achieved anything, and it will be my fault. I’m a failure. I want to do better, but I don’t know how! [sobs] I don’t know how…

[Patton rises up]

ORB PATTON: Don’t talk like that, kiddo! You’re not a failure at all. The wedding happening on the same day as the callback is not your fault!

ORB ROMAN: [startled, cleaning quickly his tears] Ahem… Patton, how long have you been there? It’s okay, never mind. I know that it’s not my fault, but it’s just that… I keep working and working everyday harder than the previous one. And I feel that my work is going nowhere. Today it’s for the wedding. Tomorrow it will be for Thomas getting choked on an audition, the next day for a technical failure in a hard drive that destroys all the files containing my works… It’s like I’m the one getting all the hinders in this and I’m doing this for nothing. I can’t go on like this, Patton. It’s frustrating.

ORB PATTON: What do you mean it’s going nowhere? Just take a look at Thomas. Your art and your creations make Thomas happy and fulfilled. Even if something gets in the way for him to make that art accessible for a bigger audience, that doesn’t make that art bad or useless. It has made Thomas happy and you should take that into account. Thomas is the most important member of your audience and, let me say it, the most demanding about what is and is not good art. If you can please Thomas, you can please anyone you set your eyes on. And eventually, you will, kiddo. I’m sure of that. Just keep working like you do and sooner or later, you’ll get your reward. As long as you don’t give up, it’s only a matter of time.

ORB ROMAN: I guess… but still…

[Patton approaches Roman and hugs him]

ORB PATTON: But still… nothing. Just take your time to relax and you’ll see things with a clearer perspective. And you’ll be back to action before you notice, stronger than ever, like the most wonderful prince in the world that you are.

ORB ROMAN: Okay, Patton… thank you so much for always being there to support us. I love you.

ORB PATTON: I love you too, kiddo. And I’ll always be proud of you, if that makes you feel better about your art.

ORB ROMAN: Of course it does, thank you so much, Dad.

ORB PATTON: Don’t mention it, kiddo.

ROMAN: At last one good moment… Patton has always been there, ready to give us all of his support when we felt down, taking his paternal figure duties very seriously in the middle of his silliness. I’m so happy to have him as a father-in-law now.

PATTON: And I’m very happy to have you as my son-in-law, Roman.

ROMAN: I feel dizzy…

[the room starts spinning around Roman, then it changes to the living room]

ROMAN: For Idina Menzel’s sake, couldn’t all this visions take place in the same room?

[the Sides are as puppets, and Logan has just thrown the paper ball to Roman’s eye]

ROMAN: …or at least happen chronologically to lessen this royal figure’s confusion? We are not amused.

[After this moment, Roman appears again in his room. The old Roman is there, looking at the state of his eye in a mirror when Logan appears in robot puppet form]

ORB ROMAN: Oh, Logan, hi.

ORB LOGAN: Hi, Roman… Oh, I see you are checking the state of your eyeball. I hope the impact of my improvised ammunition didn’t cause you any harm to your crystalline lens.

ORB ROMAN: Oh, don’t worry, I’m not gonna need these lens you mentioned or regular glasses, my eyes are fine. A little itchy, but fine.

ORB LOGAN: [beat] …glad to hear that. Um, I’m coming here because I kinda need your help.

ORB ROMAN: What is it?

ORB LOGAN: I’m stuck in robot mode. How do I get back to my normal self?

ORB ROMAN: Oh, I can help you with that.

[Roman snaps his fingers and Logan turns back into human form]

ORB LOGAN: Oh, that’s much better. Thank you. I was wondering how I was going to turn pages while reading my books with those clamps instead of fingers…

ORB ROMAN: You’re welcome. Logan, now that you’re here, I wanted to apologize again for calling you stupid.

ORB LOGAN: It’s okay. I, on my part, shouldn’t have overreacted like that. I don’t know where that came from. I’m sorry for that.

ORB ROMAN: Oh, don’t worry, Logan. It’s water under the bridge.

ORB LOGAN: [confused] N… No, it’s not. It was a paper ball, and there was no bridge to throw it under, unless you mean your nose bridge. Is that what you meant?

ORB ROMAN: It… It’s an expression, Logan. Write it down in your vocab cards. It means that it’s forgotten.

ORB LOGAN: Oh, thank you, Roman. You must think that I’m stupid for not knowing these kinds of idioms…

ORB ROMAN: Of course I don’t, Logan! You’re not stupid, what are you talking about!? If there’s someone stupid in this group, it has to be me. Your mistakes at least come from applying logic to language and are honest mistakes that are easily fixable. Me, on the other half, I’m hopeless. I always try to stretch my methods into the real world when they don’t truly belong there. Why, you must think that I’m a conceited idiot. I myself think that most of the time.

ORB LOGAN: Roman, that’s a falsehood. It’s true that you usually show a pompous attitude and always try to put yourself above all the rest in our conversations. But, under that facade, the real you has shown up from time to time. Why do you always think so low about yourself, Roman? If you saw things logically, like I do, you would see that you… [pulls out a vocab card] hold all the winning cards. You are at the core of Thomas’ livelihood, and he loves almost everything you create. You are figuratively and literally royalty among the Sides. So why are you the only one who can’t see that?

ORB ROMAN: I… I don’t know, Logan. I just don’t see myself worthy of all of that. I haven’t managed to do anything good enough to deserve it.

ORB LOGAN: Well, I’m not an expert on fiction quality, but I can manage numbers, and you just have to see how many subscribers Thomas has, how many views his videos get and how many people goes to see him in his live performances, even willing to travel thousands of miles to reach to where he performs. And most of that is your merit, Roman. It’s true that numbers don’t necessarily mean quality, but if everything you made was so mediocre as you say it is, why would the audience stick with us, or why would they have come in the first place? Seriously, Roman. You should stop pretending that you believe in yourself and start believing in yourself for real. It would be a vast improvement in your working routine and a boost in the results.

ORB ROMAN: Well… I guess you’re right. Thank you, Logan. I’ll try, but it’s not easy.

ORB LOGAN: Well, you know better than me. I know nothing about feelings.

[Roman watches the scene]

ROMAN: I think that’s the closest Logan and I have ever been. We clash and argue a lot, but that’s because our methods are very different. In the end, we have a common goal, and that’s to be as productive as possible for Thomas to deliver only the best of the best, and that’s why, in the end, we’ll always find a common ground to resolve our issues and work in a friendly way.

LOGAN: Agreed. We just have to get to know each other, how we can complement each other working-wise, and then we’ll deliver the best productivity we can.

PATTON: And you’ll also get to be closer friends, Logan, don’t omit that you want that too.

LOGAN: Okay, okay. Friendship is also important working-wise, so I concede that I look forward for it too.

THOMAS: Well, that’s the closest he’s gonna get to making a platonic love declaration, I guess.

VIRGIL: In public, at least.

HONESTY: Guys, look at the orb.

ROMAN: And now what’s going on?

[the room starts spiraling around Roman and he flies away as if inside a twister. In a few moments, he lands in a pitch-black place]

ROMAN: If that happens again… I’m gonna throw up… Wait, what is this place? Is this… the Dark Realm again?

[Deceit appears in front of Roman]

ORB DECEIT: Hello, Roman.

ROMAN: Deceit? You’re here for real and you can see me? How can this be? What is going on?

DECEIT: Wait, who is that? That’s not me, why is he impersonating me?

ORB DECEIT: You have so much darkness in your soul, Roman. You have just seen a few examples. Do you really think you’re of any use to Thomas in your state? I don’t think so.

ROMAN: You’re lying, Deceit. I know you’re lying. But why? I thought you were with us now…

ORB DECEIT: Oh, Roman. Will you face the ugly truth for once in your life? No one is with you. Not willingly and honestly, at least.

ROMAN: That’s not true!

[As the Deceit in the orb mentions them, they appear around of Roman, pointing at him with a reproachful gesture]

ORB DECEIT: Just think about it. You left your own brother Remus behind like a piece of dirt. You bashed Virgil and treated him like trash. You insulted Logan and mocked him on a regular basis. Even Patton has been belittled by you, because you were condescending to him and treated him as if he was unimportant and lower than you. And most important, your fears and insecurities are hindering Thomas. If he can’t get anywhere, it’s because of you, because you’re not good enough for him! Shame on you, Roman! Shame on you!

[all the figures of Thomas and the Sides start repeating the same words in unison again and again]

EVERYONE: Shame on you! Shame on you! Shame on you!

ROMAN: [holding his head] That’s not true… that’s not true…

VIRGIL: [looking at the orb in despair] What is going on? Why are these doppelgangers torturing Roman like that?

LOGAN: I think I understand. These are personifications of Roman’s fears and insecurities. The last remnants of his Dark Side self. He must defeat them in order to become a full Light Side. This is the moment of truth, guys. If he defeats, them, he’ll wake up as a Light Side. If he doesn’t… he may never wake up again.

VIRGIL: Come on, Roman. You can do this! Fight! Come back to me!

[Roman then pulls out his samurai sword]

ROMAN: [yelling] THAT’S NOT TRUE!!!

[Roman blows the sword around him and cuts the fake Sides and Deceit in half. They vanish in the thin air as he does so]

ROMAN: It’s true I have insecurities but I’m Prince Roman of Sandersia, co-owner of Thomas Sanders’ creativity! And I will never let these insecurities overcome me again! Not while I still have the love and support of all my friends!

[As he says these words, Roman’s body in the room starts glowing in gray. Soon, the gray glow turns into a bright white aura, which then disappears]

LOGAN: Roman has done it. He’s a Light Side again.

[a white light appears in front of Roman, a few meters away from him]

ROMAN: What’s that light? I… I can see my friends in there… Are… are they looking at an orb? That must have been Remus’ doing. Do they know everything I went through? Guys, wait for me! I’m coming!

[Roman runs to the light. When he enters into it, the light fills the whole orb, which then pops and disappears like a soap bubble]

REMUS: Well, there goes another one of my orbs. Pity, I would have loved to check how it tasted. I love to put all kinds of balls in my mouth…

HONESTY: That’s what he said…

DECEIT: [disgusted] I… I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that…

[Roman starts waking up. Virgil approaches him excitedly]

VIRGIL: Roman, are you okay?

ROMAN: [still a little drowsy] I… I think so…

THOMAS: Can you stand up?

ROMAN: Yes… I’m just a little dizzy, so, Virgil, please, don’t let go off me.

VIRGIL: Never. If you fall, I’ll fall with you.

ROMAN: Thanks, but I prefer if we both stand up and you save me the bump, if you don’t mind.

VIRGIL: [laughs] Don’t worry, I got you.

[Virgil helps Roman rise up]

THOMAS: We’ve seen everything you’ve been going through in that nightmare, Roman.

ROMAN: I thought so… It was so weird. Well, weird is a kind word…

THOMAS: I… I apologize, Roman. This has been my fault. I should have listened to Logan and rest before trying to do it. I collapsed in the middle of the process out of exhaustion and that caused all this mess.

ROMAN: Don’t worry, Thomas. This was all my fault, anyway. I was the one who pushed you into doing it before you were ready, and I got served my just desert.

PATTON: Thank God everything’s ended well.

ROMAN: Has it, though? What about me? Am I still a…?

VIRGIL: No, Roman, that went out well. You are a Light Side again.

ROMAN: [his faces lightens up] Really? Yes!

[Roman hugs Virgil and tries to kiss him out of excitement and joy, but their noses collide and they hurt themselves]

VIRGIL: [covering his nose, with a smile mixed with a face of pain] Ow! My nose!

ROMAN: I’m sorry. I’m just so happy! Thank you, Thomas! How can I repay you?

THOMAS: Just by being yourself, Roman, and never succumbing again to your fears and insecurities. It’s normal to feel iffy from time to time, but if you ever feel like that again, I don’t want you to isolate yourself or let your negative feelings overwhelm you. We’re your friends. We’re here to help you and support you, and together we’ll leave these stormy clouds behind. No offense, Virge.

VIRGIL: It’s okay, Thomas. I got the metaphor.

ROMAN: Thank you, so much, Thomas. I’m so happy to have you back, guys. I’m never moving away from you, ever again.

[Remus shows a bittersweet smile but says nothing. Deceit is the only one who notices that smile, but also refrains from speaking]

THOMAS: Well, I think we should all get back to the living room right now.

ROMAN: Yes, I need some fresh air from the outside world too. Let’s go.

[All the Sides and Thomas sink down, then they all rise up in the living room, except Remus who pops up]

THOMAS: Well, here we are again. How are you feeling, Roman?

ROMAN: Better than ever. And I’m ready for action whenever you’re ready, Thomas.

THOMAS: I’m glad to hear that, but I’ve had enough action for a week. All I need now is to rest and do nothing related to work, at least for the holidays.

ROMAN: Okay, Thomas. Rest is also good. It gives me time to mature the millions of ideas dancing in my head right now.

THOMAS: I’m sure they will be great, Roman. And if any of them is not so great, don’t worry. We’ll be able to make it better together. And if that doesn’t work, don’t feel bad. You make so many wonderful things that one misstep every now and again doesn’t matter at all and doesn’t make you any less great as a creator.

ROMAN: [smiles, emotional] I know, Thomas. Thank you again. [sinks down] See ya, guys.

VIRGIL: I’m going to my room now, I have to pack my things to go back into Roman’s room. Now that the problem is solved and it is again safe to return, it’s time we start living together again, don’t you think? [sinks down] See ya.

REMUS: Of course he wants to move back with Roman as soon as he can. I don’t know if I could have coped with that like him, spending two full months without… [sinks down before ending the phrase]

PATTON: Without what?

DECEIT: [sinking down, groaning frustrated but smiling at the same time] Seriously, Patton, how is it that you among all Sides are the only father of the team?

PATTON: [sinking down, shrugging confused] He keeps asking me that, and I still don’t know what he’s talking about…

HONESTY: I’d be willing to explain him, but I don’t know if he’d get over the fact that storks have nothing to do with parenthood. [sinks down] He finds that story so cute, I’m afraid to break his heart…

LOGAN: Well, I hope what happened today makes you listen to me more often, Thomas.

THOMAS: What do you mean? I listen to you all the… most of the time, Logan.

LOGAN: I’m glad that you corrected yourself mid-sentence, Thomas. The “Falsehood” I would have yelled at you would have resonated in your ears for a long time. [sinking down] Literally.

THOMAS: Yeah, that’s why I corrected myself… [to the camera] Feeling insecure is something everybody goes through from time to time. It’s not easy to get out of that feeling and a lot of people never gets out of it completely. But if we understand that everyone, myself included, are going through this and that it’s perfectly normal to feel like this, especially in stressful or new situations, we can take the steps to overcome our fears and face them with courage and hope. Getting surrounded by the people we love will also be a great help to become victorious over our fears and grow and mature as stronger and better people. Let’s grow together, shall we? Until next time, take it easy, guys, gals and non binary pals. Peace out!

[end card]

[Remus is in his room. Deceit rises up]

REMUS: Deceit? What are you doing here, snake?

DECEIT: I just wanted to talk to you, Remus.

REMUS: And what would you have to say to me, Dee?

DECEIT: I couldn’t help but notice that you kept something to yourself earlier in Roman’s room.

REMUS: And what does that have to do with you?

DECEIT: Well, you always say whatever is in your mind without any filter, so I was wondering what could make you, the brutal honesty personified, keep something that bothers you to yourself.

REMUS: I always say whatever I want whenever it pleases me. And it didn’t please me to say that in that exact moment, that’s all.

DECEIT: I know you’re lying, Remus. I can catch a liar from miles away. And I think I know the exact cause of your concern.

REMUS: Oh, really? And what do you think it is, you pythoness?

DECEIT: Roman got closer to you when he was a Dark Side, and now that he’s turned back into a Light Side and back with his former friends, you fear you’re gonna lose him again because he’s not gonna need you anymore, am I right?

[Remus looks at Deceit without saying a word]

REMUS: Gee, have you never thought on becoming a fortune teller?

DECEIT: Roman is your brother. I don’t think he’s gonna turn his back on you.

REMUS: What would you know? He was my brother when he left me trapped in that island. What do you know about abandonment and resentment over someone you love and whom you would give your life for?

DECEIT: [smirks] Everything, Remus. I know everything. I was also only a teen when Virgil, the love of my life, left me behind, trapped in the Dark Realm to pursue a new life in the Light Realm. That’s why I told you that you reminded me of myself not so long ago.

[Remus looks at Deceit, then he lets go a smirk]

REMUS: I guess we are the forsaken Sides, then. We should form a club for brokenhearted aspects.

DECEIT: Yeah, I guess so. And when I returned, I also returned full of anger and thirsty of revenge. But as I got engaged with the group, I realized I had nothing to take my revenge for, and furthermore, that the people that were in that group were the most wonderful group of people I’d ever met… And I’ll deny to have ever said that.

REMUS: Yeah, all is sweet lollipops, hard candies and popsicles… don’t mind me, I love sweet things to suck… Everything’s sweet until it gets spoiled, and then it turns bitter and poisonous.

DECEIT: I don’t think you have anything to worry about in regards of Roman. Despite it all, he’s a noble gentleman and his word is a word of honor. Once he’s decided to give someone his love and support, he’s gonna love and support them till his final breath unless they give him a reason not to. And it hurts me to say that, as that means that he will never leave Virgil for the rest of his life, but that’s the way it is.

REMUS: Could be, could be not. I only know that I have well-founded reasons to distrust him.

DECEIT: You’re wrong and you’ll see it in time.

REMUS: You’re right, I’ll see it in time.

DECEIT: Okay, Remus, I just wanted to tell you that, to make you feel better. Trust Roman. He’s your brother and he truly loves you. See ya soon. [sinks down]

REMUS: Bye, Deceit…

[Remus stares at nothing with a sad face, his eyes fill with tears]

REMUS: I’d really wish to believe you, but… well, you’re the embodiment of lies and I’m… I’m scared. Roman left me behind once. Why wouldn’t he leave me again now that he’s got what he wanted and I’m not of use for him anymore? [a tear falls down his cheek and gets stuck in his mustache] If I lose Roman again… I don’t want to lose my brother again…

[Remus sits down on the couch and starts silently crying]

[nikkalia]

Gotta Get It Right: Chapter 15

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Everyone settles in for the evening.

PAIRING: Loki/OFC

RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Descriptions of torture

Tumblr masterlist (I’ll update it eventually.) Also on Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409323/chapters/43756231

Feedback is always appreciated (just being an attention whore screaming for comments/reblogs)

Tags: @christy-winchester @hovianwookie86-captainxev  @wolfsmom1 @fadingcoast @fandom-and-feminism @igotloki @mischievousbellerina @odinsonsobsessed @mrshiddleston-uk

OMG...I posted! Yeah, I know, I’m slower than molasses in winter. But hey, it’s something, right? Go read!

“This is a guest room?”

“There are larger suites if that would better suit your needs,” Ingun stated as she placed a tray of food on the side table as Aleksa looked around the space. While considerably smaller than Loki’s suite, the space was massive compared to her home on Earth.

“Oh, gods, no! This is plenty.” Aleksa answered, stepping into the en suite. “Vegas has nothing on this place,” she muttered to herself.

“M’lady?”

“Nothing, sorry.”

“As you wish.” Ingun stood in the center of the reading area until Aleksa returned. “Two handmaidens and a steward will be assigned to you in the morning. His Majesty has also commanded that you are to be escorted in the palace at all times. A guard will be stationed outside your door.”

“Doesn’t sound prison-like at all.”

“It is for your own safety, as well as ours.”

“Naturally.” The sarcasm in Aleksa’s voice went unnoticed.

“One of the Seider novices will come in the afternoon to escort you to the academy. A seamstress will arrive in the morning to measure you for the appropriate attire.”

“What attire?”

“Training robes, daily wear, sleep clothes, and court gowns.”

“I need gowns?”

Ingun’s face showed no emotion. “His Majesty will invite you to any formal events that occur during your stay. You will want to be properly dressed.”

“I don’t do dresses.”

“Unfortunately, m’lady, you will not be given an option.” The snark in Ingun’s voice wasn’t lost on Aleksa.

“Of course not.”

“If there is nothing else, m’lady, I will withdraw.”

“No. Thank you, Ingun.” The maid curtsied and left. Aleksa blew out a sigh, rubbing her wrists. The skin underneath itched from the energy flowing around the bracelets. She wondered if she’d ever be rid of them. Or Loki.

Following a more thorough examination of her quarters, she prepared a small plate of food and moved out to the balcony. She sat down, finally allowing herself to relax enough to eat, looking out over the city Modir had described a hundred times.

“What is Asgard like?” a young Aleksa asked, her mouth full of food.

“Much like Earth, in many ways. A sun that rises and sets, summer fades into winter. Breezes blow, rains fall, creatures live and die.” Modir smiled at the child that devoured everything in front of her.

“How is ‘iffern?”

“Aleksa, slow down. No one will take it from you.” She sighed, thinking about her home. “Earth does not possess the sheer power contained within the soil of Asgard. Or the majesty. The royal city is massive and the palace is truly a sight to behold. But the most wondrous vision is the bridge between the Bifrost and the city. It’s transparent, laced with magic that shimmers in all colors of the rainbow, and sings when you step upon it.” She took a drink before adding, “Of course, the creatures and people there live far longer than they do here.”

The child’s eyes grew wide. “Does that mean we’ll die young?”

“No, little one. Those born of Asgard who have taken the Apple’s essence will live their full term.” Aleksa swallowed. “And you, my darling mixed blood, will live as long as you should. As we all do. I rather imagine that you will find a long and fruitful life here.” Modir took a bite of food.

“Do you think you’ll ever be allowed to go back?” Modir shook her head no. “Why? Is it because the Jotuns were sending raiding parties?”

“Of course not. “

“Doesn’t he care that Asgardians are dying on this planet?”

“The Allfather has many realms to concern himself with. A band of exiles is surely not at the top of that list.”

“But why not?”

“Aleksa, before he became the Allfather, Odin was a warmonger. He and his daughter invaded realm after realm, forcing them to bend a knee to his throne while his armies plundered their resources. I and the group of Asgardians who founded this village made a decision to come here when we could no longer stand by and watch other innocents be slaughtered. We confronted Odin and he, in the first show of mercy seen by any realm, offered us a choice: exile or death. We chose exile and came here with the understanding that we were on our own, never to return.”

Aleksa sat in silence, contemplating her mother’s words, for the rest of the meal. She worked through the evening’s chores and readied herself for bed. Modir entered her room, lowering the light of the lamp and kissing the child on the forehead.

“Modir?”

“Yes, child?”

“Do you think I’ll ever get to see Asgard?”

Modir smiled, pulling the blanket around the girl’s neck. “Yes, Aleksa, I believe if anyone were to return to Asgard, it would be you. But, you may not find it to be your home.”

“Right as always, Modir,” Aleksa whispered as she stood. “It definitely doesn’t feel like home.”

Loki watched her walk inside from a balcony above.

------

Aleksa stepped out of the en suite, drying the last drops of water in her hair. She felt a little more like herself after the long shower that followed her meal. As she tossed the towel into a nearby chair, she suddenly became aware of another presence in the room. She turned slowly, summoning what little power she could to defend herself.

A petite woman dressed in handmaidens clothing sat on the edge of the footstool, staring into the distance. Braided blonde hair was loosely piled on top of her head, revealing a simple pair of gold earrings complimenting a soft, pretty face.

“Can I help you?” Aleksa asked, relaxing slightly. The woman jumped to her feet only to curtsey.

“Forgive me, my lady. I did not hear you enter the room.”

“Same, which is what bothers me. What do you want?”

“I...” the woman fumbled for the words, “I am your handmaiden for the night.”

Aleksa’s head dropped, shaking. “I don’t need anything. Go do whatever it is you do.”

The maiden moved to one side, gathering up the towel before moving into the bath. She appeared soon after, Aleksa’s discarded clothes in her hand.

“That’s the only set of clothing I have at the moment,” she said, reaching for them.

“And they’ll be back before you wake.” The woman smiled, her violet eyes sparkling. “As will more clothing.”

“But Ingun said that...” The pile landed on the footstool as the maiden moved to the bed, turning down the covers.

“It’s all been arranged, my lady. The King has commanded that you are to wait for nothing.” She stood, gesturing to the bed. “Is there anything you require to aid you in sleep? Tea, or perhaps a stronger beverage? A story? Something,” she reached for Aleksa’s hand, “more relaxing?”

“No,” Aleksa said firmly, folding her arms. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I can be...”

“Listen, I don’t need all this. It’s all very nice, but very weird. I don’t need anything except to be left alone.” The maiden’s face fell, sending a wave of regret washing over Aleksa. “I’m sorry,” she offered quietly. “I’m rather self-sufficient and this is a bit unusual for me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“As you wish, my lady.” The maiden gathered the laundry to her chest, refusing to look up. “If there is anything you might require later, the guard can send for me.”

“There is one thing.”

The maiden perked up. “My lady?”

“Your name.”

“Oh,” the maiden blushed. “It’s Syr.”

“Thank you, Syr. Good night.”

The maiden curtsied again and left. Aleksa watched with curiosity, unable to shake the feeling that she’d met this girl before.

-----

Hot.

It’s too hot.

I can’t breathe.

Why...

Loki struggled against the restraints, conjuring every magic he had only to fail. The harder he fought, the higher the temperature rose. He could feel the blood boiling in his veins, but couldn’t bring himself to scream. It’s what they wanted, these Children of Thanos. Whoever that was.

“Enough,” came a deep, booming voice. “He’ll die before we have what we need.”

Even as the heat subsided, Loki’s body continued to shake. Two massive boots stepped in front of him and giant fingers wove into his hair. A new kind of pain racked his senses when his head was lifted to face the Titan.

“Greetings, Prince of Asgard. I am Thanos. I hope our hospitality has met with your satisfaction.”

Loki wanted to spit out a retort but couldn’t find the words. An infuriated glare - at least that’s what he hoped it was - was all he could muster.

“Maw tells me that you are in possession of something I seek. Something very precious.”

“And what,” Loki stuttered, “would that be?”

Thanos leaned in close. “Knowledge.”

“I know a lot of things,” he quipped, shocked to hear the sarcasm in his own voice. “Was there anything specific you had in...”

Pain tore through his body again. He groaned, growled, made every noise under the stars to keep from screaming. Thanos watched him carefully, never easing his grip.

“Misdirection won’t work in your favor this time, trickster.” The pain stopped with a nod. “Tell me what you know of the Tesseract.”

Loki wasn’t sure of his own name at that moment, much less the lore surrounding the Tesseract.

“I may know where it is,” he lied, sensing Thanos’ impatience for a response.

“Tell me.”

“I...” Loki grunted, fighting to stay conscious. “I think...it’s...Midgard.” He dared to look his captor in the face and saw confusion. “Earth.”

“You think or you know?” Thanos growled, tightening his grip on Loki’s skull.

“It’s a legend, lost there...before I was...born.”

“Are. You. Sure?”

“No...maybe...”

“You should’ve been sure.”

Thanos released him and walked away. Loki began to protest, proclaiming his confidence in the knowledge as the heat and pain returned, growing more unbearable until

He screamed, landing on the floor with a thud. The stone tiles cooled his sweat coated skin while his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkened room. The cone of silence he cast over his suite each night guaranteed his privacy...and prevented anyone’s intervention in his nightmares.

Loki pulled himself back onto the bed, panting. When he was sure he could walk, he moved into the en suite shower, throwing the cold water open as far as the faucet would allow. He slid down the wall to the floor and spent another night half asleep under the freezing water.

[aceadmiral]

Tell Me What You See

One thing I really like about the way @asexualjournal is run is that even though the whole volume comes out at one time, the editor spotlights a different article with a different pull-out quote every week so that it stays top of mind and can be easier to digest.

The other week I saw a quote that ignited my curiosity, that the “right person” is the right person for a reason. Yes, I thought, this is an idea I’d like to read about. This is something that could really be fleshed out, could be a pithy way of pushing back on one of the most frequent responses we get.

The article was a first-person account of an awkward situation where the narrator is trapped in a car with a driver who bulldozes over the author without any thought given to the idea that her idea of a good relationship and the author’s might just be different.

I want to be clear: it wasn’t a bad article. As I was reading it, though, the penny finally dropped for me why it is I don’t actually read much of The Asexual, why I am more and more frequently disappointed with Carnival of Aces entries, why Twitter makes me so frustrated.

I read and I read and I get to the end and think, “what’s the point?” I know the answer, though. They are recounting this experience to have others say, “yes, that happened to me too.” To make an environment where others can say, “I recognize this feeling.”

The point is for the author to be seen.

--Wait, let me back up.

Last spring I watched all of my man Gerald on Shortland Street. No, I don’t mean I re-watched for the umpteenth time the bits that have been up thanks to Ace Hero SootmouthNZ for 8+ years. I mean I watched every second he was on the screen.

It started as an offhand comment to my girlfriend--who of course had no idea it even existed--but as I was going through collecting the links, I noticed how all of the episodes of Shortland Street are on YouTube now. But like often happens to me, a whim turns into an obsession.

I was watching late into the night for weeks, going to work every day exhausted and not quite sure what I was doing. It was interesting to see the bits both before and after the “Asexuality Storyline” vids, especially because I was vaguely aware at how mad people were at the time over the “gay representation” being pulled out from under them, but also because after asexuality-as-a-plot ended, he was still around. Being a person.

It was right here that I realized why I felt the need to go back to this show for the umpteenth time right at this point in my life: I was trying to be in a relationship as an asexual person for the first time, and I needed to see it could be done. Even though I’d been over it again and again in my own fiction, someone else’s fiction made it more tangible. Someone else’s character standing in a kitchen ripping into a homophobe--I could take courage from that.

I know what it’s like to need to see, and I know what it’s like to be seen, but. But.

When I was in 3rd grade, I lived just down the street from my school; Google Maps tells me it was 10 houses away. Because it was a side entrance, there were rarely any people or cars around, especially when I was walking home. But if I heard a car coming, I would run and hide behind one of the big oleander bushes, braving the bees over a stranger’s eyes.

Now that I’m an adult, that’s still very much the case. I’ll fumble my key into the lock in panic if I hear a neighbor’s footsteps or hide behind a column until a respectable distance is between me and a coworker leaving the office at the same time. I’ve even attempted (without complete success) to banish my family from the kitchen if I’m cooking because even having them in the same room is too distracting.

I don’t want to be seen.

I come from an internet age where you never put up your real name or picture, and then an age after that where revealing yourself made you open to attack. Yet, I still do write incredibly personal things on the internet.

And I’ve moved more and more towards the “personal narrative” to do it.

I’ve done it because it’s safer in a way to tell one’s own story on one’s own terms. Instead of being told, for example, that if only I knew any ace women who dated women, I would totally agree that my ideas were wrong. Instead of watching people tell stories of how they personally were attacked with bear repellent and therefore you should trust them when they say asexuality is homophobic. Instead of couching thoughts of one’s own masculinity in removed language and then having male voices completely miss that crucial detail when responding.

It tears at me to do so, but I rend myself in order to sew the pieces together in a new way, that gives form--makes meaning. That means someone coming after me might be able to put them on and be protected or empowered.

My history in the asexual community is almost turning into a barrier for me. With my girlfriend, I had so many things I needed to discuss, so many options and ideas. We sat down one night with @queenieofaces​’s Five Factor Model open on my laptop, but how do you have a relationship discussion with someone when you’ve got 10 years’ head start on the nuances of things like what infidelity is, or what a non-romantic couple looks like--especially when those things are so subjective and also who says you’re right?

But, you know, she hadn’t been involved because she hadn’t seen the point. “Same hat!!” is nice, and sometimes important, even life-changing, but it only gets you so far.

And yet, while I struggle with this, I see people on twitter say things like “people keep telling us to go make our own community. Maybe we will!” and I think, where have you been thus far?

I think, what was the point of letting myself be seen?

Being in this community is not going to stop hurting me, but I’ve got enough maturity and experience and perspective to know where my limits are. This community is important to me, even if it means I have to take my own actual face to a pride parade or send my own actual name to LinkedIn connections and government agencies and Japanese city councilors. It’s worth it. It’s worth it but--in the rush of “visibility visibility” maybe keep in mind what it costs.

The other day @grison-in-space​ reblogged a post about metafandom, and it made me feel some... complicated feelings. On the one hand, I do miss metafandom (and not because people there cared about what I had to say about asexuality for some reason), but on the other, I wonder, how would it work? That phase of the internet is over, and you can’t go back; it’s folly to try and go back.

Today is today, not yesterday or 2011 or 2007. And what I notice is the desperate need to be seen: face and haircut and name and story. And that visibility is leverage now--a Boomer got mad at me in May for refusing to put up a selfie for a political cause. You win hearts and minds by standing in front of someone and saying, “Here I am. I am a person. Will you scorn me now that you’ve seen my face?” It’s powerful, and I recognize the power. I’m trying to do better, fight better, be more open with those who already know my face and name. That wears at me too.

But you know, even as I crave that meaning, I can see that just being seen is enough for some people. And I have eyes. I’ll watch.

I see you.

I see all of you.

It’s the least I can do... isn’t it?

[stusbunker]

Questions: How?

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam Winchester X Female Reader

Setting: Starts in Season 6, breaks off in Season 8

Chapter 1 of my Questions Series

A/N: I started a challenge for @ericaprice2008 and needed to build up to the fluff parts. There is canon level violence and a story of a dying kid. This is a collection of back stories from Y/N’s perspective. Other chapters are from Sam’s, hope y’all like how it goes! A comment or a reblog goes a LONG way. xoxo Stu

Sam smiled shyly down at you, his eyes twinkling with hope. And the only thing that crossed your mind was ‘How did I get so lucky?’

You first understood how misunderstood the Winchesters are, after a case in Indiana. The Brothers that had started and somehow thwarted the Apocalypse, Death and an array of demons were just regular guys with a few too many chips on their shoulders.

You and your cousin Rafe had been closing in on a pair of Djinn who were also running a substantial drug operation. Which, of course, made it harder to get to the monsters themselves. After two weeks and Rafe getting abducted did you get them within your grasp. Suddenly two bulky dudes were barking orders; guns in one hand and knives in the other.

“Back off pricks. These djinn are mine.” You spat, glaring at each of them suspiciously.

“Cool it, sweetheart. That’s fair. I can tell it’s personal,” the cocky one started, side eyeing the giant. In silent agreement they helped you flank the bottom feeders, making good use of your blood caked blade.

By the time you got to Rafe, it was too late; his body limp and drained. The look of euphoria the only solace as the sick satisfaction of killing his captors had already begun to fade. You tried to act strong in the presence of these strange hunters, but you all knew it was a mask.

Hours later and you had begun to hold normal conversation again. You chuckled humorlessly upon learning their identities. After all, they were their own type of legend. Sam spoke to you in low tones, his long hair floating in the night breeze as you told him about your cousin and how you had been hunting together most of your lives.

“How’d you get started?” He asked, true curiosity in his fathomless eyes.

You sighed and dove into your origin story: “Family camping trip. Rafe’s little sister was dying of cancer and we went as a last hoorah, so to speak. The Wendigo came at night, dragging our parents out in to the woods. Rafe, Julia and I slept in one bed. I saw it, lingering in the shadows by the door.

“The only thing that saved me was my cousin’s disease riddled body. It could smell the sickness, but we were all intertwined and it couldn’t tell which of us was poison.”

“Wow. So what happened, after?”

“Julia died about a week after we were put in foster care. Our parents were considered missing, but Rafe and I knew...a monster had stolen them in to the night forever.”

Sam didn’t offer sympathy or change the subject. Dean patted you on the back as you watched the last of Rafe’s fire smolder out. Strangers that stood with you as you mourned your last family member were strangers worth knowing.

***

It was another six months working odd jobs and figuring out your strategy as a lone hunter before you laid eyes on the notorious duo again. After a frustrating and unsuccessful tracking of a vengeful spirit, you called Bobby Singer for some advice.

“How’s my best girl?” Bobby always was sweet to you and spending time with him reminded you that not all old men were creeps.

“Got a real vexing ghost on my hands. What can you tell me about Hoodoo dispelling charms? I’m thinking someone is keeping it only half-way in check.”

After an hour Bobby called back with the right summoning to attempt to purge it for good. “Now there might be a pair of idjits nearby if you want some free help.”

“Thanks, Bobby. I’ll consider calling in the cavalry, if it goes south.”

“Keep me posted.”

You hung up and got to work on finding the ingredients. This was a nasty spook, shaking the walls and generally making it hard to light the moss in the ceremonial bowl. A slight click of a closing door sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end. You continued to flick your lighter, chanting under your breath. As it turned to steam in the air your adrenaline peaked.

Sam’s hands locked onto your clavicles, yanking you backwards. The sensation was jarring. Before you knew it both you and Sam were on your asses as the wall caved in, precisely where you had been performing your spell work. A shotgun boomed beyond the rubble, Dean was here too. Slowly and with slight annoyance at the boys and Bobby, you finished off the bitter old mistress of the house.

***

After Bobby passed and the Leviathans were sent back to which they came, you began to worry about Sam. Sure, Dean had been lost before, but something about the restlessness in his eyes told you that Sam was leaving the life behind. You weren’t more than acquaintances, so you kept your opinions to yourself. The world was crazy enough without you trying to handle his burdens too, you thought.

And regretted it instantly.

After a few bad one night stands and months of radio silence you got a late night phone call.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice was a cautious whisper.

“Winchester you better be bleeding if you’re calling me this late.” You muttered, rolling to sit on the edge of the pull out sofa you were crashing on.

“Garth said you were in the area. Up for some digging?”

“I assume you mean actual digging and not research, right?” You yawned, not really wanting to leave your lumpy bed.

“Guilty. We’ll buy you breakfast.” Sam offered, muffling the mouthpiece as Dean spoke in the background. “Dean promises there’ll be dessert.”

That got your attention, “Uh, hello? When did he show up?”

“Oh, right, well, about a month a go?” Sam sounded sheepish.

You rolled your eyes and stepped back into your boots. “You picking me up or am I meeting you?”

“Just text us your address, we’re already on the road.”

*

These were not the brothers you had known. Their faces were long with exhaustion, their words clipped and looks guarded. You realized after cleaning up at their motel that you were there as a buffer. They were fighting and needed a minder. You were no Bobby, even your best teacher voice couldn’t get their heads out of their asses.

You walked out of the bathroom with a towel on your head and a borrowed tee shirt of Dean’s. They had been yelling.

“Cut it out!” You bellowed. “You guys want to get kicked out and find another hole in the wall at this hour?!”

Sam gritted his teeth and gestured toward Dean in frustration. You crossed your arms over your chest as Dean scratched his eyebrow pointedly at Sam, with his middle finger. Slowly they relaxed, the tension rippling through the night. Sam left for a walk and you and Dean caught up.

“Purgatory? Better or worse than Hell?” You teased, but curious none the less.

“It’s not really a comparison. Hell was torture. This was constant battle. But I had a choice, and I chose to keep fighting. While, Goldilocks turned tail and found himself a little woman.” Dean grumbled.

It was starting to make sense. “So, why is he here now and not making baby Sasquatches?” You countered, knowing that Dean was missing the sacrifices Sam made for him.

“Hell if I know, Y/N.” Dean poured another finger of whiskey into your glass while he topped himself off.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back. Both of you.” You raised your glass in a toast. Dean’s head lilted to the side, not quite a nod, not quite a shrug.

A month later you were hitchhiking through Kansas when Garth sent you a message.

‘See if you can get a hold of them Winchester idjits, they stopped answering my calls.’

You held your breath and hoped the boys were on better terms.

“Hey there, handsome,” You purred into the phone. “Help a girl ease a friend’s mind?”

“Y/N, hiya sweetheart,” Dean answered gruffly. “Where the hell are you?” Dean responded to the cacophony of the roadside.

“Along I-70. You?”

“On my way, got something to show ya.”

An hour later the Impala pulled up to the window in the truckstop diner you had perched at. After a refuel, Dean drove you to the Bunker for the very first time.

Chapter 2: When

@madlu45 @dontshootmespence @because-imma-lady-assface

[sydneysageivashkov]

So @gremma-appreciation reblogged this fic and I felt guilty because I promised a sequel for the appreciation day and I still haven’t finished it, so here is what I have got:

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Emma startles, knocking paperwork flying. She looks up at Hook, who drops into the seat on the opposite side of her desk, looking at her expectantly.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” she denies instinctively. She still doesn’t know how to explain to Hook – how to explain to anyone – her decision. It would be so easy for someone to dismiss her as a lovesick girl avoiding her responsibilities as Savior for a man. And Graham is a part of her decision, yes – but so is everyone else who survived to the new timeline. So is Joanna, who takes care of baby Neal and helped to raise Snow. So are dozens of others who Emma doesn’t know quite so well, who survived Zelena but didn’t survive Regina.

Hook raises his eyebrow. “Is it because I know about what Zelena did, and no one else does?”

“No one?” double-checks Emma. She hasn’t noticed anyone else acting odd, but who knows? She’s had a lot on her plate lately.

“No one,” confirms Hook. “As far as I know, at least. But surely they would have approached you or the sheriff by now if there was anyone.” Emma feels herself slump with relief. No one else knows. No one else to pressure her to change the timeline back, no one else to try to change it without her.

Hook’s still looking at her, expression calculating. She stares back at him evenly. She’s made her decision. He won’t sway her from it.

“I can understand it,” he says at last. “If there was any way I could have Milah back with me, I would take it without a second thought.”

“It isn’t just Graham,” she says firmly. “There are dozens of reasons. Dozens of people.”

Hook nods. “Aye, I can see that, too. But not everyone might see it that way.”

The door to the station opens and Emma glances up. It’s Graham, box of doughnuts in his hands and keys dangling from his fingers. He looks a little surprised at the sight of Hook, but doesn’t comment on it as he drops the box on to Emma’s desk and kisses her forehead quickly.

“As I was saying,” says Hook, loudly. Emma rolls her eyes at him. Apparently understanding doesn’t mean the jealously has dissipated. “I heard from the Merry Men that there was a portal out in the woods. There might be some unpleasant visitors soon.” He’s been looking between Emma and Graham as he spoke, but now he looks directly at Emma. “Looks like the happy ending is over.”

Emma feels her heart constrict a little. It could be anyone. It could be any storybook villain. Hell, it could even be someone she had never heard of before. Surely there was somewhere in the multiverse that hadn’t become a story in this world.

But she can’t shake the horrible feeling that the portal was from Oz.

And, well. With Zelena happily installed as Evil Queen of the Enchanted Forest, there was only one person who could be coming from Oz.

-

“See anything?” asks Graham. He has both hands on his gun, scanning the forest surrounding them.

“Nope,” she calls back. “David?”

David jogs over, shaking his head. “Whoever it was, they’ve covered their tracks. We’re lucky that Tuck saw the portal open, or we probably would never have known.”

“They’re probably familiar with travelling in the woods, then,” notes Graham. “They could still be hiding out here now for all we know.”

“Or they could have used magic to conceal their path,” suggests Emma. She wants Graham to be right. She really wants Graham to be right. But she had to be prepared for the possibility that Regina has returned to Storybrooke.

It makes sense. She can definitely see Zelena, petty and vindictive as she is, leaving Regina with full memory of the original timeline so that Regina knows exactly what she is missing out on. But Regina survived as long as she did for a reason. She always manages to wriggle out of seemingly impossible scenarios, be it through a daring rescue by one of her allies, her own magical power, or using someone’s goodness against them.

She wants Regina as far away from Graham as possible. She wants Regina as far away from Henry as possible. She wants her entire family to be safe from Regina and all the horrors that Regina once put them through. She wants both Evil Queens gone.

“If they’re capable of using portals, then the chances are they’re also capable of wielding magic,” agrees Graham.

“If they’re the one to create the portal,” points out David. “They could have paid someone off. We just don’t know.”

David’s right. They don’t know. Emma has absolutely no idea who came through that portal, just a terrible sinking feeling that it’s Regina.

“Are you okay?” asks Graham, putting a hand on her arm. David shifts to look at her, expression concerned.

Emma forces a smile. “Peachy.”

-

Graham’s still worried at dinner time. Henry is, too. Henry had taken one glance at her, and then exchanged a very long look with Graham, before he had started chattering happily away at a mile a minute. Graham contributed, too, after spending almost the entire day together, he didn’t have so many stories to contribute.

Her boys almost succeeded. Emma felt lighter than she had all day, but sometimes as she looked at them both, she couldn’t help the stray thought: I could lose this.

Emma can deal with Zelena. She had been able to deal with Regina. But she had never confronted either of them at the height of their villainy, and based off what she knows about why Regina turned on Snow – well, Regina is not going to react well to Emma choosing Graham and the others over her.

“Dishes?” says Graham, looking at Henry. The two stand with a clatter, and Henry steals Emma’s plate before she can do the same.

“We’ll do it,” Henry reassures her. “Go sit down.” Graham looks amused but nods when Emma looks to him.

Honestly, she thinks, with fond exasperation. She follows Henry’s orders anyway, because she’s learnt better than to get in Henry’s way when he thinks he’s taking care of her, especially when Graham is backing him up. (A voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother’s points out that when they’re both trying to take care of her, then they probably have a good reason.)

She curls up in front of the television, listening to her fiancé and son in the kitchen rather than watching it. Henry’s merrily chattering away and earning laughter from Graham occasionally. Emma smiles at the sound of Henry exploding into laughter at something Graham says and wonders if she’s going to have to break up a water fight soon.

And then all sound cuts off. Emma jumps to her feet, looking around. She can see Henry and Graham through the doorway, Graham washing the plates and Henry drying them. Their mouths are still moving, and they don’t seem to have noticed anything is wrong.

Emma feels herself go very cold.

“So this is what you abandoned me for,” says Regina, and Emma spins to see her in the corner of the room, examining her nails. “A pretty, domestic life with my son and my Huntsman.”

Emma can see bait when she sees it, but she bristles anyway. “They’re not yours,” she snarls. Especially not Graham. Emma can see how Regina lays her claim to Henry, even if Emma hates it: but Regina has nothing on Graham, nothing.

“It seems the best you can do if picking up my scraps,” muses Regina.

Emma doesn’t think, just raises her hand and pushes. The magic swirls out from her fingers and slams Regina back against the wall. “They’re no one’s scraps,” she hisses. “They’re people – beautiful, wonderful people.” Regina pushes herself back to her feet, movements slow and painful. Her eyes flit to something behind Emma, and she smirks.

Emma doesn’t risk glancing around, but then she hears Graham demand, “Who are you and what are you doing here?” Henry appears by Emma’s side, peering at Regina with a mixture of curiosity and worry. Emma realises, distantly, that whatever spell Regina cast must have been one way, and that Graham and Henry must have heard Regina being thrown against the wall.

Emma pushes Henry behind her; she doesn’t think Regina would try to physically harm Henry, but she isn’t willing to take any risks.

“A better question would be what you’re doing here, pet,” says Regina, her voice silky. Her eyes slide over to Emma on the last word: the term isn’t going to have any effect on Graham, not without his memories of the other timeline, but Regina knows it’s enough to get under Emma’s skin.

“Get out,” snarls Emma. “Get out of my house.”

“Touchy,” titters Regina. Emma starts to lift her hand again, and then – gone. Regina’s gone, just a quick spell then poof!

“Who was she?” asks Henry. Graham meets Emma’s gaze over his head, expression worried. “Is she a villain?”

“Probably,” says Emma. The panic is beginning to recede and she grasps for a plan. “Call my parents and tell them to come here,” she tells Graham. “They’ll need to know.”

“Who are you calling?” asks Graham, as she starts to search her bag for her cell.

Emma pulls it out and turns the screen on. “Hook.”

-

Hook is the last to arrive, and he raises his eyebrows at the sight of the impromptu war council arranged in the living room. “Never thought I’d see the day when I was invited to one of these,” he mutters, gingerly taking a seat next to David.

“Regina was here,” she tells him, and his eyes shoot up to look at her.

“Well, then,” he says, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms. “I can see the need.”

“What’s going on?” breaks in Snow. “Who’s Regina?”

Emma bites back a bitter smile. Irony was proving to be one of her closest companions in this timeline. “A month ago, I drank some of the water from the wishing well, and it restored something to me. Memories,” she explains. “Memories of another timeline that Zelena changed into this one. In the original timeline, Zelena was abandoned by Cora as a baby, and Cora’s second child became the Evil Queen.”

“And Regina is that Evil Queen?” asks David. “She knows?”

Emma nods. “Zelena would have placed Regina in the life she lived before the change, but left Regina with all her memories, so she would know what she had lost,” she says. “I guess Zelena didn’t account for how crafty Regina can be.”

David places his arm on the table and exhales, eyebrows raised. “Two Evil Queens,” he says. “Can’t we ever have a break?”

“Regina is very cunning, and spent a long time under Rumplestiltskin’s tutelage,” says Hook. “And more over, she knows all of you, while only Emma and I know her. You all have to be on your guard.”

Graham studies Hook. “You remember, too. For how long?”

Hook shrugs. “About the same amount of time as Swan, far as I can tell,” he says. “She knew when I first approached her about it. Thought she might want to change it back, being the Savior and all.”

All eyes turn to Emma and she shifts awkwardly under their scrutiny. “As awful as Zelena can be, she was never as terrible as Regina at the height of her terror. There are dozens of people alive today that wouldn’t be otherwise because I made that decision.”

“Including me,” realises Graham. “She said that what I was doing here should be the question, not what she was doing here,” he explains to David and Snow, but his eyes are still on her.

Emma swallows. “Including you,” she echoes.

There’s a heavy silence around the table as everyone evaluates this. Graham and Emma keep staring at each other. She can’t tell how he feels. She certainly doesn’t know how she would feel if she was told she was dead in the original timeline.

She hopes Henry isn’t listening outside the door. It would be a terrible thing for a child to learn, that the closest thing he has to a father had been murdered in another timeline by the woman who would have been his adoptive mother.

Finally, Graham clears his throat. “We should keep planning,” he says. Emma watches him carefully, but his expression is firm. His death is something they can talk about later; right now, they have to prepare.

“Okay,” says Emma. “Regina’s come back to Storybrooke to discover that I have no plan in restoring the timeline. She’s angry and is going to lash out at me – through the three of you, most likely.” That is aimed at Graham and her parents.

“Not Henry?” checks Snow.

Emma hesitates. “She won’t intentionally harm him – physically,” she adds, thinking of the hurting boy she had first met. “He could be collateral damage, though.” Collateral damage, she thinks, disgusted. But it would hardly be the first time she had endangered him while targeting someone else. While targeting Emma.

Three hours later, their home is once again empty. Emma finds Graham standing in the door to Henry’s bedroom, watching him sleep. He’s curled up into a ball, clutching a pillow. Henry’s definitely sleeping, then – when he fakes it, he always is stretched out.

Emma slides in next to Graham and wraps her arms around him. “Are you okay?” she whispers.

Graham rests his head on her shoulder. “Not sure,” he replies. “I keep looking at Henry and thinking, ‘I could have missed this’.”

Emma closes her eyes and squeezes him. He had missed this, once. “You’re here now,” she says. “I’m not going to let her take you again.” She pulls back slightly so she can rest her hand on his chest, feeling the comforting thump-thump-thump that’s been there ever since they stole the hearts back just after the Curse broke.

Graham breathes in deeply. “Was she like Zelena?”

Emma feels her heart drop at the thought. Graham never deserved what they did to him, but no one ever does. “Yes.”

“Except Regina decided to kill me,” Graham mutters, “while Zelena thought she could keep me enslaved. I don’t know which of them is worse.”

Emma wishes she had an answer for him. His heart keeps beating under her hand. “You’re here with me now,” she says, hoping it was the right thing.

Graham pulls her back into a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and prays they can stop Regina before she can do any more damage.

[darkwing-katy]

Second Chance - Part Six

(No gif because I’m posting from a hotel with crappy wifi…sorry, haha)

So our family vacation is going to throw things off a bit in terms of me posting. I probably will not be able to post on Sunday for the next two weeks, but I’ll still be writing, so when vacay is over, I’ll for sure be a ble to post a few chapters pretty fast. I already know what’s gonna happen in the next few chunks, it’s just writing them and then editing and then posting that’s the time consuming part, haha. Thanks to everyon who’s commented or messaged me and reblogged this story! It’s so amazing to see how much everyone’s enjoying it! Let me know if you wanna be tagged in upcoming chapters!

Also, special thanks to @sannvers for proofing this chunk!

Title: Second Chance

Pairing: Eventual Gaston x Fem!Reader

Rating: T

Words: 7,876

Summary: You try to stop Gaston from shooting the Beast and falling to his death, but you arrive too late to save him. As you sit there, sobbing, the Enchantress offers you a second chance to save him.

Tagging: @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @hobbithorse19 @leah5684 @princessbelgoof @captainskyline @theoncergames @geeky-girl-394 @were-allstoriesinthe-end084 @brooke-supernatural16 @certainasthesvn @jordyhaley @superlokidwholock @smilesnjh @prongspower @bitchingqueenoferebor @scarletdarkholme @hemmingbaes @bae-kage @areuslow @lovelylpevensie @uknwwhttheysayboutthecrzy1s @moonbeams-and-pie @17gnomes-in-a-trenchcoat @superwholockedrosx @panda-reads-stuff @ultimatetrashlord @elenawrit @the7thsilence @blackxthexbeast @rainwing-galaxy @arkhamsnight @imoyu-trashblog @martapetrovic @ciaprincess @juggernaut-jones @admerxin13 @fangirlx26 @epicfallenismine @izzymaria1994 @loveablelulu13 @malfoy-milkovich-royalty @kylorenlover15 @banana-cat @withouthannah @stone0502 @shiroyuki18

Previous Chapter

The problem with living in a gigantic castle full of servants, you found, was that there wasn’t much for you to do besides wander around or read. Oh, sure, the servants were constantly bustling around, either cleaning or cooking or some other chore, but you were used to being productive. You loved reading, but part of the fun of reading was getting chores done in order to read.

It was your only fourth day in the castle, and you were actually bored, lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling.

“How is this even possible?” you asked yourself. Your room gave no response, earning a sigh from you. “I’m lucky. I somehow became friends with someone who fell in love with a prince and now I’m living a fantasy. People would kill to be in my shoes right now.” You sat up. “No wonder Arabella created those elaborate daydreams. She lived in a secluded mansion, and she was probably just as bored as I currently am.”

You could always visit Gaston, the darker voice in your head suggested.

You actually did want to visit him and see if his sleeping had been improved by the pillow. However, whenever you thought about bringing him breakfast, the mental image of him rubbing his thumb across your wrist popped up, making you balk at the idea. You had lain in bed for almost an hour before you’d fallen asleep last night, trying to determine his motives for such an action. Ultimately, you’d came to the conclusion it was not because he had feelings for you, but rather because he was bored and lonely and you were the only human being who took the time to speak with him.

Let’s hold off on that for now, shall we? You stood and began to dress for the day, slowly as your hand was still sore, all the while trying to figure out what to do. “I could read. I could take a long walk around the gardens. I could talk with Mrs. Potts or maybe become friends with some of the others.” Your stomach grumbled. “I could eat—yeah, I’ll definitely do that.” Your dress was now on, and you started brushing your hair. “I could write a letter to Mama and Papa. That might be good. Oh, I wonder if they’ve written me?” You twisted the (Y/H/C) strands into a braid. “But they wouldn’t know I’m living in a castle now, so if they did, the letter would be at the house in Villenueve. Which means I’d have to go there and risk running into LeFou again.”

But why is that a bad thing? You stopped and admired your braid in the mirror. “I guess it isn’t,” you said, replying to your mental question out loud. “It’s just…I don’t know. I feel bad for him.” You shook your head. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with this someday, won’t I? Might as well get it over with now.”

You pulled your boots on and laced them up, decision made. You were going into town for the day, which meant you needed to see if Belle would bring Gaston lunch.

You found her in settled into a chair in the library. Adam was nowhere to be seen, although you were sure he was somewhere nearby.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Belle said, not looking up from her book.

“Bonjour, Belle. Can I ask a favor?”

This time, she looked at you, forehead crinkled with curiosity. “Of course. What is it?”

“I’m going into town today. I‘ll be back by supper, but I was wondering if you’d maybe bring Gaston some lunch?” You were proud of yourself for not blushing at the request. It seemed like you were finally getting used to the situation. “I’m going to bring him some food before I leave, but I wanted to make sure he’d get something between this morning and this evening.”

Belle smiled warmly at you. “Of course I can do that.”

You grinned back at her. “Thanks. You’re such a great friend, Belle.”

She laughed. “You’re not too bad yourself, (Y/N).” You rolled your eyes, which made her laugh again. “I’m joking. You’re a great friend, too.”

You tossed your hair dramatically. “I know,” you replied with a fake air of pomposity.

Belle raised a brow. “Obviously Gaston’s ego is rubbing off on you,” she said, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes.

You gasped in mock shock. “How dare you say such a thing! I’ve always known I’m a fantastic friend.”

The two of you giggled. Once you’d calmed a bit, you told your best friend farewell and made your way to the kitchen. You waved at Mrs. Potts when you saw her, and she waved back. You grabbed two apples—one for you now, and one for later—then began to pile food onto a plate for Gaston.

“I’ve never seen someone eat so much food as you do,” a small voice said behind you. You turned and saw Chip watching you as you grabbed a full loaf of bread.

“Chip!” Mrs. Potts hissed, clearly mortified at his words. He glanced at her and shrugged.

“What, Mama? I’m just saying!”

She marched over to his side and gave you an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I’m afraid Chip doesn’t quite understand how rude it is to comment on a person’s eating habits.”

You laughed, fully amused by both Chip’s comment and Mrs. Pott’s reaction. “It’s quite alright. I’m not offended in any way.” You winked at Chip, who grinned at you.

“See, Mama? It’s okay! She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re funny? Is that what you think?” Mrs. Potts rubbed his head affectionately, mussing his hair. “How about you go help Plumette dust for an hour? Then we’ll see who’s the funny one.”

Chip pouted. “Aww, Mama. I hate dusting.”

You took a bite out of your apple while Mrs. Potts chided her son. “That’s what you get for being rude like that. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before saying something!” She gave him a small push. “Off you go.”

Chip trudged off, still pouting. You tried to hide your amusement with the apple, but when Mrs. Potts turned to you, you could see that she was also amused. “I’m so sorry about him,” she apologized again.

“It’s fine, really.” You dropped your apple on the tray and lifted it.

“Do you need any help with that?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.” You smiled at the older woman and exited the dining room. From there, you went up the grand staircase and through the familiar open door that led to the cell.

“Good morning, Gaston!” you called when you were close enough.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” he called back, and you couldn’t resist a wide grin.

You opened the door and sauntered in. Gaston was standing next to the door, ready to take the tray from you. You handed it off to him and remained standing while he sat, not seeming to notice that you weren’t following suit until he glanced back up at you.

“You’re not sitting,” he stated plainly. You shook your head.

“I actually have to leave. I’m going into town today.”

Gaston’s shoulders slumped, indicating his disappointment. “Ah. Might I ask why?”

You smirked at him. “I’ve got a bet to win.”

Immediately, he perked up, a handsome smile stretching across his lips. “I see.”

“Yep.” You saw him pick up the apple you’d bitten into and lifted your hand. “That’s mine.”

His eyes flicked to your raised hand and to the apple, as if he was contemplating taking a bite just to annoy you. You cleared your throat, earning a cheeky wink from him as he tossed the fruit back to you. You caught it in your bad hand and grimaced at the twinge of pain it produced. “How’s your hand?”

“Better.” You tossed the apple to your other hand and flexed your fingers. A good night of sleep had done wonders, but it would still be another day or two before they didn’t hurt.

You thought you heard him mutter, “Good”, but when you looked back at him, he hadn’t moved or given any indication of saying anything. You chose to react as if he hadn’t spoken. “Belle will bring you food later. I’ll be back this evening.”

“Is that a promise?” He was staring at you again with those green eyes. You found yourself nodding but maintaining eye contact.

“Yes. I’ll be back tonight,” you repeated, this time more firm.

He turned back to his food. “I’ll be looking forward to hearing that story about the church, then.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped out of the cell. “You’ll be looking forward to that for a long time,” you replied. His laughter echoed down the steps with you as you left, giving you a warm feeling inside.

You did have a letter from your parents. It was tucked under a rock on the stairs that led to your small cottage. You retrieved the letter but didn’t open it. You wanted to take your time with everything today.

“Oh, there’s dust everywhere.” You stared at the interior of your house and the fine layer of dust that had settled on everything. “Well, I guess I should’ve expected that.” You rolled your shoulders, getting out the small kinks that had formed from riding, then walked over to the small cupboard where you stored your broom.

As you began sweeping your dirty house, you scolded the household items. “Oh, floor. I haven’t even walked on you in a week! Why are you like this? Table, you’re next, so don’t be laughing at the floor.” The familiarity of being home was relaxing, and soon you were singing to yourself. “How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold onto, never easy, but we try.”

Hmm, I should say hi to Maurice while I’m here.

“Sometimes our happiness is captured. Somehow a time and place stand still. Love lives on inside our hearts, and always will.”

Despite your initial complaints, the house wasn’t truly that dirty. You’d finished Maurice’s song at the same time you finished sweeping. You replaced the broom and set to work on wiping down the table and chairs, this time humming a peppier tune. You didn’t realize you were humming LeFou’s ode to Gaston until you were nearly done with it, and you paused for a moment.

He really cares about him, doesn’t he? You thought, glancing at the rag in your hand. And here I am, letting him think that Gaston is dead. You sighed and resumed wiping down the fireplace mantel. You needed to tell LeFou the truth. But it can wait a little bit longer.

You effectively killed a couple of hours by cleaning your house. You’d rearranged things a bit, you’d dusted literally everything, and you’d made your bed (which had been unmade all of this time!). You stood back to admire your work. With an appreciative nod, you grabbed the letter from your parents and stuffed it into your satchel, along with a few folded papers containing recipes that you’d stumbled across. You didn’t care if there were servants who could make a cake—you hadn’t baked anything in a long time and when you’d seen the recipe that your grandmother had always used, you’d been struck by a sudden desire to cook again.

You left the house and made your way into town. You passed by the baker, and, after a moment of consideration, bought a small meat pie to snack on. You made a contented sound when you took the first bite. Castle food was perfect, but this pie tasted like home. It tasted like sitting in Belle’s house, laughing with her and Maurice when he spilled paint all over himself. It tasted like sitting in the hills overlooking Villenueve, reading and daydreaming about grand adventures. It tasted familiar and new and wonderful and ordinary all at once.

You were so lost in your memories and the pie that you didn’t notice Peré Robert until you’d nearly run into him. Fortunately, he saw you and stepped out of the way.

“Good day, (Y/N)! I haven’t seen you in a while,” he greeted warmly.

You looked up from your pie. “Oh! Peré Robert! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!” You held up the pie. “I was too busy enjoying this.”

The older man laughed, prompting a smile from you. “It’s quite alright. How’s the castle? Belle mentioned that you were staying there now.”

“She did?” She must’ve visited him yesterday. “It’s nice. And it’s huge! The Prince has an enormous library filled to the brim with books of all sorts—but I do miss seeing you whenever I want something new to read.”

He laughed again. “Well, I can’t say I’ll ever have quite as many books as the Prince, but you may still borrow any books you’d like from me.”

You grinned. “Thanks.” You turned to walk away, then spun back around. “I have a question, actually.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“Do you know if this town has ever been invaded?”

He frowned as he pondered your question. “I’m not sure. I haven’t lived here all my life, and I can say that there hasn’t been an invasion of any sort since I moved here.” He nodded towards the market, where you could see Monsieur Jean feeding his horses. “Monsieur Jean has lived here all his life. I’m certain he might know.”

You nodded. “Thanks.” He nodded as well, and the two of you parted ways with a wave. You took another bite of the pie before heading towards Monsieur Jean. “Hello, Monsieur Jean!”

“Why, look, it’s (Y/N)! How are you, dear girl? How’s castle life?” The older man smiled at you.

“I’m well, thanks. And castle life is good. Your wife makes the best tea.”

Jean smiled. “Ahh, yes, Beatrice has a special talent when it comes to tea. No matter what kind it is, when she makes it, it’s perfect.” He leaned in close, as if he were to whisper a secret. “She also seems to know what kind of tea will make a situation better. It’s like magic!” He winked, and you were amazed at how different Jean was now that he’d regained his memories. He was always friendly, yes, but now he seemed positively jolly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why haven’t you moved into the castle yet? I’m sure she’d love to be close to you. And Chip would love to have someone to play with.”

Jean’s smile dimmed. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly. “They’ve remembered me all this time, but I haven’t remembered them. What if they don’t want to be with me?”

You shook your head. “That’s not the case at all! Trust me.” You gave him a big smile.

The older man face brightened. “Really? Then I shall begin packing tonight!”

You laughed at the older man’s enthusiasm. “I do have a question, though.”

“Fire away, (Y/N)!”

You leaned against one of the stable posts. “Has Villenueve ever been invaded?”

Jean frowned. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that to be your question, but yes.” He sat on a barrel. “It was, oh, probably about fifteen years ago? Before the war.” You worked on eating your pie while he spoke. “There were a few Portuguese invaders—I suppose they were scouting the area for weak spots prior to the war. I don’t know for sure why they attacked, but they did. Perhaps they thought Villenueve was a small village and wouldn’t resist.” He chuckled. “They were quite wrong, of course.” He met your eyes with his. “There’s a reason we all loved Gaston so much, you know.”

You had just eaten the final piece and had to cover your mouth to keep it from falling out as you gasped. “What?!” you exclaimed, not bothering to worry if you were being rude by talking with food in your mouth.

Jean chuckled again. “Oh, yes. He was a young lad then, about sixteen, if memory serves, and he managed to rally us all up. I don’t know how or why he did it, but he did.”

“I’ll tell you why,” a sharp voice cut in. The two of you turned to see Madame Clothilde watching you with a sneer. “It was because of his father, Monsieur Legume. He wanted to show off.”

You stifled a snort at the name. Gaston’s last name is Legume? Why am I just now learning this? I mean, I guess I never cared too much about his last name, but wow. That’s worthy of a tease later.

Clothilde and Jean ignored you. “Now, Madame, we don’t know what happened in that house,” Jean said in an attempt to chide her.

Clothilde rolled her eyes. “I guarantee you, if he’d had a proper mother, then he wouldn’t have done it.”

“Then we would have been destroyed!”

“I’m just saying, it’s not appropriate for a man of that age to take on the responsibility of saving us!”

“Yes, perhaps so, but we’re lucky he did. He was smart and charismatic, and that’s why we survived.”

You coughed. “So…Gaston really did save the village when he was sixteen?”

Jean nodded. “Yes, he did! He saved us all, and then he went off to fight in the war and returned a Captain. Our very own hero. Until, of course, you know…” He trailed off, and the three of you remained in silence as you all remembered that night.

“Do you still think of him that way?” you asked quietly.

Clothilde scoffed and crossed her bony arms over her chest. “He went crazy that night. But he was going crazy before that. He just needed an excuse.”

Jean frowned at the older woman. “I seem to remember you were among the first to follow, Madame.”

She gave him a dirty look. “And I seem to recall you joining in as well, Monsieur.”

You suddenly felt like you needed to defend Gaston’s actions. “Maybe he truly believed that the Beast would harm the villagers. Did you ever consider that, Madame? And since you all considered him the town hero, he felt like it was his duty. His intentions may not have been completely altruistic, but that doesn’t mean you should be calling him crazy!” You felt yourself getting louder as you spoke, but you didn’t care. You knew that his main motives were jealousy and narcissism, but that didn’t give her the right to talk about him like that!

Both Jean and Clothilde were staring at you, mouths agape at your small tirade. You turned to Jean. “I hope to see you at the castle soon. Thank you for your help.” You sensed that Clothilde was preparing to respond to your rant, so you strode away before she could say anything.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” you heard LeFou call from behind. You ignored him, but he easily ran up to you, getting in front of you to force you to stop. “(Y/N),” he repeated.

“What?” you snapped.

“I couldn’t help but overhear—well, you were practically shouting!” he added when you glared at him. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying about Gaston.”

“What of it?”

He flinched at your tone, reminding you of a small child. You felt a twinge of regret. “I just thought it was nice of you to defend him like that.” He stood aside to let you pass, but you remained motionless.

“Thanks,” you muttered, staring at the ground.

He clapped your shoulder, sending you forward a little. “Sorry. Do you want to take a walk?”

You nodded, sensing that this might be a good time to tell him the truth about his friend.

He motioned forwards, towards the entrance to the town. “Lead the way.” You started walking, the stout man next to you. “You know you were wrong, though,” he said as you passed the wig store. “About Gaston.”

“Yes.” You caught a glimpse of the three bimbettes through the window, giggling at each other. “I’m well aware that his motivation stemmed from jealousy towards Belle’s affection towards the prince-turned-Beast as well as an unhealthy amount of a hero complex.”

LeFou winced at your words. “Yeah,” he agreed. “So then why did you defend him?”

You had almost reached the entrance. “Because she shouldn’t be so quick to point fingers when she was just as eager to storm the castle as him. And because she shouldn’t call him crazy just because he made a few bad choices.” You considered your words, then added, “Or rather, a lot of bad choices.”

LeFou gave you a perplexed glance. “I thought you hated him,” he said slowly. “Why do you sound as if you pitied him?”

“I hated his actions towards my best friend, but I didn’t hate him as a person. Although I came pretty close once you told me what had transpired between the two of you.” You gave him a sympathetic look. “I know it can’t mean much, coming from me, but I’m sorry he did that to you.”

He smiled at you, clearly grateful. “Thanks.”

There was a silence as you began trekking up a nearby hill. It was early in the afternoon by now, and you loved the feeling of warm sunlight on your skin. I wonder if Gaston can feel the breeze in his tower.

“What’s wrong?” LeFou asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh. I hadn’t realized that.” You tried to smile, but it came out feeling forced. Now’s as good time as any to tell him, right? “LeFou, I have to tell you something.” Without realizing it, you started walking faster. The shorter man sped up to keep at your pace.

“What is it?”

You stopped and turned. You could see part of the village from here, and if you continued to the top, you might be able to see the castle in the distance. “I…” Just tell him already! your mind screamed. “I…you know how you were asking me if I saw Gaston fall?”

LeFou stopped walking. “Yes,” he said carefully, watching you.

Tell him! “What if I told you that I did?”

Emotions ran across LeFou’s face. Confusion, relief, fear, despair, and others that you couldn’t identify. “What?” he asked dumbly.

You sighed and started playing with your braid, unsure how to proceed but knowing you needed to. “I…you told us where he was, and Belle and I got separated. He was on a bridge between towers, and he shot the Beast. Then he fell.” You took a deep breath. “I tried to save him, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

You glanced at LeFou to see his reaction. His eyes had tears in them, but he seemed to be keeping them confined to his eyes. “So…he’s dead, then,” he mumbled, looking at the grass in despair.

“Not exactly.”

His head snapped up so fast you heard his neck pop. “What?!”

Your fingers were starting to tug apart your braid and rebraid it. “He did die, but…he’s not dead now, if that makes sense.”

“(Y/N), what are you talking about?”

A light breeze caressed you, almost as if it was encouraging you. You forced yourself to look LeFou in his dark brown eyes. The wind tossed his hair around, and he was watching you intently, hope and desperation evident on his face.

Just do it!

“He’s in a cell in one of the towers,” you finally confessed. “The Enchantress that cursed the Beast appeared to me and offered a second chance at saving him. Uhm, I took it, and I got there in time and I saved him and now he’s locked up and no one knows about it except the Prince, Belle, and myself. And you, I guess.”

LeFou opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. You said that Gaston died, and now you’re telling me he’s alive?”

You cringed. “Yes?”

LeFou took a moment to process your words. He ran his hand through his hair as he contemplated the veracity of what you were saying. “Let’s say I did believe you. Why would you of all people bother saving him?”

It took a minute for your brain to realize he was doubting you. You dropped your braid, slightly frustrated. “Because I care about him!” you exclaimed. Immediately, you threw your hands over your mouth, but it was too late. You’d already admitted it. At least you didn’t say that you love him. That would be bad.

“You do?” the shorter man asked softly.

“Just because I’m not as obvious as you with my affections doesn’t mean it’s not there.” You hadn’t meant it to sound as cold as it did, and you regretted it. LeFou’s face hardened, though his eyes were still teary. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed. But at least his eyes softened at your apology. He sighed, inhaling deeply with his next breath, and then his face broke into a small smile. “But Gaston is alive?”

You returned the smile. “Yeah. He is. Alive and as annoyingly flirtatious as ever.”

He laughed loudly at that statement, and you saw a few tears break free. “Well, that’s Gaston for you. He never knows when to turn it off.”

You shook your head. “No, no he doesn’t.”

Another breeze brushed past the both of you, rustling hair and clothes. “Wait,” LeFou suddenly piped up. “The other night. Why didn’t you tell me he was alive then?”

Because I was afraid? Because I’m selfish? Because I didn’t think it was important? “I don’t know.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because you deserve to know.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I should’ve told you then, but I was afraid. When I saved him, I asked Adam—the prince—to keep it quiet.” You sighed. “I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea. Sooner or later, people are going to find out, and I don’t know what I’ll do then.” You waved a hand towards town. “I don’t know how they’ll react. I made an impulse decision and now I’m dealing with the consequences.”

“Do you regret it?”

You shook your head rapidly. “No! Not once.” You thought for a moment. “Well, okay, I came close once you’d told me what he’d done to you.”

LeFou’s eyes widened. “You stormed off. I didn’t think too much of it, but I remember you storming off.” He frowned. “What happened?”

“I yelled at him. And then I punched him.” You held up your bruised hand. “Didn’t do as much damage as I’d hoped, but it felt good.”

LeFou snorted. “I bet it did.” He crossed his arms and shook his head slowly. “I was right, then.”

You cocked your head and furrowed your brow. “About what?” you asked, curious.

The breeze knocked a few strands of hair into his face. He tossed his head to clear his mouth of the hair. “There’s something between you two.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off. “You’re talking about him as if you consider him a friend, even after everything he’s done. You told me just now that you care for him.” He began ticking off his fingers. “Then there’s the obvious tension between you two, the fact that he complained about you as often, if not more, than he talked about Belle….There’s something there.”

You blushed. “No, I’m afraid you’re wrong.” You glanced at the sky. The sun was bright, forcing you to squint. “I mean, I’ll confess that I feel affection for him, but it’s one-sided.” You smiled sadly to yourself. “Even if he acts a little less boorish than he used to. I think it’s because he’s bored. I’m the only one that spends time with him, you see.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw LeFou shaking his head, his nose crinkled in disagreement. “He let you punch him. It’s one thing if it’s playful and flirty, but I’m assuming it was anything but that.” He grimaced. “Not that he’d hit a woman back, but he has a temper, and he wouldn’t just take it.”

“He was probably thrown off by how furious I was,” you muttered.

“That’s the thing. Why would your anger throw him off if he didn’t care about your opinion? If you were just the woman who kept Belle away from him, your anger wouldn’t mean anything.” A cloud covered the sun, shading everything for a few minutes. “There’s a thing there. Apparently it’s an unspoken thing, but it’s there nonetheless.”

You laughed in an attempt to dissuade LeFou. “I’m telling you it’s one-sided. I like him, he’s bored, and Belle is no longer an option. There is no unspoken thing.”

He shrugged, clearly not believing you. “So then what’s he doing right now?”

“Well, Belle probably brought him some food for lunch. Usually, I do that, but since I came to town today…” You stretched your arms out. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s reading?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to visit?”

LeFou pursed his lips. “I do. Believe me, I do. But I also don’t, you know?” You nodded. “I don’t even know if we’re still friends after what happened.”

“You could always wait a few days.” You chose your next words with care, not wanting to offend him. “It would give you a chance to work out how you feel towards him. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to love someone who used and abandoned you like that.” You placed a hesitant hand on LeFou’s shoulder. “You have time.”

“Do I? How long will he be there?”

“I have no clue. Like I said, it was an impulsive decision, and I’m beginning to see how much I didn’t think this through.”

“Fair enough.”

You returned to the castle feeling much better than you had when you’d left. Being busy all day had done wonders for your mentality, and the added benefit of LeFou knowing the truth about Gaston had alleviated a vast chunk of your guilt. You hadn’t expected him to be as sweet as he was, and while that made you more angry at Gaston for how he’d treated LeFou, you also had realized that LeFou was tough underneath his nice exterior. The two of you had talked for quite some time about how to evaluate the villagers’ potential reactions to Gaston being alive. You’d also spent some time catching up with Maurice, but that had been much more brief as suppertime approached. You’d finally told the older man farewell with a hug. When you’d stepped up onto your horse, you’d been surprised by LeFou bringing you a giant satchel filled with some of Gaston’s clothing. You weren’t sure if you were going to give them to him yet, but it was considerate of his loyal friend to give them to you.

You hadn’t realized how much you wanted to see Gaston until you reached the castle. You smiled at the servants as you ran into the dining room, this time grabbing enough food for the both of you so you could eat with him instead of having to wait any longer.

“Well, look who’s back,” came Gaston’s cheerful voice as you reached the top of the stairs.

You rolled your eyes, although you knew he wouldn’t be able to see it. “Did you miss me?” you asked as you reached the cell door. He jumped up and approached you as you pulled the lever while balancing the full tray on your arm. Once the door was open, he repeated his action of taking the tray from you, which brought a smile to your face. How gentlemanly of him, you thought. You noticed that his ponytail had been retied, though it wasn’t as styled as usual, so now he looked more like his old self instead of a prisoner.

“Why? Did you miss me?” he asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

You made a face at his words, even though they were true. “Not at all,” you lied. “Did Belle come up?”

“Oh, yes. She brought me lunch, and we spent some time talking. She wasn’t quite so focused on my crimes as she was yesterday.” He eyed the tray. “Are you planning on joining me this time? There’s more food than usual.”

You couldn’t confirm vocally because that would indicate that you did indeed miss him, so instead you grabbed a bowl and leaned against the wall. “Did you enjoy your conversation?” you asked, trying to keep the subject on Belle.

Gaston grinned, showing all of his perfect teeth. You gave a mental swoon at the sight. “I always enjoy conversations with gorgeous women.”

Something about the way he said that sent a small surge of jealousy into your chest. You felt bad about it, knowing that it was caused by his obvious feelings for your best friend who didn’t reciprocate, but the jealousy was still there.

It must’ve shown in your face because his grin dimmed slightly. “What?” he asked, sounding unsure at your reaction. You didn’t answer. His next comment only added to your frustration: “I meant that as a compliment!”

You tried not to give him any proof of your feelings, instead raising the bowl to your lips and slurping some of the soup. As usual, he didn’t take the hint.

“Are you jealous of Belle?”

Damn, that was perceptive of him. You felt your face heat up, which was furthered when Gaston laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, but it hurt nonetheless.

“You are, aren’t you? You’re jealous.” He sauntered over to you and gave you a playful punch to your shoulder. “Admit it, (Y/N).”

You scoffed, and he poked you. “I’m not jealous. Of course you would assume that,” you denied, sliding down the wall. He followed suit, still holding the tray. His shoulder brushed against yours when he reached the ground, pushing you a little. Automatically, you pushed back with your shoulder, careful not to spill your soup. “I’m just hungry. And possibly a little concerned that once again, you’ve made this all about you.”

He blew a tuft of air out of his nose in mock disdain and set the tray down. “I did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

You slurped some more of your soup and waited patiently until he’d picked up his bowl and started eating. Then, with a smirk, you continued. “Did too.”

Gaston, not expecting your comment, made a choking sound and nearly dropped his bowl. “Mon dieu, woman, you’re stubborn!” he exclaimed, wiping his chin and glaring at you.

You shrugged in what you hoped was a coy manner. “It’s not my fault you assumed you’d won just because I stopped. You should know better by now.” You lifted your bowl to your lips. “Besides, out of the two of us, you’re clearly the more stubborn one.”

Gaston huffed. “I’m not stubborn. I’m determined. I refuse to give up until I’ve won. If anyone’s stubborn, it’s you, (Y/N).”

You raised an eyebrow. “Alright. I’ll admit it if you do.” His eyes narrowed, but he was smiling, so you continued. “I’m stubborn. Your turn.”

He laughed. “Well, I am a man of honor, so I’ll admit that perhaps I have times when I’m stubborn.” He turned his body to better see you, brushing your shoulder again in the process. “Now, I believe you have an entertaining tale to tell me.”

You frowned. What is he talking about? you wondered. It’s not like he would know about what happened in town today…

“Did you inquire about whether Villenueve was attacked?” He grinned, radiating that familiar cockiness you so loved.

Oh. That. You cleared your throat in an attempt to buy time. His grin grew wider, like he knew exactly what you were doing. And to be honest, he probably did. “I did,” you admitted, feeling your blush creep further up your cheeks.

“And?”

Is this what a bird in a cage feels like when a cat is watching it? “And…there was mention of a young man who rallied everyone against some invaders…”

“Did you happen to learn this dashing young lad’s name?” He took a bite of bread while he waited for your answer.

You muttered his name in as unintelligible a manner as you could.

“I’m sorry, what was that name again?”

You sighed, knowing the game was up and that he’d won. “Gaston,” you repeated louder.

Somehow, his grin grew more. “Again, please?” he purred, leaning in.

“Gaston!” you said, this time loud enough that he couldn’t feign deafness as a way of getting you to repeat it. Your cheeks were on fire, the warmth making its way down your neck as well.

He leaned back with that aggravatingly attractive smirk on his face. “I believe that earns me a story from you,” he said, crossing one leg over the other and folding his arms over his stomach.

“It’s not that interesting, I promise you.”

“Don’t care. I still want to hear it.” He rested his head against the wall, green eyes glittering with triumph.

You sighed again and turned to face him, setting the bowl down next to you. “Fine.” You leaned against your part of the wall. “I was sixteen, and we were attending mass. I stumbled against a loose stone and grabbed onto the nearest object to stable myself. Unfortunately, that object ended up being a candelabra, which is not stable in any way, and it fell over.” You felt the corners of your mouth curve up as you relieved the memory. “It caught a tablecloth on fire before one of the altar boys rushed over to stomp it out. I thought my papa was going to kill me when we got home.” Your eyes drifted to the stones in the wall across from you, though you could still clearly see Gaston out of your peripheral. “He wasn’t happy, but when Mama started laughing about it, he did, too, and I didn’t get in trouble.”

Gaston shifted, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She always brings out the laughter in him. I don’t know how she does it, but Mama just makes everyone smile. Papa is very serious most of the time, then she’ll say something absolutely ridiculous and he smiles and it’s wonderful.” Your eyes wandered to the floor. “She taught me to read, you know. Papa wasn’t overly fond of it, but he didn’t oppose it, which I suppose I should be grateful for. He did oppose me moving here by myself, but Mama managed to convince him that I would be fine.”

“You moved here shortly after Belle and Maurice did,” Gaston said, pulling you from your reverie.

You looked at him and nodded. “Yes.” Suddenly, you were curious. “And where did the great Gaston come from?”

He gave you an odd look. “Why, Villenueve, of course.”

You sensed some hesitation from him, but you decided to press on. “And your family?”

He didn’t respond right away, which made you wonder if you were being too nosy. Finally, he shrugged. “I never knew my mother—she died giving birth to me. As for my father…well…” You thought he wasn’t going to finish, but after another moment, he continued. “My father was a hunter.”

“Is he the one who taught you how to hunt?”

The corners of his mouth quirked into a half-smile. “Yes. He taught me everything I know.”

You thought back to all the times you’d heard someone compliment Gaston’s hunting prowess. “He must be a great hunter, then.”

Gaston sneered. “He was a great hunter. I’m better.”

From his tone, you got the sense that things between Gaston and his father had been tense. I wonder why. “‘Was’? Does that mean he’s dead?”

“He died while I was fighting in the War.”

“I’m sorry.”

He scoffed. “Don’t be. There was no love lost between us.”

You frowned, not sure how to react to that statement. Of course, you knew that not everyone has a happy relationship with their parents, but you’d never experienced it firsthand. You knew that your father loved you, and he wanted what he thought was best for you. The same went for Maurice—he and Belle were a close family, one you’d been fortunate to be allowed into. For someone to not experience that with either of their parents was disturbing.

“What?” Gaston asked, shifting and catching your attention.

You shook your head. “What?”

“You’re thinking, I can see it in your eyes.” His mouth twitched. “That’s a dangerous pastime, you know.”

The seriousness broken, you shook your head. “Oh, shut it.” But you were smiling again.

“Dare I ask what you were thinking about?”

You shrugged. “Just about how different families can be.” Suddenly, you remembered the letter from your parents. I almost forgot about that!

“Forgot about what?”

Did I say that out loud? Whoops. “I received a letter from my parents, but I never read it. I’ll read it later, I guess.”

“That’s…nice.” Gaston grabbed a clump of grapes from the tray and began to toss them into his mouth. This time he managed to catch every single one with ease.

You watched him toss three grapes and catch them before blurting, “I saw LeFou today.”

“Oh?” If you’d thought that would throw Gaston’s grape-catching abilities off, you’d been mistaken. “How is he?”

“Do you actually care or are you just asking because it’s what people expect?” You would rather not get into another argument about his treatment of his friend, but you had to know.

Gaston caught the next grape in his hand. “Why must you do that?” he asked, his voice a mixture of whiny and frustrated.

You felt your forehead furrow in confusion at his question. “Do what?”

He threw the grape from hand to hand. “Make it sound like I’m heartless and selfish.”

Maybe because you are heartless and selfish? You almost replied, but held your tongue.

“I’m not. You may think it, Belle may think it, hell, even LeFou may think it now, but I’m not.” He scowled, pausing in his grape-throwing. “I did what I had to do. Perhaps it wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about him.”

You pursed your lips. “You didn’t have to do it, though. Why didn’t you help him and then go after the Beast?”

His arm suddenly drew back to throw the grape. You flinched, half expecting him to throw it at you in anger. He didn’t, instead throwing it out the open door of his cell. “Why does it matter?” he growled the last word. “I did what I did! Why must we keep going around in circles talking about it?”

“Because I’m trying to get you to see how wrong you were!” you snapped back, your own temper flaring. “It doesn’t matter if you thought it was the right thing to do! You don’t seem to understand how it’s affected the people around you. LeFou was heartbroken over your betrayal! You killed the Prince, which hurt my friend! Not to mention you led a town in an attack against the people they love and care about who were cursed—nevermind that they’d forgotten about them and that they were random items at that point!” You leaned forward, staring him down, hoping desperately that maybe something you’d say would actually get through that thick skull of his. “You did it, and you did it for selfish reasons, and until you realize that, yes, I’m going to keep questioning your motives and calling you out on them.” His eyes, lit with fury, glared into yours. “So maybe you should actually take the time to think about the consequences of your actions instead of trying to justify them!”

His jaw clenched. He lifted one arm to indicate the cell. “Do you honestly think I haven’t thought about that, (Y/N)? I’m locked up—already damned for my actions. The Prince could have me executed at any time, something that I’m well aware of!”

His words were like ice to your heated emotions. Before they could cool you down completely, though, you yelled your reply: “But he won’t!”

Gaston scoffed. “And how do you know that?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because I asked him¸ you idiot!”

Silence fell upon both of you at your declaration. You crossed your arms, mirroring Gaston, allowing your anger to simmer off. You were still glaring at him, daring him to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat there, radiating his own anger.

As one minute passed, then two minutes, then five minutes passed in that tense silence, you felt yourself cooling down. He thought he was going to be killed any day. It hadn’t occurred to you to tell him that he wouldn’t be; once Adam had reassured you, you had let it vanish from your mind. Yet here Gaston had been for four days, each day wondering if you were bringing him his last meal. His flirtatious attitude had been a façade hiding his true fear.

So then why does he insist on acting like he doesn’t regret anything? Why does he keep up the narcissistic attitude?

Eventually, his jaw released and he exhaled deeply.

“I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me that you’d be worried about that.” On impulse, you reached forward and put a hand on his calf. You hoped it came across as reassuring. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes flicked to your hand and back to your face. You couldn’t read the emotions on his face; he kept it schooled. But then he sighed again, and you felt his entire body relax. “Why did you ask him in the first place?” he asked.

Because I didn’t want to watch you die again. “Because I wanted to know what would happen to you,” you admitted softly.

“Why?”

“Because, Gaston, I don’t think you deserve to die just because you made a few bad choices.” You released his calf and stood. He was watching you, a funny look on his face, but he didn’t seem like he had anything more to say. You brushed off your skirt. “LeFou is okay, by the way. I told him you were alive and that he could visit if he wanted, when he’s ready.” You began to make your way to the door. “He’s happy you’re alive.”

As you passed Gaston, his hand reached up to grab your wrist. He gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing it. Though he didn’t say anything, you felt as if he was trying to convey some sort of apology and thanks to you by that one touch.

You got to the door and closed it behind you. With a final look at the man in the cell, you added, “For the record, I’m happy you’re alive, too.”

“That makes three of us, I guess,” he muttered. You felt your mouth twitch.

“Good night, Gaston.”

“Good night, (Y/N).”

Next Chapter