#but I am still attempting to expand my horizons

[dare-to-dm]

Hi Dare,

I saw your recent posts about Baldur's Gate 3 (which I also love but I haven't had nearly the playtime in yet!). I have only dabbled in Baldur's Gate 2 though but frankly it is a very VERY different game. And at this point extraordinarily dated.

However, Larian's other big property: Divinity Original Sin and especially Divinity Original Sin 2 are much more in keeping with how BG3 flows both narratively and mechanically. The only issue is it's not a D&D world and it's not the story of Baldur's Gate you may be looking for. But I highly highly recommend trying the Divinity Original Sin games if you like BG3 and after you've given BG1-2 a chance (I look forward to hearing how you like them!)

I tried playing Divinity Original Sin once and had a strong visceral reaction of hatred, lol.

I played through the tutorial, which featured stilted combat and clunky UI. But the turning point for me came immediately when I got out of the first cave and found myself in front of some town guards. At which point my two characters got into an argument about what to do. One of my characters (the one I was currently controlling) wanted to go with the guardsmen to talk to the wizard.  The other wanted to kill the guardsmen for being kind of annoying. 

So mechanically what happened was that my two characters played Rock Paper Scissors and I fucking lost (to myself? technically?) so we ended up doing what the Other Character wanted and murdering the guys. 

Then the characters had a conversation and apparently decided that that was Pretty Fucked Up and Not Really Necessary.  Immediately following that dialogue, the words “+1 compassion” flashed over both character’s heads."  

Like, I got no time for an RPG that presents you with decisions and then doesn't even let you make them. And then acts like the decisions you didn't even choose had meaningful consequences in the most asinine way possible.

[todorokis-girl]

I Never Knew You Were Alive - Soulmate AU (II)

Touya x f!reader

I do apologize, I have a certain love for the mundane, and I like to expand on boring things before I get to the "meat" of the story. This one has nothing but mundane.

If anyone has any suggestions, I am open to hearing them. I have a rough plot, but like I said, I get side tracked with exploring random things, my pacing can be kind of slow. I do filler chapters when I feel like writing but I haven't finished the main chapter yet.

Also, if you want to get tagged in the next one, please let me know.

No actual dabi in this one

Chapter I: So it starts Chapter II: A late arrival Chapter III: belive of be doomed Chapter IV: What are we doing? Chapter V: Last minute encounter Chapter VI: Deciding to fall in love with you

masterlist

Previous chapter

Next chapter

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Chapter II: A late Arrival

As the sun rose over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, a new day dawned at The Hero Academy. Excitement buzzed through the corridors, echoing the eager chatter of students and the hushed whispers of anticipation, at what this new semester would bring them.

Amidst the throng of pupils eagerly making their way to class, one figure stood out—a newcomer, her footsteps quickened by nerves and determination. Unbeknownst to the students, she was already late, the weight of unfamiliar hallways slowing her progress as she navigated the maze of the school seemingly for the first time, even though she had been there before, as a student herself. With each passing minute, her heart raced, a slow, calming breath exhaled though her nostrils, the anxiety of tardiness threatening to overshadow the promise of a fresh start; and as she finally stepped through the classroom door, a momentary pause hung in the air, hinting at the unexpected journey that lay ahead. 

She was unlucky Aizawa had told her to simply step into the classroom the moment she arrived, he had start of the semester paperwork to get done, he could leave them alone for a couple of minutes to wait for her. New people scared her, and children made her anxious. Why did she think she could do this job again? Keigo had a point telling her to reject the job. 

She placed her things quickly behind the podium, and grabbed a piece of white chalk from a box of them that already lived there. She was gonna do the classic cliche of writing her name on the board; but what was she to do, she was anxious and still terrified to attempt to look at the students. Taking a second to adjust to the admosphre, and get their attention withought looking at them seemed the most apropriate. 

She hadn't meant to be late, she woke up this morning at the UA dorms like she was supposed to, with plenty of time to spare, she was even having a lovely talk with her new co-worker about how to approach the students of class 1A; but there had been a sudden emergency at the agency and Endeavor was already split with work. As talented and powerful as he is, he can't be in two opposing places at once; and she was still the second to call there. 

The coffee was sweet, with an adequate amount of creamer, it tasted... perfect nutty with a creamy texture "This is delicious," My eyes brighten intensely making direct eye contact with Aizawa, Sh was truly not expecting it to be so good "thank you for the coffee" I'm never going to a coffee shop again. 

He ignored her and started talking about his students, giving careful insight into the ones he considered harder to handle "Bakugou can be a little rough, he might sound aggressive, but he's truly just a dedicated person" She nodded signaling that she was listening, but never forgetting her coffee. 

As calming as the morning might seem from an outside perspective, she wasn't feeling calm at all, and she didn't know why. She woke up with waves of anxiety washing over her, and as the hours passed, anxiety turned to determination and slowly... a weird mixture between happiness, satisfaction and sadness. Where it al came from she didn't really know. What she did know is that she was thankful Eraserhead had taken time out of his morning to help her out not just with advice, but with company, allowing her to control the conflicting shift of emotions. Even if she didn’t really know where they came from. 

She was about to open her mouth, to ask a question about the best way to structure lessons for them, to add to the previous insight she was given, but she was stopped by the loud ring of her phone, the ringtone she had for any calls coming from the agency. 

She quickly picked up the phone, excusing herself from her co-worker "This better be important, Heatstroke" She took one sip of her coffee as she heard the intense response, "Endeavor is busy in a meeting with the commissioner, emergency fire at a building, too hot for any of us to walk into....it's the bluefire quirk" immediately putting the mug down (regretfully), she hung the phone and got ready to leave

Before she could she quickly turned to Aizawa, before leaving "I might be a little late... any chance you'll keep the students entertained until I get back?" A hopeful expression covering her face. 

"Just walk in, they won't burn the classroom down, or I'll make them suffer; a couple of minutes won't hurt" I laughed running out the door, his reply calmingly amusing and grateful my hero suit was my uniform. 

She took one final deep breath when her name was finally written on the board, time to turn around... 

She cleared her throat attempting to get the attention of the members of the class, not noticing that she already had it "Good morning students, sorry for the wait," she greeted them with her usual bright smile, hero work had it's perks outside of using your quirk freely; it provided professional level acting experience "I'm the temperature hero, Thermiforst, and I will be your teacher for the new class 'Alternative Strategies' it's a pleasure to meet you all" 

.......

"You did good, the students seem to like you" She looked up from her paperwork to make eye contact with Aizawa, making her relax just a little bit. She had been overthinking all day about the impression she had made of the students of both class A and B. 

"Thank you, it was all thanks to you really, "controlled curiosity"? Was not expecting that to work" He sat down a cup of lavender tea (the smell was quickly feeling her nostrils, she didn't even need to get close to the cup to identify the type) next to the paperwork she was working on, following it up with a plump and juicy looking peach. She smiled and looked up at him carefully, with a soft smile, she felt so welcomed "Thank you". He simply waved her off over his shoulders as he walked away to his own desk. 

Going back to your old school always sounds like such a lame thing to do. Sort of like reminding yourself of all the times graduated students would come back to the school to visit to seem cool, and it just ended up seeming stupid; it's different when you're coming back to teach, but it still gives a bad feeling at first. 

Also, the whole thing with Hawks the week before had undeniably rattled her, at first she was just mad that he was implying that she couldn't take care of herself as well as the students, but now, with fresh eyes and a new perspective of the situation... she was just worried. Hawks was over protective of her, so was everyone else around her, but this was unusual, he'd never question her heroism, or her ability to take care of herself. He knew more than he was saying, and if she knew anything about Keigo and his background, the hero comission was one-thousand percent behind all of this, and that scared her; it appeared he was in a lot more danger than she could possibly be. 

The league of villains. She could see how the comission could care about them, currently they are a danger to not just society but the hero community, and there was no chance, the hero comission was simply going to let that go... 

Kaigo... what the hell did you get yourself into... 

Her thoughts running so high she once again started to feel a slight bothersome in her soulmate mark, it always demanded attention when she seemed to be running high on emotions. She always thought, it was simply her body asking for her soulmate for comfort, but she didn't have the ability to do that; and she hated the constant reminder. 

ding 

She got snapped out of her thoughts and her eyes went to her phone freshly lit up screen. A fresh message from Keigo. Speak of the devil.

'How was the first day with the brats?' She looked over at the time realizing that she was due to clock out, and started packing up her things before she took the time to answer the message. Quietly thanking him for reminding her she did't have to sit there indefinitely. 

She placed the straps over her shoulder, the weight of the one strap she used causing her to lean slightly to the side. She took the clip off and dropped it on her desk, if she forgot to take it off, she would have nothing to hold her hair up with it. 

She finally took her phone to finally reply to her messages; as she did she remembered the blue flames from earlier in the morning, and how for some reason they had caused a sense of familiarity and a deep longing. 

She was used to walking on fires, and extremely cold temperatures; nothing to worry about. What she was worried about what the fire felt like, on her skin, it felt like she could stand there for hours and feel at peace. She felt comfort. She'd have to look into it later. 

'It was really fun, don't call them brats, they're really sweet kids' 

'yeah yeah, whatever. I'll see you this weekend for coffee as usual, right?' 

'of course loser, stay alive till then, ok?' 

'Sure, See you Tomorrow at the usual place" 

'see you tomorrow’ 

Weeks later

In the hushed confines of the darkened living room, a rhythmic tapping sound reverberated as the back of laptop was lifted the back of her laptop, her fingers clutching the sleek device with a hint of tension. Her gaze remained fixed, unwavering, on the solitary blue radiance emanating from the unassuming coffee machine stationed on the kitchen counter. Yet, amidst the ambient glow, her vision faltered, blurred by the shimmer of tears that veiled her eyes, from her perspective, casting twin reflections of the light. As they spilled over, tracing a silent journey down her cheek, the world seemed to blur into a poignant symphony of emotion. 

She had a feeling that something was off, her soulmate's name on the inside of her arm burned, it burned so much it made her resolve falter. She went into the blue flames enveloping the building, with the intention of finding survivors, she was the only one who could walk into them; and Endeavor had been in the middle of a reunion with the commissioner when everything started.

The feeling of the fire on her skin felt... calming, almost comforting, and it shook her to her core but she ignored it and pushed herself to walk to save people. Through out the entire event, the more she stood in the flame, the more her soulmate mark screamed. Once the job was done, and the reports are written she gave herself the time to look over the person behind the fire. 

Dabi, member of the League of Villains, quirk? Bluefire. Similar to Endeavor's.. but hotter, much hotter, so much hotter it seems, that it slowly burns away his own body from the inside out. No one knows where he came from, who he is or even what his name is; all we know is that he's... Dabi. 

The current knowledge was making her overthink, what she was thinking was insane, absolutely fucking crazy. yet, if it was true... it wouldn't be hard to believe. Sure, Endeavor helped her out, basically raised her and allowed her to use the family name after her own parents ditched her... but she wasn't delusional. Enji Todoroki wasn't a saint, and she knew it. The state of the family was definitely a tall tell sign of that. 

You're crazy, years without a soulmate has made you delusional. 

But, the feelings, the soulmate marks, the quirk similarities with Endeavor, the seeming obsession with Shouto and Endeavor.... 

She had to find him, he was out there and she had to find him. She was going to ask him, and she'd let him go, just this once... for his troubles, just in case she was wrong. She needed to tell him, even if she had no response from him. Because if she was right, he already knew who she was, and that killed her. 

She quickly snapped herself out of her trance, and looked around the even darker room, random scattered lights all around from multiple appliances; she took a deep breath to snap herself out of the heartbreak she had caused herself and opened her laptop again; quickly accessing Endeavors agency database and into her profile, placing a pin on the villain and setting notifications to be sent to her phone. 

With the process over, she looked around her inmediate area, attempting to find her phone. She hadn't had any confirmation in the next few weeks, but she was sure of who could give her the information she wanted, and he was going to help her. 

She scrolled through her phone's contacts looking for his name, once she spotted it, she quickly proceeded to click on his name and placing the phone in her ear. 

Ring 

Ring 

Ri- 

"Hey Birdie, it's kind of late for a call, you ok?" His voice was gentle, you could hear the clear worry. 

She looked up to the clearly visible time in her microwave '3:00 am', she swallowed guiltily, she hadn't even noticed; but she wasn't gonna wait anymore. 

"Hey Keigo, I need something from you" 

[goodluckclove]

Finding Banned Books Online: Actual Resources

Hey, it's me - a version of Clove who is now able to access their anger through means I am not going to delve into on a public space. Hello!

I have continued to get myself very upset over the people who tear apart anyone who makes the vaguest attempt to support, or even provide mixed opinions on the IA lending library. They insist there are so many ways to do this already through resources provided by libraries, but don't actually say any of those solutions.

Because Google is free, right? It's free and definitely still a viable way to easily access information. We all agree Google is normal and reliable, and that people these days actually know how to manipulate search terms in a way that effectively provides information. That's why it's such a great thing to say when people ask questions instead of actually providing information that could easily solve the problem in your favor. Great!

Anyways, I went ahead and did research so I can offer an actual guide to people looking to access - in this case specifically banned books - without the aid of piracy or the Internet Archive. These are programs created by libraries, fully legal, though admittedly not always the easiest to access.

The Palace Project: Banned Books Club

This seems to be the best option I was able to find. It's an app created by the Digital Public Library of America where you can access a variety of digital library archives, including the Banned Books Club. You don't need address or proof of ID - you don't even need your legal name.

You get a digital barcode you can use to access books for about 20 days at a time. They have a vast collection of e-books and audiobooks, as well as a bevy of fiction and nonfiction. Cool!

Brooklyn Public Library: Books UnBanned

If you're a young person in the United States who has their apps monitored, this is another alternative. The Brooklyn Public Library waives out-of-state e-card fees for youth that last a year (You might be able to reapply).

They cover you from 13-21, assuming you can work up the nerve to apply directly by emailing them, or messaging them on their youth-led Instagram account (@bklynfuture).

The Uncensored Library

Are you outside the United States? Do you have a computer that runs Minecraft? This is not technically a way to read Ulysses or The Hate You Give, but The Uncensored Library is a massive world seed dedicated to preserving (I think mainly) journalistic articles covering news in countries where censorship is way more prominent. This is an outlier to my point but it kicks ass and I think it has a place on this list.

There are other options out there like Hoopla, but it looks like a lot of them require an existing library card number. Libby has a nice UI thing that guides you towards the options in making an online library card for a local branch, assuming that's something you are able to do.

This is what I was able to find through about 45 minutes of searching. If someone else has an additional insight I would LOVE to add it. Libraries are working so, so hard to provide as much of a reach as they can, but unfortunately it's difficult to spread awareness without Spreading Awareness, if you know what I mean.

At the same time, if you're a person who is just spouting that these resources exist without either naming what they are and/or acknowledging that there are a small small small handful of options - it definitely seems like you're less interested in sharing information to encourage a positive change, and more invested in looking right and informed.

I spent almost an hour to find two actual sources to share. If I wanted to read a book I didn't have access to, it would be infinitely easier to give up. It is so fucking easy not to make the effort to read a book that could potentially change your life. It's so fucking easy just to not read! So hopefully this helps someone expand their horizons in a meaningful way, or just have better access to a library system that they might not otherwise have!

[yunessa]

To say that Mendev was defined by its conflict with the Worldwound is accurate, but a simple explanation. Look at the countries that surrounded it. Each one eyeing their border as the Worldwound expanded. Calling it a disease or a cancer would be accurate- after extensive conversations with my companions, I can say that it’s one of the greatest threats to life on Golarion today.

Not a threat to Chelix, for example, not today or even next year. But the expansion of the worldwound is only slowed by the numerous lives that come to fight it and until this crusade started, the Ward stones that lined its border. What happens when the lives of the brave, the adventurous and the expendable start to slow down? If there was no crusade and the Ward stones failed- or were corrupted to increase the speed of the Worldwound’s growth?

Then Cheliax might very well be squinting at it’s borders next year as demons lurk on the horizon. But you could say that for any nation that is not currently bordering the Worldwound.

Every nation occupied by civilised minds hates the Worldwound. For it tries to grow, constantly pushing its boundaries. It cares little for what country it borders, only that it grows.

According to Daeran and Nurah- both knowledgable about the world stage-, Numeria and Ustalav are not actively battling the Worldwound. The realm of the Mammoth Lords fights, but to what extent I have no idea. I assume they do 

So it is Mendev who is the Worldwound’s most vehement opponent.  But if I am to retake the hold of Drezen I will need to look outward for support. Mendev has very little to its name after a century of war. Much of its support comes from the rest of the world.

People without knowledge of economics and the worldwound might not believe it, but a century of war does not leave you with much of anything to your name. Support comes from lands as far away as Cheliax and Andoran, to name two of the bigger ones. Nobody wants to be the nation with the Worldwound on their doorstep with citizens that only know of the war that has been going on since their grandparents were alive.

If I am to retake Drezen then I must handle more than just politics among the crusaders. Even now I have soldiers from Andoran, three elves from Kyonin, a tiefling that claims to have travelled from far-away Kelesh to fight the Worldwound. I have had Seelah go about the camp- she’s friendly, cheerful, and people love to speak with her- to find out other places I could reach out for aide.  We have a list already, but Seelah is good at talking to people. Adding in Woljif's connections and I'm sure we can get a good network.

How supplies will get here is another matter. Daeran tried to explain to me, but I’ve never seen such math before in my life, ‘nor have I seen it applied to wagons, teleportation, or the specifics needed for a teleportation network. How he understands this maths is beyond me. I’ve never applied such numbers and lines to my magic.

Daeran tried to explain imaginary numbers to me as he showed me the supply plans. I’m certain he was actively attempting to torment me rather than alleviate my disbelief. Numbers can’t be imaginary can they? If numbers were imaginary then how would anything get done? I found a new thing to fear.

I have written this all down in a list of things I should not forget. The many potential supplies, tasks, and other things now make a list fifty pages long- and as of right now still growing as  I spend my evening time speaking to my quartermaster. I suspect once we retake Drezen, even Horgus Gwerm and Wilcer Garms will have headaches managing everything that will be needed.

-Yunessa

[guardiangeologist]

Luigi's Uncharacteristically Large and also maybe Haunted House (3DS Edition): A Highly Professional Review

The entire time I've had this blog, I haven't really been sure what to use it for. I've settled on spewing my unscripted thoughts on whatever Game of the Week I've played most recently because, quite frankly, where else are they gonna go? I love my girlfriend, but these words are destined for a wider platform. I must expand my horizons. So here I am, talking about cartoon ghosts and green vacuum-wielding Italian men on the internet.

Now, let me tell you, this green man and his stupid house have been in control of my entire brain like some fucked up Italian Ratatouille for at least 10 years. I was a Luigi's Mansion Kid. What do I mean by that? I mean I roleplayed Luigi's Mansion on the school playground when I was in the 3rd grade. With the other Luigi's Mansion Kids. So it's safe to say I have some experience when it comes to this game. At times, he goes dormant. He waits patiently for another hyperfixation to pass. However, just when I least expect it, he returns from the grave (almost like a ghost?) to stage a military occupation of my frontal lobe to last the next few months.

So, there's my history. I ended up finally picking up the 3DS version of this game just before the eShop shut down (rest in piss) for shits and giggles, and only just got around to playing it this week while laying in bed with a migraine. (maybe not the smartest decision?) I mean, to start with, why was this game released for the 3DS? It came out in October 2018, at which point we were already an entire year post-Switch. I mean, I guess it would be fine, but it's just so obvious that being on the 3DS holds this game back in so many different areas (which I will get to, be patient!) and it's seriously a tragedy it hasn't been ported to Switch yet. Why put together such an amazing remake, and then bottleneck it with lackluster hardware and release it on a nearly out of service console?

In terms of positive changes? LOADS of QoL stuff. I might even go as far as to call this the definitive version of the game in spite of the few drawbacks it does present. Some examples include:

Re-fighting portrait ghosts: NO MORE RESETS!!! (Ok still some resets for speedy spirits because there's no way in hell I'm staying in the blackout for longer than I have to but that's just part of The Experience)

You can go back to the Lab from the Mansion by exiting through the front door. Finally, Luigi has learned how to open doors!

The tougher post-game Hidden Mansion, originally exclusive to the PAL version, has finally been made available to us worthless money-grubbing Americans! (Minus the disorienting flipped rooms, which I found pretty disappointing but some people will probably celebrate.) You can even get platinum ghost portraits from the Hidden Mansion which I have yet to obtain all of because jesus christ it is not easy to defeat a ghost with 150 health in a single attempt.

And now, the ghostly elephant in the room: co-op. I did try it, with my little brother as my Gooigi guinea pig. It's...I mean...honestly, it's not great. If you want to play LM1 with a friend, I can honestly recommend a ROM hack of the GameCube original more than I can recommend Nintendo's official multiplayer, which is pretty lame. For one, nothing is scaled up difficulty-wise to account for the extra player, so most battles in the game become trivial with the addition of a second experienced player (not my little brother.) But secondly, and most importantly:

the LAG.

DEAR GOD THE LAG.

I can testify that our internet is fine. The internet is not the issue, and even if it were, it shouldn't take any more bandwidth to play this game than it takes for two 3DS systems that are within 3 feet of each other and 10 feet from a router to communicate with each other. Yet, the game did not once run at full speed on either screen the entire time we played. Additionally, my brother complained several times that he couldn't even move his character. Luigi's Mansion with two players SHOULD be a chaotic mess, but adding the piddly framerate on top of it makes the game nearly unplayable.

That being said, the co-op is a disappointment, but it was never necessary for the game to be a satisfying package overall, it's better than having nothing. Though, as is typical, the work of fans definitely triumphs over Nintendo's official product in this department.

Oh, and they still didn't fix the oversight which causes you to lose the second gold diamond if you die after collecting it because the game prompts you to save while it's still on the ground... No A-Rank for me, I guess.

Mm, yes, the controls, yeah, those exist. This is one of those spots where I feel this game could have easily benefitted from just being developed for the Switch. Instead of forcing a dual-stick game onto a dying handheld with a single circle pad, maybe we could've, like, released it for the dual-stick console/handheld that was already out and had a perfectly established user base? They tried to substitute the c-stick with the gray alien nipple- or uhh..."circle pad pro"...that comes pre-installed on the New Nintendo 3DS, but it does not work well. The nub just isn't responsive enough to substitute for an entire stick, and if you want it to be a real circle pad, you have to buy an external attachment. Not to mention the nub isn't even available on every 3DS model! So like, yeah, I understand they made an honest attempt to work around the controller issues, but a better workaround would've been to just...not curse this game to irrelevancy by trapping it on a dying console.

All of that said, I spent all week playing this game, so they did something right. Curse my brain worms.

11/10 will buy this game and its sequels again every time Nintendo re-releases them.

[tgrailwar-zero]

THGW-Zero, Chapter 4 - Battle Against the Beast

With a sudden attack, and a surge of power from his Masters, CONSTANTINE attacked. His blade carving into the back of the Beast, as she let out a pained screech as he echoed with an angered growl.

CONSTANTINE: "Die, Beast!"

His blade dug deeper into her back, her weakened form unable to react in time. DRACO snarled.

DRACO: "Gh…! You blackguards! I was a fool to place my trust in you again! Superbia! Destroy them!"

The Beast roared, enraged by this sudden betrayal, her draconic tail lashing out and striking RIDER, pushing him back. The mighty form of ALTER-EGO began to move, as KUKULKAN began to slowly gather up energy as the assault began.

With a grin, PRETENDER stepped next to MUSASHI, chuckling.

PRETENDER: "Oho, now things are getting interesting! Let's give Invader some space and fend off the giant, shall we?" MUSASHI: "Right! Okay, everyone! Let's hold back Alter-Ego!"

CONSTANTINE: "...Thank you for your support, Masters! Now, let us enact our justice!"

You could sense CONSTANTINE's gratitude, though it was briefly overshadowed by the murderous intent emanating from DRACO and ALTER-EGO.

ALTER-EGO: "Oh, I was just waiting for you all to screw up. Come here so I can squish you like the bugs you are!"

As best as they could, CONSTANTINE, PRETENDER and MUSASHI began holding back ALTER-EGO, in an attempt to block her from interrupting the Noble Phantasm of INVADER.

KUKULKAN had proclaimed herself to be a god before- and while powerful, she had used her Authority sparingly.

Powerful, yet restrained.

She would rush into battle like a missile, smiling all the while. However, her might was much, much greater.

And now, her shackles were undone with the command to use her Noble Phantasm.

She began to glow with a vibrant light, that slowly expanded until her form was no longer visible- the only thing remaining being a gigantic, blinding pillar of light that shot up into the stratosphere.

The might of an Anti-World Noble Phantasm. One that- if even for a moment- redefined the rules of reality... and therefore the 'laws' that held the Solar Cell together.

This pillar of light was as clear as day- not just to the people within the city, but to anyone who lived within the Solar Cell. The Nameless City was a central metropolis, and therefore anyone looking to the horizon towards the city would see this miracle take place, and while only those who lived within the confines of the city could hear the words spoken by the solar titan that was being formed by the pillar, that echoed enough to cause buildings to shake and clouds to split.

KUKULKAN: "I hail from the empty sky! Building up the earth… looking down from the heavens…"

The form of a woman- of KUKULKAN- slowly became visible within the blinding light as the world contorted and strained to even fit her presence.

KUKULKAN: "Meaning-- I am the Sun!"

The declaration reverberated throughout the Nameless City- as if time itself stilled. Such a declaration was one of authority over the Solar Cell- worthiness of overseeing the life that resided there.

Staring up at the Sun, with rage in her eyes, DRACO shot upwards.

DRACO: "My dragons! To me!"

In a moment, the four draconic heads that had once terrorized other parts of the city left their posts and sprouted up towards the towering god, jaws snapping and teeth gnashing as they attempted to seize a counterattack, or at the very least a final defense.

A shadow shot into the air, a calm voice filling the night sky.

MUSASHI: "…Hayagrīva… use my rage to sever all evil…"

In a flash, with four strokes of her sword, four dragon heads collapsed. One to a raging torrent of water, another to a crash of earthen steel, one more to a gust of razor winds, and a final to a gut of violent flame. The look in the swordmasters eyes was cold, focused on the moment at hand, as her technique was far from over.

MUSASHI: "This sword is my path to the void, my very life! Ishana, Daitenshou!"

The swordmaster drew her sword once more, the ringing sound of metal carving through the air.

The final stroke, a moment of perfected swordplay, sliced through the body of the larval Beast with perfect accuracy, a cascade of blood filling the night sky as the samurai cleaved an opening for the massive sun-god to strike.

The hand of the burning deity began to crash downward- seemingly slow at first, before the illusion of distance broke and the strike was revealed to be moving at a breakneck pace.

KUKULKAN: "--Kinich Ahau Impact!"

In a moment of stringent beauty, the great sun god made contact with the Beast, a wave of light rocketing outward and painting the sky of the Solar Cell into that of a bright sunny day, if only for a moment. For a moment, night was gone and replaced only by the overwhelming might of the Sun.

The declared name of 'Kinich Ahau' within the Noble Phantasm only served to establish the legitimacy of what everyone was witnessing.

And therefore- all of the Servants that had struggled against the heads of the Beast could only watch in quiet awe.

The Beast, her body thoroughly destroyed, only had a moment to herself as she burned up in the undeniable presence of the Sun.

As the daylight faded, the Beast stared hopelessly into the night sky.

DRACO: "…Ah, right… this is how it should be… the Beast of the Apocalypse falls down to the earth… and the Emperor dies alone… but..."

DRACO: "...I'm sorry, my Master... I... couldn't..."

Like sand swept away by the sea, the Beast of the Apocalypse, DRACO, disappeared from the Solar Cell.

With exhaustion, the massive shining god also faded, as KUKULKAN returned to the ground- her body swiftly caught by CONSTANTINE in gentlemanly fashion.

Her 'Master' gone, ALTER-EGO stumbled backwards, crashing into the wall with blank, dazed eyes.

There was a long moment of silence, before…

Sound.

A noise, like a rushing wave filled the air and swirled into the catacombs where your Servants stood.

The sound of applause. Praise. Cheers. Relief, that the city and the Solar Cell had been saved. Amazement at the shining, towering god that had manifested itself in such a central spot of this city.

The denizens of the Solar Cell exclaiming with true, uproarious gratitude.

The warmth that came with it, a grand feeling of heroism that washed over your Servants as they found themselves worn from this short, intense bout. Drained of magical energy, but otherwise still standing proudly as the remnants of the Beast disappeared.

You felt the Crimson Blade you once held go cold and inert, the flames sparking out.

In the midst of the cheers, MUSASHI finally landed down on the ground, holding out two objects.

MUSASHI: "…And here our spoils of our victory. You wanted this severed, right?"

It seems you acquired some new items... but lost the Crimson Blade.

KUKULKAN: "Ah- are the people of the city cheering for us? I'm a little embarrassed, but that means we won, yes?"

You saw CONSTANTINE step out, relieved. His armor was a bit bruised and dented- the one attack DRACO landing apparently quite the hefty one as he leaned against some of the rubble in the now-fading theatre.

CONSTANTINE: "The Beast is felled… thank goodness. but, what of Alter-Ego? What will happen to her?"

Stepping over to the dazed ALTER-EGO, PRETENDER patted her on the leg.

PRETENDER: "She's a big girl. I'll take her back to MoonCancer- see if we can't set her back to normal. MoonCancer's a smart lady, if anyone can fix Alter-Ego, it's her."

KUKULKAN: "Ay, she took a direct hit from my Noble Phantasm, and she's mostly just singed… it seems like the Blue Faction has a really scary Servant, doesn't it?"

A few sparse laughs shared between the group, before MUSASHI perked up, pointing her swords towards the entrance.

MUSASHI: "We're not alone- heads up."

As if suddenly having apparated within the space- the PRIEST that you encountered during your latest conversation with that 'NARRATING VOICE'- the one that had sealed your ability to acquire items from shops.

You hadn't noticed his arrival. If he had ill intent, he probably could have easily assassinated CONSTANTINE or KUKULKAN. Luckily, it didn't seem as if he held any ill intent- or if he did, he wasn't acting on it currently.

PRIEST: "I apologize for startling you. As one of the War Monitors, I was meaning to congratulate you on a job well-done once you finished your conversation. And I did have an agreement with your Masters… but please, do not rush on my account."

The PRIEST smiled.

PRIEST: "Frankly, it seems as if you've been quite busy indeed. A display like that certainly takes a lot of magical energy. Perhaps you and your Servants should take a well-deserved rest before making any further moves."

-

[ Lucius Origin obtained.] [ Asclepius Origin obtained.] [ Crimson Blade lost! ]

[fictiouschambers]

This is my first ever attempt at fan fiction so please be kind but also I am open to constructive criticism. It is not complete but I intend to complete it soon. Please let me know if this interests you at all or if you have any ideas for how things should move forward 😁 till then I hope you enjoy!

Zoro x afab reader. SFW (for now)

————————————————————-

You don’t know when it started. That tightness in your chest when he walks by or glances your way. But it’s undeniable now. Maybe it started the day you joined the crew, a memory backdropped with the sound of cannon fire and the vague smell of blood.

I mean, he did save you after all, and that type of heroism tends to stick with people...right? But it feels like more than just gratitude and admiration. You can hear your pulse in your ears when you spar with the swordsman and it’s not from physical exertion.

The feeling scares you so much that you’ve been finding excuses to skip training sessions.

you find yourself reading alongside Robin frequently, mostly in silence but with the occasional lighthearted laugh when someone on the crew (usually Luffy) does something goofy, or a kind “Thank you” when Sanji brings refreshments and sweets.

This gives you time to think and attempt to calm the butterflies that have nested in the depths of your insides…. But also, an all too good vantage point of Zoro’s seemingly never-ending workouts.

Does he have to train right THERE? You swear he is doing it on purpose! No shirt to hide the sweat as it trails down his concentrated face and muscular form. You force yourself to focus on the book in your lap, sneaking the occasional glance hoping no one notices.

Well, it’s not on purpose you rationalize with yourself. Although he has been noticeably distant the last few weeks (around the same time you started “expanding your horizons” and “exploring other forms of training” as you told him). The proximity was clouding your brain and you can’t afford to get too distracted in the Grand Line.

Was training the only connection we had? Were the late-night drinks and conversations under the stars part of the Zoro training Regime? He even seems to be sitting further during meals…READ THE BOOK DAMMIT FOCUS.

“Maybe I’m looking too far into it….” You accidentally mumble out loud granting a curious glance from Robin who didn’t press further. You hope she assumed it was about the novel in your hands rather than your inner ramblings about a certain green-haired man in view.

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

It’s another calm day on the thousand Sunny. Just enough clouds to break up the brutality of the sun but still allow for its warmth to caress your skin. Everyone is outside enjoying the weather in their own ways. Nami is sunbathing with Robin on the deck, Luffy and Usopp are fishing and filling the air with the sound of laughter. Chopper is playfully fighting with Zoro, a scene you find myself watching with a smile. The smell of a fresh meal coming from the open door of the kitchen where Sanji prepares dinner and is peacefully whistling to himself. Franky is up in the crow’s nest repairing something you didn’t quite catch what for if you’re honest.

You make a mental note to show more interest in the kind shipwright’s work later.

The sun slowly begins to set, and everyone gathers around for dinner. Sanji absolutely outdoing himself as always with a feast fit for kings.

Zoro and you are the last in and sit across from each other in the last free seats, you can instantly feel your heart in your throat. You reach for the last spring roll at the same time as Luffy, his stretchy arms would have beat you to it if Zoro didn’t smack his hand away with an almost comedic thud and a pout from the culprit.

“Oi! Don’t be selfish you already ate half the food!” the green haired man shouts across the table before turning back to the meal in front of him, seemingly unaware that such a small act in your defense has left you flushed. you do the same, looking down at the plate to hide the pink in your cheeks.

Unknown to you, the swordsman did notice the blush across your cheeks. Although unaware of its true cause he can’t help but save the image in his head. Whatever the reason for it, he thought it looked good on you and wondered, first, about how to see it more and then, about why you’ve been avoiding him. Did he smell? Was he pushing you too hard during training? Is that why you’ve traded your time with him to spend it lounging? He suddenly felt guilty, like he had hurt you and was too stupid to remember how.

He gets up from the rowdy table, grabs a bottle of sake, and silently disappears.

You watch the doorway he vanished from for a little too long before shaking your head to try and rid yourself of the nonsensical thoughts and returning your attention to the rest of the crew who are now playfully arguing over who has eaten the worst things. Luffy is talking about some cherry pie (a mystery to you of how Luffy could not like any food) and Usopp is claiming to have eaten a rotten melon the size of a small house.

At some point you find yourself quietly leaving and wandering the deck. The cool night air is a much-needed relief on your hot skin. Being so close to everyone while also laughing and yelling over each other has left you more than a little flushed.

Zoro heard you coming up the ladder before he saw you reach the top. He was sitting with his back against the wall enjoying the stars and sake, lost in his own thoughts about a certain “new” crew member.

“Drink?” he asks offering you the bottle of sake as you situate yourself next to him…but not too close.

“Thanks, you alright?” you try and ask as casually as possible while taking a large swig of grog.

“Yeah.” His response is short, simple, and very mildly slurred.

He’s drunk! Not sure why you are surprised, you help yourself to another big drink before handing it back.

The mild pink hue on his cheeks confirms his current state.

“I hurt you?” he asks suddenly, catching you severely off guard and very confused.

“Hurt me?”

“Wont train with me anymore n thought I might of hurt ya or sum” sake slurs his words as they come out as almost a mumble.

Is he pouting????

You take the bottle back deciding he doesn’t need it anymore but that you might. After a few gulps, that you hope he doesn’t think anything of, you respond.

“No, you’ve never hurt me. At least no more than the training demands” you chuckle a bit trying to lighten the seemingly heavy mood and take another sip.

“good” followed by some more silence.

He stands, looking down on you with his good eye and offers a small smile. “You know where to find me if you decide to stop being a big baby and fight me again, I’m still undefeated” a drunken smirk that sends fire through your body and settles between your legs, makes its way across his face before he disappears down the ladder for the night.

To be continued…..?

[kaythetrashcan]

A second perspective of my fanfic "Fatherly hug". I thought it would be fun to write smt like this.

Here's the original post:

A man and a monster

William was sitting in his car, nervously tapping on the steering wheel. 'It will be over soon. And I can continue my experiments in peace.' He took a deep breath, turned of the engine and got out. Attempting to forget the several nights where his animatronics almost bit his arm off, he looked around.

He found himself in front of a small suburban house. The garden was tiny but well kept. Building had a pleasant lavender shade and the door had several flowers handpainted on them. 'He's getting too close. How can I know what he'll do? I need to get rid of him.'

William took another deep breath. 'He's a monster anyways. H-he deserves this,' he tried to convince himself.

He put on a smile, straightened his back and rang the bell. "Coming!" the resident of the house shouted. William waited for a bit before the door opened.

"Father?" said the young man at the door.

"Hello Michael." He smiled.

William continued to smilen despite memories flooding his head. Memories he wished didn't exist. 'He's a monster, he's a monster, he's a monster...' he repeated to himself. 'Let's just concentrate on the task at hand.'

"I heard you got your degree. Congratulations!" William explained. "Um... Thanks?"

He continued: "You must be looking for a job then?"

"Yes, I am." Mike replied.

"Well, do I have a an opportunity for you."

"What?"

"We're looking for technician for the evening shift. You'd be perfect," he lied. Michael never took interest in anything mechanical, preferring to draw from a very early age. A simple crayon drawing of Fredbear and Bonnie popped into William's head.

Michael didn't answer for a while.

"Not sure?" he prompted the young man..

"I'm still thinking it over. I doubt it's a job for me."

'Damn it,' William cursed. 'I guess I'll have to try a little harder.'

"Don't worry, you don't need any experience," he added. "It's really simple. And a great opportunity to expand your horizons." William laughed a bit to seem more genuine.

Mike still didn't look swayed. 'I guess it a time for my trump card.'

"And if that won't convince you, maybe your sister will."

"Abby? But she's been miss-"

"She's there. I can't help her but you can," William said quietly.

Even if it wasn't the truth, he knew Michael would do anything for his little sister. He remembered Mike teaching her to walk and laughing when she toddled to him, hugging her every time. He remembered his still face, covered in sparkly pink make-up, as Elizabeth tried to make him look "pretty". He remembered the desperate letters and calls, begging him to see his sister, to somehow make up for his actions.

And his plan worked, he could see it in his face. "I accept. I'll do anything to help her."

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me," William smiled, ignoring the sudden pain in his gut. "Please just fill out these documents and deliver them to me tommorow. Your shift will start on Monday." "Alright," Mike agreed, mindlessly taking the papers out of his hands.

Now was time for the final step of his plan. 'Just to convince him further.'

"And Michael?"

"Yes, father?"

He pulled Mike into a hug. "I love you, Michael," he added to be even more believable.

'I haven't hugged my children since...' he got lost in thought. Mike took a bit to react, before wrapping his arms tightly around him, squeezing his chest. William stiffened as his son replied.

"I love you too, dad."

[sonderwrit]

C95: You knew after opening your eyes

I Have to Be a Great Villain - Masterpost

The daily trials of a slime's one-sided crush.

Daily Missions for He Came from Horizon's Edge

[1. Go crazy at the male lead.]

WY: Aha~ Beautiful!**this part originally written in English

WY: Scrape off all the scales, turn the eyeballs into specimens, and the bones and organs too—

[2. Go crazy at the female lead.]

WY: SO WHERE'S MY MERMAID FLESH?

Xiao Yu: I, I'm doing my best.

[3. Go crazy at everyone else.]

WY: THERE'S NO POINT TO CONSERVATIVE RESEARCH! SCIENCE NEEDS TO ADVANCE! THE WORLD NEEDS TO ADVANCE!

WY: I WANT THAT MERMAID!

[Along with #4—]

*All-Protective Suit*

Researching experimental subjects

WY: Heheh~ I'd like to see you try anything now.

As for X…

X: Like. I like my human.

X: Even though—he wants to cut apart this body.. …

X: I still like him.

WY: (I wonder if it'll eat the scalpel.)

X: As long as it makes him happy.

X: !?

X: It hurts.

X—a nickname for the humans for this organism that can heal endlessly.

X: It hurts so much…

But actually, I don't have a name at all.

I was only a particle floating in endless darkness.

When did I become sentient?

As if I was impelled by something…

I knew the first second after opening my eyes—

I wanted, to get close to a certain human.

But humans all look the same on the outside, and I still couldn't find them by the time I was captured here.

X: This transparent wall is too big for me to consume…..I can't get out.

Luckily, it was you who took me away in the end.

Luckily, you were the person I was looking for.

[Note: In X's eyes, humans all look similar; it needs to verify identity through the soul.]

X: —it's so painful!

*CUT*

X: The human is so rough.

X: … …

X: If I didn't like you, I would've eaten you last night. Not sit nicely in a box and wait to be tormented.

WY: Huh?

WY: The inside is identical to the outside.

X: But because he's my human…it's fine.

WY: There's nothing like a nucleus or core (heart) found in normal organisms.

X: That's right, X has no heart.

X: I shouldn't feel things like "affection," which is a human emotion.

X: But why am I still so…obsessed with you?

WY: Uwah—it's a little gross.

X: Hurts to death…

X: I like him so much… …can't he sense anything?

S-0: Host you seem to be…overdoing it. (It's all broken to pieces)

X: … .. … …

WY: ? It's not that excessive right?

WY: Did I complete the missions? *wipe wipe*

S-0: It's done, it's done.

S-0: Dr. Wang's reputation is almost on par with the lunatic in Kichiku Megane now*  _(:3」∠*)_ *I looked up the Chinese 鬼畜眼镜 and yes they are literally referencing this yaoi visual novel. Help.

S-0: (He's pretty callous towards non-human species.)

WY: That's fine, then. I'll clean up the lab station before getting off work, you can go slack off* too, it's fine. *The Chinese he uses for "slack off" here literally reads "touch fish" lol

S-0: Okies.

S-0: Recently I found another cute kitty, so I'll go play with them~

WY: …. 

WY: (He hasn't learned his lesson yet)* *Alternatively: he only remembers the good and none of the bad. Literally: he only remembers how to eat, not how he got beaten.

WY: Huff—forget it. 

WY: Since the plot's progressing smoothly, just go with the flow.

WY: I haven't done experiments in two lifetimes, but I've finally found the feeling back, so that's worth celebrating.

WY: (Moreover this slime's suddenly grown docile for some reason.)

WY: As long as it's not doing that crappy consciousness attack, it's rather cute.

X: !

X: Cu…te? *attempting to understand*

X: … … *blush*

X: He's praising me?

[Experimental Subjects Storehouse]

Frog: *turns*

Frog: ! 

Slime: Gluglugluglug…~

Slime:*scurrying noises*

[Dr. Wang's Laboratory]

WY: Phew!

WY: Okay, see you again tomorrow.

WY: Hm?

WY: Wait…

WY: Did you get bigger again?

WY: What's going on…

Slime: !

Slime: Get away…

Slime: Hurry, get away—

Slime: My other body ate something bad…

*expand expand expand*

Slime: I'm gonna.. …

Slime: GONNA—

[faroreswinds]

Existential question, but what are your thoughts on series changes and how it creates a rift between old and new? The new get criticized for being "casuals", and the old get criticized for being "stuck in the past".

Hm, good question.

I like to believe my opinion is nuanced. On one hand, I don't believe in abandoning a series' identity, and turning your back on the old fans. Old fans are what kept the series alive in the first place, after all. The fans that stuck through the bad because they believed in what the series stood for. The fans that shelled out their precious money for the mediocre as well as the good.

Those fans who stuck around because they loved the series for what it was, what made it special, should not be thrown aside casually.

On the other hand, I also do not believe in completely catering to old fans. New ideas can breath new life into an old franchise. And new ideas can bring about new ways to grow and gain an audience. Sometimes, some ideas are just too niche, and when ideas are niche the series can't pull the numbers in to expand beyond their horizons.

It's a fine line to walk. A series should explore new ideas, but I believe those ideas need to stay rooted to what made the series unique and special in the first place. This is not as easy as it sounds, though. We can see this in series like Zelda or FE, where some of the changes in the newer games have the older fans scoffing at them, while bringing in new fans who have no interest in the older games believe the older stuff is inferior in every way.

Like, if I was to use Totk and Botw as an example, Botw did not scratch that Zelda itch for me because it deviated too much from the origins of the games. Yes, I do mean the OG Zelda game. It has weak dungeons, a weak story, weak puzzles, and so on. But Totk actually felt more like a Zelda game. It still had weak dungeons and a shit story, but it took steps into attempting to bridge the gap between the new playstyle with some of the old, like a linear narrative (sort of), thematic dungeons, etc. [Admittedly, some of that might also be Totk cannibalized a bunch of Zelda games for ideas as well (sky islands, Imprisoning War, Ganondorf kneeling in fake fealty, Sages awakening, a "dark world", a Puppet Zelda AND a Phantom Ganon, time-loop).]

Fans on both sides, though, shouldn't be trying to gatekeep each other from the series. We all love the same thing in some way or another. Old fans should not sneer at the new for being different, and the new should not reject the old as some nostalgic boomer bait. It's the old that lead to the new.

I have been on both sides of the coin. I can say it is certainly easier to be on the "new" side than the old. I am not an old FE fan, for instance. I've only been a fan since Awakening. So the changes that came with Awakening and onward did not hit me so hard as it has FE fans that have been fans for longer. There was a time when I didn't understand why older FE fans clung to the older games, when these newer ones were just the old games but better! It took some time before I saw their side, and I understand now why these fans hold the positions that they do.

The "old" side is much more difficult side to be on. The newer side provides comfort. Comfort in knowing that future titles will likely be more like the new. But the old is not offered such luxury. The old side cannot know if the series will ever return to the way they liked it before. Will I ever get another 2D Zelda again, for instance? Is 2D Zelda dead for 20 years, or longer? Will Zelda continue to be copies of Botw, like Totk was for Botw?

And it is hard to hear how "aged and terrible" the old games are. It is hard to have fingers pointed at you as you hear that you only like the old games due to nostalgia.

I personally hate that this rift exists. I don't want it to exist. And I don't think it has to. I do believe that as long as the series stays true to what it originally was meant to be, what made them popular today and survive so long, the new would be welcomed by the old with more open arms, and the new would look more fondly on the old.

[tryingtimi]

A Wishing God

To break my absence, I leave here a possible ending of IQRUS. It's fun to explore all the things I was just contemplating yet. This piece also started as an attempt for one of the Flash Fiction Friday prompts, Expanding Horizons, but it ended up more.

DANE AND AUVA | ANGST | IQRUS ENDING EXPLORATION | WC: 2,476

Water rumbled quietly. The waves had reached out as enormous fingers, stretching forward in the distance. They licked the solid metal, swallowing more and more of it, almost touching Dane’s feet as he sat on the ground. It wouldn’t have mattered, though. He was wet already, anyway.

The Aquor Sector’s ankle high water level’s surface let him see the solid floor under him.

He couldn’t move his muscles as he sat in the liquid. Mind filled up, overflowed with everything he wanted to keep it in the pit of his existence. He came here for a reason, yet he wasn’t able to get further than tiptoeing to the edge of the Trashland and finally let his legs to give up under him. All the turquoise, slightly translucent hell surrounded him in the moment he reached the ground. His pants soaked through immediately, his mechanic leg getting tighter around his thighs as liquid terror seeped into the fittings. He knew he should have been afraid of the mutation.

But he couldn’t care less about that.

The day of him getting the Caelus Sector offered modifications burnt into his mind. All the serums, plays with his genes, protection he got. Immunity for the top of humanity, they dared to say.

All the people playing God up there.

He tried to think about pulling his pulled-up legs closer to his chest, but he wasn’t able to do that. His body wasn’t under his control now. Fright ruled his blood flow, all of his big and little muscles, his mind. There was nothing he could do about it, only acknowledge it. He was paralyzed. By shock or trauma, he couldn’t tell anymore.

The waves pulled back, slowly making space between Dane and them. The touch of the liquid swayed around his lower body. Every tiny movement of it made something twitch inside him, building up a feeling he didn’t know how to control now or ever.

He wasn’t planning to move, however.

Even if he could have, he was sure he would have been just sitting in the water, watching the far horizon of endless waves and light. There was nothing at the other end. No land, no building, nothing.

Tender swaying and quiet splashing signaled Auva’s arrival.

She didn’t say a thing, only stood beside him for a second, then slowly sat down. He lowered his head, letting it drop between his shoulders. He couldn’t bear the sight of that infinite horizon anymore.

“What now?”, he asked eventually. He wanted to squeeze his eyes together, but he couldn’t. Dane wanted to stay aware of Auva’s presence by his peripheral vision.

After everything had been done, he wasn’t ready to just drown in his darkness, alone.

Because he was like that. Alone. Finally, and completely. No Adran, no Eran, not even Icharo. So much good for one evil to fall. And so, their most dire problem hasn’t been solved by the sacrifices. Was it really worth it then?

Auva shifted, and Dane could see her hand reaching over to touch the waves that came back to them again.

“Now, you must become a Guardian. Properly.” She tenderly caressed the surface, her fingers parting the water ever so slightly. It didn’t leave a mark, only its echo on the froth. “That would be the ideal. That would be the end of my task. But you must choose it willingly. “ She paused for a moment. “And I am not forcing anything.”

Dane exhaled. A long, stretched out breath. Then, after closing his eyes for a second, he opened them again and looked at Auva.

She didn’t force him to choose. She should have, yet she didn’t. A strange, heavy weight loomed over Dane, as he sat under the open sky and watched this figure beside him who he still couldn’t fully fit into his mind. Into his heart, yes, but not into his mind.

Dane wasn’t sure if he wanted to be something like her. He had no idea what that would mean. Icharo… Lero was her kind too. Whatever they were truly, they had powers he didn’t know he wanted to deal with.

He still felt his mind numbing ever so slightly, only just thinking about what he went through and saw.

Save them.

Adran’s last words bubbled up from his tensed muscles into his mind, showing him the memory of their last moments. His brother. His savior.

Everyone’s savior.

Dane’s left eye twitched a little. He wasn’t the one who should be a Guardian of people. Ionera should be safe after Adran’s sacrifice. They won, didn't they?

He snorted at this thought.

Winning. There was no winner in matters like these, was there? And whatever he was ready to do, one question still remained unanswered: if he was ever ready to take up the burden of making things right so his brother’s death won’t be for vain?

“So be it,” he said, his voice even. “How does it work?”

Auva nodded ever so slightly, an almost reluctant acknowledgement. Then, she pulled out a little glass bottle from the tiny case attached to her belt.

Something gold swayed within.

“You need to drink this first. Everything else is up to you after then.”

“What’s this?”, Dane asked as she handed him the bottle. He hasn't taken it yet.

“A substance that flows in my body and keeps it moving.”

His eyelids fluttered closed for a moment as he gulped.

“So, it’s your blood.”

Auva glanced at the far horizon beside them, lost in thought, before she guided her gaze back at Dane and the liquid.

“That’s an accurate conclusion, yes.”

“And you want me to drink it?” He heard it the first time too, but he needed to make sure. And if Auva didn’t quite understand why he needed this confirmation, she hid it well. As well as any human would have.

“It’s not about what I want, Dane. The world depends on it. Your world.”

The water reached for them again, swaying closer and closer, almost reaching his legs. And the gold swayed with it in the bottle. Auva didn’t move her hands, yet the liquid twirled and twisted. Its metallic shine absorbed the light around itself.

Dane could feel the faintest unease in his mind.

A familiar feeling at this point. Something that made him sick.

He forced his gaze at Auva.

At her, who was the bearer of this thing. This something that changed his world at its core. This thing that those carried in their physical bodies too that killed his loved ones and doomed humanity.

Dane curled up his toes in his fully soaked shoes. His hands were white from all the force he was gripping them together.

Auva was one of them, yet she was so much different. She was here to help. She did not ask anything from him. She let him choose.

Choose something he always strived to reach. Saving everyone. Saving Ionera. Protecting the ruins of their world.

Dane wasn’t the right one for this responsibility, but he was the only one left for this world. So, with heavy hands, he slowly took the bottle, closed his eyes and snapped his head back so he could swallow everything.

Then, he let his hands fall back down and nervously waited.

Waited.

And waited.

Nothing has felt different. The water still licked his sides, he might not have been as cold as before, but other than that; nothing.

“How long does it take to begin?”

Auva smiled. He didn’t know how he could know this with his eyes closed, but he did. For certain.

“ᴏᴘᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇs,” she murmured, her voice sounding like a… prism. It belonged to her yet echoed on a thousand other.

He slowly lifted his eyelids, seeing nothing different over the horizon then before. A touch of early morning mist, endless water and small waves… in a room.

An intricate, vast room that contained everything he called his world. A room made of a prism. The walls reflected the sky, expanded horizons before Dane. All the layers of the images he’d seen opened up for him; the clouds’, the sky’s, the water’s and everything’s outlines splitted into hundreds of their own reflection, into shapes and colors he’d never seen before. Dane could see, feel and hear everything around himself. His vision, hearing and ability to feel erupted and expanded into something that made him be aware of all the happenings of the world. To feel every person and every living thing as if they were a part of him too.

Dane became the beating heart of Aetherius.

And with that, his core fright from before — that was so deeply a part of him he couldn’t acknowledge it fully — towards death evaporated into nothing. He knew he won’t die anymore. That he can’t die. Fear and death turned into mere concepts in his mind.

Then, he turned to Auva.

It wasn’t her true name. That wasn’t something that could have been spoken out loud. Dane stick with it, though.

The air wobbled around her figure that did not wore the features he was used to seeing on her. Golden bronze skin without a face, although Dane knew it wasn’t a skin exactly since it flowed in her physical form as well. Quills cascaded around her shoulders, blanketing her upper body, a featherless wing-like extension growing out of her back as a cape would.

He could use only mortal words to describe her, even though she was so much beyond that comprehension.

“ɪ ᴡɪsʜ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ,” whispered Dane. His voice similarly echoing in a thousand other as well. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of feeling anything at all, yet he knew he would feel awe if he would be his self from before.

Auva smiled. Dane could tell she was, no matter her faceless form.

“ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ.” Her voice still ethereal, the language they spoke celestial, if it was a language at all.

“Is ᴛʜɪs ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴇɴsᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ?” Dane needed to ask. There were things that did not ease with his ascension.

“ɪ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ Gᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀsᴛ ᴡʜᴏ’ᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ Mᴀᴅᴇ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴍᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴜs. sᴏ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪs ɪᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇɴsᴇ?”

What was he sensing? How could he describe it? He should have been overwhelmed, but he could not experience life as before. Eternal things laid before him, more than his world only. He won a glimpse of the other worlds that had burnt into his mind; people with pointy ears, monster-like creatures, black suns, violet moons and so, so much more. He’d seen a fraction of all the different sides of that infinite prism that his world reflected it too. He couldn’t be sure what he sensed actually.

He knew what he should have reacted to, though.

“ᴇᴍᴘᴛɪɴᴇss.” That wasn’t it exactly. “ꜰᴜʟʟɴᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴘᴛɪɴᴇss ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ. sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴏɴᴇs. ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴏɴᴇs. ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴍʏ ɢʀɪᴇꜰ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅs Aᴅʀᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ Eʀᴀɴ’s ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴏᴜʀɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ, Aᴜᴠᴀ. ɪ ᴅᴏ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. ɪ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴍᴇ.”

Some kind of wrongness nested in his core also. A plague, a reversed black hole. Aetherius’ doom, the dimensional tear that let the terrors pour into his world.

It had been hidden from him, but now he could sense it. The calling of the ocean, deep under all the monsters and darkness; the portal slumbered there, out of the reach of any mortal. But not his, not anymore. And so he could have a chance to extinguish it. Or begin to do that.

Auva nodded, excitement reflecting in the vibration of her magnetic field around her.

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴀs ᴀ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ɪᴛ’s ᴛʀᴀɢɪᴄ, ᴛʜᴀɴ sᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴅɪᴠɪɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴍɪɢʜᴛʏ.”

“ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ.”

“ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇɴ,” She extended her hand. “ɪᴛ’s ꜰᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴛᴀᴛᴇ ɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴏʀᴀʀʏ” And with that, Dane’s senses began to shrink. Whatever he experienced, it did not leave him, only made him more and more anxious. He couldn’t put his finger on what he’d seen in the next second, when he stopped feeling everything.

Minute by minute, he gained back that core terror of death and the dreadful woe that nested in his bones. He got back his grief and his mourning. His ability to remember and love. His focus wasn’t on all living things anymore, he wasn’t everywhere all at once. And he saw Auva only as a woman sitting waist deep in the water.

“How could this happen? I thought being a Guardian is a permanent task.”

Auva smiled and glanced at the bottle in Dane’s hand. He mirrored her movement, realizing he wasn’t paralyzed anymore, even though all his grave emotions only multiplied in his chest.

He furrowed his brows when he saw the golden blood still sway in the bottle. He could have sworn that he swallowed all.

“It was. Before you’ve changed the rules of turning into one. What I’ve said previously was something I only came to know the moment you made up your mind. And so now the rules are letting Guardians choose after they experience what it's like to be one. You’ve created a new concept. A new era. Change is never immediate from now on. It needs time and so you could have only one drop to begin with.”

Dane tightened his hand around the bottle.

“It sounds like I’ve modified space and time in a blink of an eye. That is something only…” God should be able to do, Auva. He stopped himself before he could finish his sentence like that. He couldn’t deny it anymore. He was one of them for a short period of time. If it was a short period of time at all, since time itself lost its meaning for him in that state. Or that’s how he could describe it if he attempted to put it into words.

A soft touch on his hand made Dane shiver slightly. He glanced at Auva’s tender gaze that was full of comfort, yet reflected something deep that he couldn’t really grasp. As if the cosmos itself had been captured in those eyes.

“It must be a lot.”

It was. Dane couldn’t deny that either. But there was also one thing that stayed with him the most after the experience. Something that made him confident enough to hold Auva’s eyes.

“I’ll take the role temporarily. I’ve seen the tear, so I need the power to unravel it, to find it again and close it. But as soon as we’ve reached that, I’ll find someone who’s worth enough to take this role properly,” he said and with that, he flipped his hand to took Auva’s in his too.

[ajoytobeheld]

Harriet Campesinos!' favourite records of the decade

January 4th, 2010

Hello all, and Happy New Year. Apologies for being the straggler here, but if anyone still cares, here are my favourite albums of the decade. I’ve put them in the rough order in which I discovered them, so that its an accurate chart of my rambling, non-sensical musical journey from the Mercury Prize to Pitchfork and beyond (hopefully).

PJ Harvey: Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea My Mum used to buy me the Mercury Music Prize CD every year, and in 2001, as far as I was concerned it was the last word in music and PJ Harvey was the last word in sophistication. On the album, she seemed to be living out my ultimate teenage fantasy lifestyle, especially in the video for Good Fortune where she’s walking the streets of New York at night. I think she welcomed me to the cult of the pop star, which I’m still quite prone to. See below…

Andre 3000: The Love Below When I finally moved beyond having Hey Ya! on repeat, Andre 3000 was there in all his splendour with more variations of style and soul than I was ready for.

The Arcade Fire: Funeral A list like this seems like a good place to celebrate collective passions as well as personal ones, and Funeral is the ultimate example of this for me. Ollie summed it up in his list.

Joanna Newsom: Ys Her favourite drink is raspberry beer because it tastes like a unicorn’s tears. Aleks has already put it more succinctly than I could’ve: its so complete and immersive.

Low: The Great Destroyer I cannot emphasize how much joining LC! has expanded my horizons, musically and otherwise. I knew Tom and Aleks liked Low, and the first time I heard them was when Tom put on ‘When I Go Deaf’ during an unexpectedly long mid-night, Mid-Wales drive. It took my breath away , and I can’t think of a better way to be introduced to Low.

Nico: The Frozen Borderline – 1968-1970 I don’t know if this is allowed…Not technically recorded between the years 2000 and 2009, but surely its a testament to the decade that it chose to reissue two of Nico’s less well-known albums, The Marble Index and Desertshore in such a complete and illuminating package?! The demos that are included are so moving, the sound of uninhibited self-expression.

Deerhoof: Reveille For many, including me, to know them is to love them. I chose this album, out of the ones that I know, for its strange and appealing mix of familiarity and weirdness. They are so unique, but at the same time seem to contain the past fifty years of musical experimentation within them. They are another band pinnacle I think, and now I will stop this vain attempt to pin them down as being anything.

Animal Collective: Feels It would be fair to say that I am a bit of a die-hard romantic, and so I had to pick Animal Collective’s most delicate record of the ones that I’ve heard. I really love their lyrics on this album and I love the thought of people writing whole series’ of songs to celebrate when they fall in love. Sorry about this readers, but I’m letting myself go because its the Christmas holidays. (I wrote this a few weeks ago and now I can’t even use the season as an excuse)

Battles: Mirrored Typically, I was a latecomer to Battles. Unfortunately somehow I got them confused with the band Battle when I first read about them, and I just really couldn’t work out why people kept going on about them! Luckily I realised my grave mistake just in time to get very excited at the prospect of playing on the same day as them at Melt! Festival in Germany. We watched from the side of the stage, which is good in some ways, but can completely destroy any illusion that the band you love so much is talented or charismatic. Of course Battles sounded perfect and were completely riveting. Melt Festival! was also a very aesthetically appropriate place to watch them play, as the site is surrounded by huge disused pieces of machinery looming over a very modern concrete amphitheatre. They seem to me to be the pinnacle of what a band can be, but no doubt their next album will redefine it all over again.

Camille: Le Fil She’s a ‘world music’ artist apparently, according to HMV. This album is also terribly avant garde because all the songs grow out of a continuously hummed drone note. What she actually is is a French singer who brings the tradition of the Parisian music hall into precisely the first decade of this century. Sadly I can’t speak French but Camille’s voice is just so emotionally direct that she seems to have all human emotions covered as well as some that are just her own.

Chrome Hoof: Pre-Emptive False Rapture My friends from Islet introduced me to this. Its such an exciting album from start to finish and I’m so happy that this band exists today. They’re such massive show-offs and clearly have a few too many ideas up their long glittery druid sleeves. The sound that somebody makes in ‘Moss Covered Obelisk’ at 6:21 is certainly my best noise of the decade.

Micachu: Jewellery I think Micachu is a special artist. This album manages to be simple and complex at the same time. Its so rhythmic and perfect to dance to and also, every moment is filled with ideas. When I listen to this album I get a sense of somebody who absolutely needs to make music, and would’ve created something amazing in whatever time, place or culture she found herself in.

[mourninggaylibra]

2 — McCoy Tyner and Marlboro Lights

It is the summer of 2016, and I have decided to take up smoking.

When my high school’s band director noticed the same student fleeing to the choir room to practice Chopin piano etudes at lunch and sometimes in lieu of class, she offered that I further expand my musical horizons and join the jazz band as a pianist. While I had no knowledge of jazz whatsoever, I considered the challenge of learning something truly new and accepted her offer.

I learned that jazz piano is quite different from classical. Where I was used to black dots on a page telling me when and where to depress the keys to create music, it was shocking to find that jazz is more mathematical. Unlike classical music, jazz sheet music consists of letters and numbers, alone, oriented on the page to show the skeleton of a tune, with ample room to expand and improvise creatively, without dictation. I feared I wouldn’t be very good at it, as it seemed my brain was hardwired for the strict rules of classical playing. Jazz is unruly and creative, two things that I feel I am not; but they’re things that 2 was when I met him.

2 is something of a jazz prodigy. He can memorize virtually any jazz standard and imbue it with his own voice when he plays, ensuring that there’s enough room for his complex improvisations while still leaving space for others in the band to contribute their own musings. He is, by all counts, a musical genius. When I said yes to joining the jazz band, despite my lack of knowledge, 2’s skills never failed to impress me. He had been a member of the jazz band for quite some time, and when I arrived, the pressure to keep up with him forced me out of my comfort zone. 

Even though I was outside of my element in jazz band, I still tried my best. 2 witnessed my attempts and ran circles around me, challenging the boundaries of his instrument to do more than what it appeared capable of. My jazz playing was stiff, and 2 often told me my playing was too classical and rigid, when I should feel free to loosen up and have fun with the music. I was eager to learn from 2, so when he asked if I wanted to see him play with another group of musicians—not affiliated with our school—at a private show in a smoky hotel lounge, I said yes.

The hotel was on the other side of town, and 2’s show didn’t start until the late evening, so I had ample time to visualize about the scene that would soon happen: a seventeen year-old chubby kid would walk into a hotel lounge at 9pm, not to meet anyone, not to illegally buy a drink, not to do anything, really, but hear the band play. Imagine my delight to find that most other attendees were there to do the same, maybe not within my demographic, but the lounge was packed with eager jazz afficionados, awaiting what was in store.

The music hadn’t started yet, so I ran to the bathroom before entering the lounge to ensure I wouldn’t interrupt the show with my getting up to go. As I entered, 2 stood at the sink with his face wet, and his eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror. My footsteps broke his concentration when he turned to see who had walked in. “You came!” he said with excitement before enveloping me in his arms. “And just in time, too. We start in just a couple minutes!”

I should have known something was wrong then. 2 had never hugged me before and I didn’t know him very well. And when I looked into his eyes, his presence seemed trapped behind a thin fog. It was as if his expression was no longer like the open door I’d witnessed before, but instead, a closed window: translucent enough to see through but strong enough to keep his more primal instincts within. At the time I thought it was just nerves, but I would come to know this look intimately in the months to come, only to discover its true cause could not be further from nervousness. “I better get out there,” he says before leaving. I wished him good luck before joining the others in the lounge.

2’s playing was, as always, inspired. He employed complex rhythms and made his bandmates—much older than 2 was—look inexperienced by comparison. 2 was unhindered by the confines of a public-school classroom. He was in his element: able to experiment and truly let loose, where each musical idea came and went with such incredible frequency that even the most dedicated musical mind would feel fatigued. As I ogled at his playing, I found myself wanting to learn more about him, out of admiration for his playing and based on an attraction to his craft. I had never met anyone as passionate about their music as I was, and 2 proved that I wasn’t alone in my pursuit of music’s beauty.

The show ended to thunderous applause, as a crowd had amassed beyond the lounge’s capacity. Patrons stood in the doorway, in corners, and alongside walls just to hear the band play. I left the lounge to find 2 packing his things outside. “You were incredible,” I say to him, as if a word could convey how I truly felt about his playing. He looks up from his bag and smiles, his eyes still foggy, and asks me to join him outside. “You smoke?” He asks me as we both sit on the curb near the service entrance. “All I have are Lights.” 

I had never smoked before. My mother was a walking commercial for anti-smoking campaigns, warning about the chemicals contained in cigarettes that would develop into black lungs, which would develop into cancer. But when 2 offered me one, I couldn’t say no. 

Peer pressure never looks like it does in middle school health class. I’ve never been in a situation where a group of good-for-nothing kids said that I wouldn’t be “cool” if I didn’t smoke with them. The fear of not looking cool more accurately describes what I experienced with 2: not the opportunity to be cool, but to give the impression I was never uncool. He smoked, so I should too. I inhaled and held back my coughs, determined to make sure 2 never found out I lied. 

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says after we each take a couple drags. I smile and tell him I enjoyed myself, that I love hearing him play. “Hearing you makes me want to get better at playing jazz. All I know is classical,” I confess.

He offers a favor to me. “Well, I could help you if you want. At home, my dad has a studio, and we could practice in there whenever you want.” I thank him and say yes, not expecting much to come of it. How many times had I proposed to hang out with someone and not followed through with it? I figured this offer would be the same. 

When we finish smoking, he asks if I can drive him home, because he doesn’t have a car and I was the only person he knew who had come to see him play. I tell him yes, and we walk back into the hotel together, pack up his things, and leave, sharing another cigarette during the drive. I wondered how he would have gotten home had I not arrived tonight, but push the thought aside. When we arrive to his house, he thanks me, leaves, and closes the door shut, before I drive away.

At jazz band the next day, he follows through on his offer. “Come over after school today! We can jam out together.” When I accept his offer, he looks elated. “I’ll wait for you at your car after school.”

We split another cigarette on the drive from school to his home, and this time I park along the street before he shows me inside. “Hey dad,” he says to the only other person inside. “This is a friend from school. He’s here to play music with me.” His dad, stoic and silent, nods before 2 drags me into the back of the house, where an entire band setup is laid out: a full drum set, high quality microphones, guitars, basses, and of course, a piano are all begging to be played. 2 offers the piano to me with a hand, and proposes a piece for us to play, another seemingly random assortment of numbers and letters on a page. Thanks to jazz band, I’ve gotten proficient at reading these on the spot, but the pressure to impress 2 is great. Of course, his playing is free and relaxed; mine is very measured and tactical. “Your problem is that you don’t like jazz,” he says to me when we finish the tune.

“What do you mean?” I question. “Of course I do!” He explains to me that he can tell I don’t because nothing about my playing is like that of the greats. “You should listen to some real jazz pianists,” he suggests. “People like Bill Evans. Dave Brubeck. Here, let me show you.”

2 sits at the piano bench beside me and places his hands on the keys. “This is a great voicing, and you can use it whenever you don’t know what to do.” Under his hands he stacks what I see as intervals of musical fourths and thirds, spanning two octaves. “This is how McCoy Tyner played. Open voices so the other members of the band can fit in the middle.”

When I left that session, I wasn’t exactly elated. In fact, I felt stupid. I knew so little about jazz and 2 knew so much; and up to this point in my life I was used to being the most knowledgeable person, in any given room, about music. I went home and I listened to the pianists he recommended with a fervor, paying careful attention to McCoy Tyner’s voicing and how his bandmates benefitted from his careful harmonic placement.

The weeks continued in that way: we’d go to jazz band, I’d drive him home and we’d jam out, and I would see him play anytime he had a gig outside of school. My jazz playing improved minimally, but noticeably. To hear 2 comment on my progress was the only encouragement that I needed to continue. Even the band director noticed, who marveled at my ability to play new music—confusing numbers, letters, and all—without having seen it before.

As my musical skills sharpened, my feelings for 2 deepened. Our dynamic was unique, it wasn’t that we just spent a lot of time together (nearly every day after school), but that we fed off of each others compliments. I praised him profusely for his playing; and with every hand he rested on my shoulder or gentle brush of my back, he’d smile encouragement onto me.

One day, before the start of jazz band, I went to the bathroom to wash my hands of a late lunch I’d had. I opened the bathroom door to sounds of retching and coughs, with the smell of vomit and cough syrup in the air. “Everything okay?” I asked, unaware that it was 2 with his head dangling over the toilet bowl. The retching stops and I hear a flush as 2 exits the stall. “What’s wrong?” I ask. Once I realize its him, my thoughts quickly change. I felt an instinct to know everything that was going on, especially when I noticed that the same fogginess behind his eyes was there again, like it was the first night I saw him play at the hotel lounge. “I have to tell you something,” he says to me.

We were both fifteen minutes late to jazz band that day. He told me about how he got into jazz playing, and how he was a lot like me when he first started out: mild and formulaic, where voicings have to be spelled out on a keyboard before utilizing them. He felt that the only way to free himself of this structural rigidity was to experiment with drugs. He tried the lot of them: marijuana, pills, the like; but what he was using now, in our school’s bathroom stall, was cough syrup. He drinks an entire bottle of it before playing, and for some reason, his body cannot keep it down anymore: Every time he drinks cough syrup, he vomits. Now, standing in front of me in the bathroom, he doesn’t know what to do to make sure his playing is still lively without the syrup, and is me asking what I would do if I were him. 

I don’t judge, and I don’t comment on his playing. I just hold onto him and tell him to wash up as best he can so we can join the others. “We’ll figure it out,” I comfort him. I had a million thoughts in my head: half of them questions, and half of them answers. Now I knew why his behavior was so different at school and in jam sessions than it was at his performances: he was high. I began to wonder about all the times that I didn’t think he was high but he actually was, whether I truly knew him or only knew his high self, and how his honesty would complicate our relationship. I was happy that he trusted me enough to tell me, but I feared what would happen as a consequence of it.

2 found a drug that can be bought online, salvia, that could serve as a replacement for cough syrup. It’s not illegal, and you can apparently get it shipped to your home. It is a mild hallucinogenic, and 2 was eager to try it. The only problem was that he did not have any money to buy it, and that his dad was always home before he was and would receive the package before 2 would get home. 2 devised a plan that he later relayed to me: “I’m going to order it online to some get delivered to some random house, and you can go pick it up and bring it to me!”

I thought again about that night outside the hotel lounge and how I wanted to impress 2, not with how cool I was, but with how uncool I wasn’t, in smoking my first cigarette. Though my relationship with 2 was pretty cursory, as most of our conversations revolved around music and little else, he trusted me and I trusted him. I didn’t need to know about his family, or his past, or anything of that sort; and he didn’t need to know about mine. Our conversations were weightless for it. I said I would help him.

When I picked up the salvia at someone’s home (how he picked this home, out of all the ones he could have, I’ll never know), I drove to his house feeling guilty. Not only because I felt like I was being used as his pawn—a personal taxi service and delivery driver—but because I was enabling him. By helping him, I am allowing him to avoid the true problem that 2 faced: that he felt he needed to be high to sound good on his instrument. Legal or not, mild or extreme, that’s an unhealthy mindset for a young man to develop, especially when they’re as talented as 2.

I knocked on his door and 2 rushed outside excitedly, not because he finally had a new drug to try, but because his band had been selected to perform in New York City. The same band that garnered a massive audience at that hotel lounge, all those nights ago, had been invited to play a show at Lincoln Center. “Can you believe it?” he asked me. “I’m going to play on that huge stage in New York City! For thousands of people!” It seemed that he forgot all about the salvia when he leaned in to kiss me, out of excitement for what was to come and out of appreciation that he could share the afternoon with me. He grabbed my hand, the package of salvia in my other, and led me inside for our usual jam session.

I could barely focus after he kissed me. 2 and I had never discussed our feelings, and we didn’t even know each other beyond our musical pursuits, but something about our relationship felt naturally formless: neither friends nor something more, yet still affectionate. Our rapport was light. We didn’t need to know each other’s intimate details because the music we created was deeply personal, albeit without words, and able to express that which words cannot describe. When we played during our usual jam session that afternoon after he kissed me, I kept waiting for him to do it again because I feared doing it myself, out of caution that my feelings would ruin our special, musical exchange. I decided to let 2 control what would happen next. I wouldn’t ruin this like I ruined the relationship I had with 1. I continued our session with anticipation for something that would never come: the rest of the day continued like normal.

When he left for New York some weeks later, 2 asked me to hold onto the rest of the salvia for him while he was gone, so that his dad wouldn’t find it in his room. I said sure, and drove him home one last time before he left for his Lincoln Center debut. “I’m going to miss you,” I said to him, stopping him from leaving my car. “I’m going to miss you too,” he replied. He looked at me then, his eyes as clear as I’d ever seen them, and touched my cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll call you when I’m there. I’ll send pictures, and tell you all about it when I come back. I’m so excited!” He put his hand on mine, which was resting on the gearshift, and looked at me. I half expected him to kiss me again, but instead he just smiled and left.

2 arrived in New York and played his show. I would have given anything to have seen it myself, but I didn’t need to hear it to know that he had left all of his musical offerings on the stage. I was scared to think that 2 was probably high during his performance and felt a strange hopelessness, in that I cannot alleviate it on my own. It is a difficult thing to see a loved one fall victim to the challenges of addiction and know that there’s nothing to be done: 2’s struggle could only be relieved by 2, himself. I was mindful of this when he texted me how happy he was to be in a ‘musical city,’ detailing his plans to frequent other jazz clubs in the coming days and meet other musicians and feel the city’s musical pulse. I was happy and scared for him at the same time: happy he was finally in his element, scared of what drugs he could get his hands on in a city so big; all the while waiting for him to return home to be with me.

The next day at school, while 2 was still in New York, the band room was buzzing with news and a crowd amassed in the room’s corner. When I approached, I found another member of the jazz band explaining her problem. “I have no idea what happened. I guess my debit card got stolen? I got charged for a purchase on some sketchy website that I’ve never even heard of. And my dad is so pissed, he thinks that the website is something off the dark web that sells drugs. So now he thinks I do drugs, and he won’t believe me when I tell him it wasn’t me. He thinks I’m lying.”

I left the room immediately and pulled out my phone to call 2. I remember him telling me he didn’t have the money to buy the salvia, but I didn’t remember him telling me where the money came from so he could order it online. He picked up, “Hello?”

“Hey. Did you steal someone’s credit card to buy salvia?” I asked him, with anger, fear, and slight resentment in my heart. I knew 2 had a problem, but I didn’t think he would steal money to solve it. I thought everything he did was lawful. Misguided, sure, but lawful. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied.

“The salvia,” I said. “Did you buy it using a stolen credit card? Because someone’s card got stolen to buy drugs online, apparently.” He assured me that it wasn’t him. He said he would never do something like that, because he wasn’t a thief. I was unconvinced. I said to him, “You need to repay every penny you spent on her card, or I’m going to report you for theft and drug use. I don’t care if salvia is legal, you cannot be stealing people’s money.” All he said was “okay,” before hanging up.

I thought I was appropriate in handling the situation. I was upset that he had wronged someone else, that his problem had escalated to the point that he needed to steal to get what he wanted, and that I was his pawn in achieving a malicious goal. I wanted no part of it, and I resolved to make him repay the individual who he stole from, not just monetarily but to explain the situation to their family, too. I felt bad for being stern with 2, but I felt that this had gone on for long enough: he would break his habit, and I would be the one to help him do so; if not through my compassion for him, then through brute force.

A few hours later, I got a phone call telling me that 2 had overdosed, and that he was being transported to the nearest hospital. Another member of the band saw as 2 collapsed in front of him, seizing and foaming at the mouth. The bandmate called an ambulance and 2 was transported among the traffic and sounds of the city, before he called me. 

In retrospect, I don’t know why 2’s bandmate called me. Perhaps 2 had relayed to his band how close we were; maybe they saw how frequently I attended their shows at the hotel lounge and knew to call me. 2 would be at the hospital for a few days at least. I was grateful to be in the loop, but when I heard the news, I felt a massive weight of guilt.

My first reaction to the news was that 2 had overdosed because of me. I threatened to report his behavior, and even though what he did was illegal, and the girl in jazz band had every right to pursue a legal action, I wondered if he did this because he was scared. Up until now his behavior was secret; but I had put it together and threatened to topple his entire operation, not just about the theft, but the drug use, too: something he was adamant that no one know about. Out of anger I had threatened that I would expose it all, and I feared that his overdose was a reaction to it.

I couldn’t focus on anything else that day. I no longer merely wanted to be in New York, I felt I had to be there—wherever he was—at his side, willing him to wake up. It was a fear I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, and not knowing whether he would wake paralyzed me. I prayed that 2’s bandmates called the ambulance in time, that he would be well again, and would finally realize the gravity of his problem.

After a sleepless night, the next morning came with news from a bandmate. 2 woke up after getting his stomach pumped. He had overdosed on dextromethorphan, the same drug in cough syrup. The drug also comes in pill form, and he had consumed an entire bottle of twenty pills. The bandmate told me that they asked 2 why he did it, and all he said was, “I thought I could.”

I was relieved that 2 was at least okay, but the guilt I felt that he was in the hospital as a consequence of what I said kept me from calling him. I didn’t know if he wanted to keep me in his life, and the thought that he didn’t horrified me. I had come to rely on him and his company, not just for musical enrichment, but because I craved his attention. I loved him, and I’d spent every day at school in anticipation of when we’d drive to his house and share a smoke before playing inside. I feared that the overdose would change all of it, and that he wouldn’t want me anymore.

When 2 returned home from New York, everything was different. His father wouldn’t allow any visitors, and even though he was cordial in class, 2’s attitude towards me was largely ambivalent. Our history forced his kindness in class, but our shared knowledge of his secrets kept him at a distance. His true persona had been discovered, and I was left to watch from afar.

Eventually, his band returned to the same hotel lounge for a celebratory performance, to commemorate their New York debut and promise a return to form after 2’s stint in the hospital. I went to watch because I missed him. Even though I saw him every day, I felt that I’d lost him. Maybe if he saw my face in the crowd, just like he did all those months ago when we first shared a cigarette in the hotel parking lot, he’d remember the time we’d shared and come back to me.

I sat alone in the back of the lounge and watched him play. His playing was as good as it had ever been, but his physical presence drew my attention away from his music. I yearned for him to return my gaze—to look at me and smile—as if to say that the hellish weeks we had endured were over, and he would touch me, kiss me, share music with me again.

I looked for 2 when the performance was over, but a bandmate approached me instead: the same one that called me when 2 was hospitalized. “Hey,” he calmly said. “I don’t think you should see him right now.” He was referring to 2. The bandmate explained that things had been ‘crazy’ since New York, that 2 was different, and that my morality had scared him. That 2 had now thought my admiration was conditional, built upon my supposed moral high ground that 2 felt he had to meet and couldn’t reach. 

My concerns weren’t based in morality though, if anything, I called 2 that day in New York out of my own selfishness. I was scared to lose him; I wasn’t imposing my judgment onto him. I wanted to shield him from the ridicule of others and the wrath of his father. It’s true that my fear might have made my words imply differently, but my concern for him was genuine, and my love was unwavering. I wanted to fight 2 on his mistaken belief, to somehow convince him that my affection was without condition. But then I thought of the fear I felt waiting to hear if 2 would wake up from his overdose, how much I wished to never go through such a feeling again. I had never dealt with such a conundrum: that my love was perhaps conditioned upon him being there to receive it.

Try as I might, I couldn’t talk about it with 2. He was adamant on avoiding me just so: not to the point where class was unpleasant, but to an extent that class was our only interaction. Gone were the days of shared car rides, dimly lit hotel lounges, jazz, and shared smoke. Our connection was replaced by polite ‘hellos’ and ‘see you tomorrows,’ and with each passing day, I could feel the space of where his hands used to rest on mine grow colder. I forgot what it felt like when he kissed me, and I stopped playing jazz altogether. Eventually we did drift completely apart. Today, 2 is a stranger.

I still listen to jazz’s greats, and Bill Evans is a mainstay in my home. Sometimes I wonder what 2 is doing now: I wonder if he still plays, I wonder if he still feels the need to get high to play jazz for an audience. I also wonder what he thought of our relationship, sordid and confusing as it was. Our ending was so abrupt, and every now and then I yearn for closure. What happened in New York? How did he feel about me? What could have been had I never called him, or had he never stolen the money in the first place?

I look back on that time with wistful nostalgia: the excited hope I feel when I remember how he used to teach me what he knows, or when he used to sit beside me on the piano bench. But underneath is such a tired sadness, a regret that things couldn’t have been as they should because of something that was out of either of our control. Addiction is too devastatingly real to reflect on with any romanticism; but underneath that still is a warm longing for someone who believed in me in the way that 2 did, and for what could have been.

[bouwrites]

Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 43

The Alliance Leader’s Ambitions

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Story under read-more.

“Ah, Teach.” Veery smiles, nodding to Professor Byleth as she approaches. “Are you checking up on my training?”

Professor Byleth nods. “The Imperial army will arrive soon. Are you prepared?”

“Is anyone prepared to go to war?” He sighs. It’s easy to pretend, despite the rubble around them, that he’s simply back at the academy days. “I won’t lie… I’m not sure I’m making the right decision.”

“That’s understandable,” she says kindly. “I would be more concerned if you did not hesitate to go to war.”

“…You aren’t hesitating.”

There’s a soft exhale next to him, something approximating a sigh. “Is that how it looks?” Professor Byleth asks. “I’m glad. Our allies don’t need to see me hesitate.” A pause. “But it’s not the truth.”

Veery looks over to her. “Really? You… always seem like you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Professor Byleth smiles slyly. “I haven’t known what I was doing since I came to Garreg Mach. All I know is mercenary work, and even then, I wasn’t any good at anything but the fighting part. I’m horribly unqualified to be a teacher.” She looks down into the fishing pond, watching the fish swim past. Someone has recently cleaned it, after five years of no maintenance. (The smell was something that, apparently, cannot be tolerated.) “I never expected to enjoy it so much.”

Veery hums, following her gaze to the water. “I never expected to like it here, either,” he admits.

“Even if we didn’t expect it,” Professor Byleth says, “this is how it is. That’s why it hurts. I will never turn my back on Claude, but… the truth is that Edelgard is one of my precious students, as well. I try not to show it for everyone else’s sake, but I am not entirely sure yet that I have the conviction to kill any of my students. I decided before all this that I would die to protect them, so now…”

That… makes sense. Veery isn’t aware of the full breadth of Professor Byleth’s relationships with the students of the academy, but he does know that part of the reason they adore her so much is because of her care for them. Veery himself is no exception. He has never had a mentor in his life… ever. Some of the agell elders try, and Affah may even come close, but no one listens to him like Professor Byleth.

There is a difference, between teaching and guiding. Instruction, encouragement, and control. The only figures in Veery’s life who may qualify as “teachers” only ever tell him what to think and believe. Affah isn’t as bad about it as many of the elders, but Veery only truly learns that after his time at Garreg Mach, when he gains the confidence to speak his mind to counter their teachings in the first place.

Professor Byleth tells him what to do, yes. She’s the reason Veery knows anything about Faith magic, and he still doesn’t understand what she sees in him that makes her think he’s suited for it (even though he has to admit by now that she’s right). But never once has she told him what to believe. She only pushes him to expand his horizons, learn all he can, and be the best he can be. She ensures he has every tool at his disposal to survive – which lines up perfectly with Veery’s aims.

She only supports him and brings him into the family that is the Golden Deer and does that completely unprompted.

She is a good teacher. It makes sense that she would hesitate to kill one of her students. Part of Veery thinks he’s stupid for not realizing how hard this must be for her – she always seems so composed – but another part is wondering what it says about him that, when given the chance five years ago, when his relationship with Edelgard was so much closer than it feels now, Veery does not hesitate at all.

He fails, of course, because Edelgard is stronger than him, but he does not hesitate in his attempt to kill her. For Veery, the simple truth is that he believes from the very beginning that these humans will eventually try to kill him. It’s a foregone conclusion that, if he can’t escape, he will kill them first or he will die. No matter how much it pains him, no matter how much he wishes it isn’t like this… part of him always expects to have to kill these friends of his. It applies to every human. Even Professor Byleth, even Caub, even Claude. So, he does not hesitate one bit. Not because of that.

Does it make him a bad person, that he is prepared to kill someone he calls a friend? Even those he calls family?

“Teach?” he asks. She hums for him to continue, so he does. “What do you believe in?”

Professor Byleth is quiet for a long time. When her answer comes, it is simple and direct. “My students.”

It’s the same answer as before. It’s what she has faith in, what she believes in. Her purpose is her students. “If more of us were on Edelgard’s side,” he asks tentatively, “would you fight with her? Do whatever it takes to minimize the number of your students who have to die?”

More silence. It stretches thin. “You’ve called me out,” Professor Byleth says softly. “You’re right. My students are the most important things to me. Not ideals or justice. I never had to think about those before, only the mercenaries in my crew. Perhaps that’s why. Even so… I am not sure I will be able to kill Edelgard, but I know I cannot kill Claude.”

Veery nods. He doesn’t expect her to admit it like she does, but he has the feeling… they aren’t so different. It’s not about those grand ideals, not about making the world a better place or appeasing the gods or anything. Even so, Professor Byleth’s reason is a lot less selfish than Veery’s. “I’m scared,” he admits, frowning at the fish.

“So am I,” Professor Byleth says.

He can’t help the disbelieving chuckle. “It’s… hard to imagine you scared.”

“I am.” She shrugs, as if it is perfectly normal. “My students are about to fight in a dangerous battle. I am only one woman – I know I cannot protect you all. I can only hope that the lessons I’ve taught everyone up to this point is enough to keep you alive. I missed five years, Sothis won’t wake up… I no longer have my father to guide me. Sometimes, it seems as if nothing has changed, yet other times I do not recognize anything.”

“I… know the feeling,” Veery whispers. “I feel it too. I’m not sure if it’s war, or just that humans change so fast, but… everyone is so different. Sometimes it’s like I never left but sometimes…” He sighs, shaking his head. “It must be much worse for you.”

Professor Byleth hums softly. “Maybe. But it’s nice to know I’m not alone.”

Veery bites his lip. How ironic. He’s a hermit who only wants to live alone in peace, but she’s right. It helps, knowing that he’s not the only one with doubts. If even Professor Byleth doesn’t have complete conviction, then he feels… a little less like he doesn’t belong here.

He doesn’t. Objectively, he has no place here. That’s sort of the point of fighting for Arcadia. But… he feels better about it knowing that he’s not alone.

“Good work, everyone,” Claude says, looking out at everyone assembled in the war room. “Thanks to you, Garreg Mach is bustling again. As much as can be expected, anyway.”

Alois eagerly leans over the table. “Yes! The Knights of Seiros must express our thanks for your help with the restoration. You all even routed the bandits!” He sighs, looking guilty. “That job should have fallen to us. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Hey, don’t think twice about it,” Claude says. “We’re all allies in the resistance against the Empire, right? Garreg Mach isn’t just the center of the faith, it’s literally the center of Fódlan. We want to secure this location while the Empire is still overlooking it.”

“That’s all well and good,” Catherine huffs. “And until Lady Rhea is found, I won’t protest you using Garreg Mach. Just don’t think that we’ve forgotten the lies your side spread.”

“Now, Catherine…” Alois starts.

“No, it’s fine.” Claude waves off Alois’ concern. “In fact, I’m glad she said something.” He takes a breath, casting a commanding gaze over the room. “If we ignore the tensions within our own alliance, the Empire will surely take advantage of them. The relationship between the Old Church and the Cult of the Cat Saint is part of the reason we lost Garreg Mach five years ago. It isn’t something we can afford to overlook now.”

Veery sinks in his chair, covering his face with his hands. He really doesn’t bear any ill will towards Lysithea and Claude for encouraging that cult, but… by the gods, what a nightmare.

Catherine rolls her eyes. “It sounds like you’re scheming something. Out with it.”

Claude nods. “Very well. With Veery back with us, and his cult only growing while he was gone-”

“Because of you,” Catherine says.

“I won’t deny that I encouraged it.” Claude shrugs. “The cult has been very useful under Lysithea’s watchful eye in our thus-far covert work against the Empire. But with Veery back with us, the cult will have a higher morale than ever. You can leave Leicester proper to me. The Kingdom is firmly rallied around Duke Fradarius, though they obviously aren’t present here just yet. That leaves just the problem with the Knights of Seiros and the Old Church.”

Catherine hums. “You’re not wrong. But don’t think that we’re going to budge on finding Rhea.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Claude says, smiling. “In fact, I want your opinion on this idea of mine. The problem we face is inspiring the hearts and minds of the people of Fódlan. They’ll be crucial if we want to win this war. Restoring Garreg Mach goes a long way, but simply deciding that it’s ours to occupy won’t quite do the trick. What we need is something – or someone – for all of us to rally behind. Faerghus, Leicester, church, and cult alike.”

“That’s a tall order,” Catherine says. “I suppose you have just the one in mind, don’t you?”

“Naturally.” Claude grins mischievously. “I would have brought it up earlier, but I wanted to make sure that she’s okay with this responsibility. The obvious choice is our good ol’ Teach. Think about it. Lady Rhea adored her, even entrusted the Sword of the Creator to her. I’m sure you remember Rhea’s order that if anything should happen to her, we should entrust the affairs of the church to Teach?”

Catherine grimaces. “I remember. You raise a good point.”

Professor Byleth smiles. “Don’t worry. I have every intention of finding Rhea.”

“Hm. I suppose I have no choice but to believe you.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Claude says. “Rest assured, I want to find Rhea alive, too. So, I hope you will cooperate with us, and bring along the Old Church faithful with you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Catherine says. “I will fight the Empire. I know it’s a hopeless cause on our own. It makes sense to work together, and it’s true that Lady Rhea wanted me to follow Byleth.”

“Good.” Claude nods. “I’ve been carefully curating the information around Teach up until this point so that Edelgard doesn’t get wind of her and send reinforcements. That said, with the Imperial army at our doorstep, it’s time to reveal her. Teach will be our figurehead, the symbol of the resistance against the Empire, to a united front rather than having four separate banners to try to inspire the people with. On that note, I’ve asked our beautiful and talented Hilda to prepare something for us. Hilda?”

Hilda tuts, pulling a large roll of fabric from under the table. “Don’t expect too much. It’s just a proof of concept, really…” She unfurls the roll, revealing an immaculately crafted banner. Grey, with a gold and red border, and the Crest of Flames emblazoned front and center.

“You may recognize it as the Crest of Flames, which resides in Teach.” Claude says. “The phantom Crest that has reappeared after more than one thousand years. We’re attempting our own miracle, so it seems like a suitable symbol for us.”

“It is an excellent idea,” says Seteth. “The defense of Garreg Mach will be the first victory under the banner of the resistance, and Byleth’s sword and Crest will inspire the people. Many will believe this is divine providence.”

Ugh. Despite how fortuitous that language is for them, it still leaves a bitter taste in Veery’s mouth. He hates the idea of sainthood for more than just because he doesn’t want the attention, after all. He disagrees fundamentally with the very idea of divine decree being used as a measure of anything.

“Now we just have to ensure that we win here,” Lysithea says. “Or this rebranding will ultimately be a waste of time.”

“No need to worry about that,” Claude says. “We have everything we need to succeed. So long as we’re coordinated, there’s no way the token force Edelgard is sending after us can take Garreg Mach. In fact, thanks to Dorothea’s information, we’ve actually overprepared. As much as we could, anyway. General Ladislava, who was part of the group at the time that Dorothea got her information, broke off on the march since then to fly to Fhirdiad. It seems that she only went part way with the assaulting force and was truly flying to communicate with Edelgard’s allies in the Faerghus Dukedom.”

“Which is good for us,” Leonie frowns, “but we shouldn’t underestimate General Randolph. Edelgard doesn’t do half-measures. If this is all she’s sending, it’s because she believes it’s enough for her aims.”

“True, except Edelgard doesn’t know about Teach, yet. The power of the Sword of the Creator coupled with her skill, plus the morale boost and unity we get from fighting under one banner and a clear leader, is more than enough to turn the tables on her.”

“A clear leader and one banner.” Seteth hums. “We must also ensure we have a clear message that can rally the common people.”

“We’ve had that from the beginning. This new rebranding will just make it more obvious,” Claude says. “Arcadia. As requested by the goddess herself in her revelation five years ago.”

“Edelgard claims to fight for Arcadia,” Catherine says. “You cripple your own message by aligning with your enemy.”

“Normally, you’d be right,” Claude sighs. “But too much of what we’re doing smacks of divine providence. People haven’t forgotten the revelation. If we claim to fight for anything else, Edelgard will turn the people on us immediately, saying that we’re hypocrites claiming to side with the goddess but ignoring her own words. Obviously, we’ll campaign on relief, too, and putting an end to the war, but the broader, idealistic goal is building Arcadia.”

“You are hypocrites,” Catherine scoffs. “You are just using the goddess to get people on your side.”

Claude frowns for a moment, closing his eyes as he leans on the table. “…Regardless of any of our personal beliefs, what we saw in the Holy Tomb during the revelation is simple fact. Sothis connected her heart to Veery’s in the Sealed Forest and gave him the power to heal us, and then later she appeared before us all and gave us the message that everyone knows well by now. It won’t do anyone any good to deny that much.

“But I, for one, agree with Sothis’ dream.” Claude eyes Catherine, gaze hard. “And you know… for everything that she said, even her message to me, personally, it’s what she said to Veery that keeps me thinking. Fly free, she said. Free and alone if that’s what you want. This war isn’t about the church, or the Alliance, or the Empire. It’s about freedom.

“Hilda, Teach, and Veery know all this already, but…” He sighs heavily, looking every person in the room seriously. “It’s about time I laid my cards on the table. I’m asking a lot from all of you, and I can’t expect your trust if I can’t even give you a little bit of mine.”

“Claude, putting his cards on the table?” Lorenz chuckles. “It truly is a miracle.”

“Ha! Be that as it may, I’ll make it plain for all of you. Edelgard has made her path to Arcadia clear. You’re here because you disagree with her. I’d… like to know if you agree with me.”

“Well, we don’t have all day,” Lysithea says. “What are your dreams, Claude? Though, I think I have an idea, already…”

Claude smiles. “You, Lysithea? I’m sure you have me all figured out. But as for my dream… Well, for example… to bust open Fódlan’s Throat.”

Alois sputters. “Bust open the Throat? Wouldn’t that leave us open to attack from the Almyrans?”

Claude laughs, but it comes out almost like a sigh. “Not if they wouldn’t attack us. Listen. I like to think of it as a lid on a bottle. The people of Fódlan only know a small part of the world. Their prejudices are born because they don’t know what lies beyond their borders. And the opposite is true too. Those outside of Fódlan don’t know about this place. Ignorance breeds discrimination. Whether you look inside the bottle or outside of it… If you really look, all you find are people who you can get along with, if you only try. That’s why I want to bust open that lid, which is keeping us locked inside. Or destroy the bottle entirely.”

“Peace with the Almyrans is possible,” Hilda says. “I believe that.” At her words, people hesitate. She is a Goneril, after all, responsible for protecting the Throat. She has more authority than anyone on this particular issue, aside from Holst himself. “And you know Claude is right. Look at Veery! Friends can be made anywhere, and if we only try to get along, we’ll all grow from it, and the world will be a better place. That’s the whole idea of Arcadia – it doesn’t matter who or what you’re born as, we can all live together in peace.”

Lysithea hums sharply. “I was right, after all. Since we’re being honest, I may as well say that I’m fighting for my own reasons. Even so, I look forward to your Arcadia, Claude.”

“We all have our own reasons to fight,” Claude says, nodding to Lysithea. “But that’s the beauty of it! We’re all free to choose our own destinies, to live as we see fit. It’s about freedom. No more artificial bottles keeping us from seeing each other or forcing us to think any particular way.

“You know… I used to think that being alone is the worst thing in the world. I have to admit, part of the reason for my dream being what it is, is because I hate the idea of isolationism. But that’s why it’s Sothis’ message to Veery in particular that stood out to me. She said that my dream is her own, but she also told Veery that he should be alone if that’s what he wants.”

Claude worries his lip for a moment, then sighs. “I’ve always understood that he’s not like me. He needs time alone. But at the same time, I never understood how he can dream of just going off and living completely isolated for the rest of his life. I even tried to convince him to stay a few times, but I know better than anyone that there is no shackling him.”

A beat passes, and Claude’s eyes land on Veery. Veery himself wrings his tail, uncomfortable with the attention. “But that’s exactly why I love him. He is exactly what Arcadia should be. He’s a hermit from another continent, and he comes here and so quickly becomes part of my family. He proves that we don’t have to stay in our bottle, and that the people on the other side of that glass don’t have to be strangers. We don’t even have to sacrifice our own beliefs to get along with others, we simply have to respect theirs. Veery does it, his friends from Albinea do it. Teach, who grew up outside the faith, does it.

“So, let’s tear down the walls between us, not each other,” Claude says. “Let’s make peace with Almyra, with Dagda, with Sreng. Let’s make Arcadia, a place where people are truly free to think for themselves. And let’s stop Edelgard, before she forces Fódlan into just another bottle of her own design.”

War rages in Fódlan for five years, but Veery knows only a single battle. The very first battle of this war, the battle of Garreg Mach.

Once more, he stands at the walls of Garreg Mach, awaiting the impending Imperial army. Most of the town is still in ruins, the scars of the battle five years ago yet linger, both on the landscape and on Veery himself. He holds his arm, touching the ugly scar from Edelgard’s axe, and knows that it is just one of many scars he’s given that day.

Rough hands cover his, gently pulling his hand away from the scar on his arm and lifting that arm so that Caub’s lips can meet the raised line there. Caub snakes one arm over Veery’s shoulder, and let’s Veery’s arm fall to hug him from behind, nuzzling gently into his neck. “War, huh?” Caub murmurs, just between the two of them. “This is really happening.”

Caub is affectionate, but he’s also professional. Veery knows him well enough to know that an embrace like this, on the cusp of a battlefield, isn’t the same as when he’s drinking himself silly and getting a bit too touchy. Veery… probably should care a little more about the invasion of his space. Besides his own feelings, they’re in clear view of their allies right now, and things may be misconstrued. Ordinarily that isn’t a problem, but with the Cult of the Cat Saint no doubt watching him… But Caub will not do this – not now – if he does not need it. So, Veery doesn’t mind.

“Having second thoughts?” Veery asks. He won’t blame Caub for it. Part of him really wishes Caub would stay in Albinea where he’s safe from this, where he has family who loves him, and who he loves.

“Never,” Caub says firmly. He pauses a moment, and then continues in Albinean. “But I admit… I guess I’m not as brave as I thought I was. Now that it’s right in my face… I’m ashamed to say that I’m just about shaking in my boots.”

Veery hums, purrs for a few seconds, allowing Caub to hold him tight and take comfort in the rumbling, and then Caub releases him – is that enough comfort, or is Caub simply backing off for appearances in front of their allies? – and Veery sighs. “You know I’m scared, too,” he says, responding in Albinean as well so that most of their allies cannot overhear. “I still doubt that coming back was the right decision. But… I have faith. Even if it’s stupid and doesn’t make any sense and I’m not sure I’ll survive, I’ll keep going, because that’s what I need to do. You?”

Caub chuckles softly. “I am a proud Albinean warrior. I am a seer and a poet. I am…” he sighs, “happy, so long as I am by your side. And I believe in Arcadia. If I die in this war, in this land, let it be gloriously, in battle, with my axe in hand. I… I am not afraid to die. I am afraid that you will.”

“…Please don’t accept your death so readily,” Veery murmurs. “Survival always comes first. And you need to be there to witness Arcadia when we finally create it.”

Caub smiles. “Walking through the streets hand in hand with an agell… It still astounds me that I can do that here.” He sighs, still grinning to himself. “You’re right. Selfish as I am, I want more. I’ll trust you to survive to Arcadia, and I will prioritize myself in turn, as you wish. If fate allows, we will both enjoy Arcadia personally.”

“What are you two mumbling about?” Sadi sidles up to them, smiling impishly. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Caub coughs awkwardly, pink dusting his cheeks as Sadi pins him with her gaze. “Not at all,” he says. “We spoke merely about the battle ahead. Are you prepared?”

“As anyone is for war,” Sadi says. “I have no doubts in this path, if this is what you mean.”

“Good.” Caub nods.

“Do you smell it, Veery?” Sadi asks, flicking her tail towards the town.

Veery eyes her, frowns, and sniff. Ah… smoke and iron, carried in on the breeze. Yeah, he smells it. Veery nods. “They’re almost here. Just outside the walls now.”

Caub sighs. “This is it, then. Let’s find Hoarvug and Dorothea and get in position.”

The three of them make their way down into the town, where the frontline fighters are already standing at the ready. A few of the old Deer are down here. Lysithea for one, the Deer’s best tactician next to Claude, who is in the lower part of Garreg Mach, the town, while Claude himself flies above it all commanding the defending fliers and Professor Byleth takes command of the defenders closer to the monastery itself.

Lorenz is down here, too, with Thyrsus and his own battalion to lead. Catherine insists on being the front line of defense, but she’s further east from Veery and the others, with the more fervent church loyalists among the knights with her, separated at least a little from the cat saint and the other heathens.

Veery himself is not a general, and thus does not technically have any command, but there is no mistake that Caub, Hoarvug, and Sadi answer to him alone, not to mention how the more ardent cult believers would gladly follow his orders should he give any, and the fact that he’s present at war councils alongside the actual generals, so most common knights and soldiers probably assume he is.

But though Veery has plenty of tactical training from his time working and training alongside the students of the academy, the fact remains that he’s not trained to be a commander. He’s not an actual alumnus from the academy, despite how closely he worked with them, and though he learns a lot about command in practical exercises and on the field, he still does not attend lectures, so his education is half-baked at best.

Part of him feels like he’ll be bad at it, if he has to take command. He’s not good at thinking beyond himself in the middle of a battle, if he’s honest, and there’s no way he can make the tough calls that a war like this will bring. He’d rather follow Claude, or Lysithea, or even, as he is in this battle, Dorothea.

And making Dorothea a general is a heck of a move on Claude’s part. She may be the only Adrestian general in the resistance army who’s not also one of the Knights of Seiros. But no one can deny that she’s a trained commander, alumnus of the Officer’s Academy, and thus qualified for the position.

Of course, despite five years of helping the resistance, her Adrestian blood still leads some to distrust her. Maybe that’s why she has Veery on her team in this battle? Claude knows Veery, at least, won’t put up a fuss about following Dorothea’s orders.

“This again…” Dorothea sighs, looking out into the town. At this very moment, the Imperial army is breaking into the outer walls. The defenders here don’t have the men to hold the outer wall, but they can hold the inner one, where the Imperial army will be funneled into smaller arenas.

“At least Edelgard isn’t here this time,” Veery offers, trying to keep his voice light. Claude always… tries to keep things light in times like this. “And we already took out Randolph once.”

Despite it being an objectively poor attempt at levity, Dorothea cracks a tiny smile. “You gored him; you mean.”

“Honestly, I hardly remember it. Probably wouldn’t at all if…” His voice trails off. If Caspar didn’t tell him later that Randolph is his uncle, is what Veery almost says.

No one needs a reminder that they’re killing old friends and their families. Veery winces and holds his tongue.

Dorothea sadly hangs her head. “I wish we didn’t have to do this.”

“We all do,” Veery says. It hurts his heart, to think of Caspar. Sometime in this war, they will almost assuredly cross paths. Even if Veery is not the one to face him, he will likely be on the battlefield. It’s not so bad with some. Ferdinand is a good man, but one whom Veery has little attachment to. They did not grow close. Edelgard was a close friend, but five years of this all festering has dulled those feelings. Veery… regrets what will come, but he no longer considers her close.

But Caspar… Caspar who he roughhouses with in the training yard, who he dances with and laughs and gossips with. He may not be close like Claude or Sylvain, not family, but he is most definitely a friend. And that feeling in Veery’s heart does not go away in these five years. No, Veery misses him keenly.

And today, Veery is part of the force that will kill Caspar’s uncle.

Veery sighs. “But they chose this.”

“…I know.” There’s a crash. The Imperial army is inside the walls of Garreg Mach. Dorothea takes a breath, steels her expression, and looks out over her troops. “Does everyone remember the plan?” As soon as she has her men’s confirmation, she nods, hefts her levin sword, and takes the first step forward. “Then let’s go. The Imperial army will not take Garreg Mach again!”

Just like that, the battle begins.

In the midst of the fighting, it’s hard to remember that they’re all five years older. Truthfully, the only thing that grounds Veery in this time is the simple fact that, five years ago, he is the only agell in Fódlan. Sadi taking the legs out from under a nearby soldier or Hoarvug ripping open a man’s cuirass are signs too far removed from the battlefield of five years ago that there is no mistaking where they are.

But everything else… Dorothea’s electric magic, the clashing of iron, the fire, the blood, the red… it is as if it is yesterday that Veery walks these streets and finds himself at the mercy of Edelgard’s axe. It could very well be in this same hour, for how these visions blur together so completely.

Perhaps the last five years are not in the past at all, but another cursed premonition, like that moment when Jeralt dies.

There is a moment, surrounded by blood and flames, where Veery hesitates. He hesitates because he realizes that he cannot bear to lose these last five years. If it is all just a premonition, then Veery does not know Caub. He does not earn Hoarvug’s respect or help find Sadi’s cub. If it is only a premonition, then Veery loses part of his family. And he, who is so afraid of betrayal and deception and who is already crippled by one human fulfilling the agell’s prophecies of humans, already betrayed by Edelgard, by Solon, by… by his own faith, which believed the best even in his parent’s murderers… If it is only a premonition, then every moment that gives him real hope, when he watches Caub and the agell learn about each other and fight together and get along, is gone.

Veery is not sure he can bring himself to trust again. It is already so difficult. If that too betrays him, then… it may be impossible.

For a moment, just a moment, as Veery summons a Nosferatu spell, the shape of the magic within his maw fizzles into nothing and dissipates in the smoldering wind.

An enemy falls in front of him. Hoarvug bears a razor-toothed grin and roars. He brushes Veery’s side, and Veery feels… openness. An invitation, the baring of his soul, waiting for Veery to respond. And he does.

Veery opens his heart to Hoarvug there on the battlefield, wondering what the purpose of this distraction is just as much as he appreciates something so unmistakably now to bring him out of thoughts of the past, and then, when his soul brushes Hoarvug’s, when their fur slips together to burn orange, it all makes sense.

The domain of the first god, Chaos, is not war necessarily, but war does fall under her sphere. Like all things, there is Order and Chaos both in war, but even so, few can argue that the battlefield is more firmly in Order’s domain than it is Chaos’.

But Chaos is not simply terror and blood and death. Those do belong to Chaos, just as they also belong to Order. Also life, and light, and growth – growth is so, so chaotic. Tell twenty people to grow as they will, and you will see twenty different paths through life. No order, no structure, can contain the natural growth of people, even as that growth follows rules and structures and meaning that only Order can provide.

Right and wrong, betrayal, deception, trust… what do they matter, here in this wild world? Every individual, with Chaos’ blessing, follows only their own path. Even when they align with others, it is through their own choices.

Hoarvug has these ideals inscribed so deeply in his heart that Veery feels almost as if they are his own. The path does not matter, so long as the decision to walk it is his. Lost in time or not, even if he walks into war, even if he is betrayed, even if he dies, he reaches the end of his path with his own power. It is his muscles, his energy, and his drive that propel him forward.

There is no such thing as fate. A loss of time, a loss of trust… it doesn’t matter, because Veery is not beholden to the world. Every step forward is taken with his strength, and every obstacle in his path is cut down with his claws. If Veery finds he does not like the destination his path leads to, he needs merely to walk in a different direction.

There is no obligation to continue. The path doesn’t matter. In the eleventh hour, if a warrior believes a diversion in his path is for the best, there is no problem with that. The ultimate goal is not the point, and he does not need to be convinced wholly that he is doing the right thing, nor does he even need to follow through to the end if another path is yet available to him. All that matters is that he keeps moving.

A warrior is… someone who walks that path of theirs regardless of what lies in their way. A warrior is someone with the strength to keep propelling themselves forward, even if things look bleak. A warrior is someone with the conviction to cross any border, overcome any obstacle, not because they fight for good or truth or any moral ideal, but because they are strong enough to face those obstacles and keep moving.

And the sun continues to turn, no matter how much any individual so desperately wishes for it to hold still.

A warrior is like the sun.

Is this… really how Hoarvug – big, strong, scary Hoarvug – sees little Veery? Veery can feel it in Hoarvug’s very soul, so there is no denying it. Awe and splendor, warmth, like gazing up at the sun.

Veery fights. He fights and survives because surviving, moving, is what matters in life. Even as his straining muscles fight with him, they do the work to bring him further along on his path towards that ultimate dream of Arcadia, of peace. But the path, the life which Veery is experiencing, in this moment, is defined by surviving.

In Hoarvug’s eyes, in his heart, Veery is a warrior, who shines and who pads along on his path as sure as the sun. They fight side by side, one warrior and another, bonded in battle, part of each other, their souls marked by each other just as their bodies are. Thin lines on Veery’s face, from Hoarvug’s claws, a missing chunk of ear, from Veery’s teeth, conviction and certainty…

Hoarvug laughs when the trap is sprung. Dorothea’s hand drops, giving the order. Veery pulls a rope and sends flaming barrels raining down upon the Imperial army. Some of the town burns, but it is merely the already abandoned, already destroyed part that hasn’t recovered even the slightest from the battle five years ago, in the groove so cleanly carved by Rhea’s dragon breath, where nothing of note even remains.

Fire burns hot like the sun, and Hoarvug laughs, and Veery cannot enjoy this, but he laughs too, because he feels it. He feels what is so enjoyable to Hoarvug, because he keeps brushing against him, touching their souls, searing each other in this battle.

Like a dance with Flayn, he and Hoarvug know each other as if they are each other. Every movement, every attack, every step, every cut, every loss, and every victory is felt by both of them at once. Every motion is as if they’ve practiced their entire lives, because the sharing and listening is so, so easy with this power of theirs. And they are a terror together on the battlefield.

A battlefield is a place where one proves the strength of their convictions. It is not necessarily in the strength of their bodies or their magic, for setting the world ablaze is no less valid than an honorable duel. The point is to survive here in the depths of Chaos. To prove that they can face the most insurmountable odds and still come out and keep moving forward. It’s a visceral reminder, every burn, every sting, every drop of wet blood and scratch of smoke and ash in their lungs reminds them that they are moving yet forward, finding new obstacles to overcome, and that once they’re past this, they will be a few more steps forward, in whatever direction they are walking.

Where they walk doesn’t matter. What matters is that they walk at all. That’s what a warrior does. Let the truest of warriors set this battlefield aflame like the sun they are.

It is in the midst of this conquest ablaze that Veery, Hoarvug, and the others meet Randolph. Veery reminds himself, in this heat and red, that this man in front of him is Caspar’s uncle. Caspar’s family.

Randolph recognizes him. As Hoarvug once more brushes his pelt against Veery’s, there is this twin feeling between them that this is how it should be. Of course, Randolph remembers Veery. No one who encounters a warrior like him can possibly forget. Veery can’t help but puff out his chest a little, pride swelling it. The general of this detachment, which Edelgard so erroneously thinks can take Garreg Mach while these warriors are resolved in defending it, eyes Veery as his greatest threat.

And he is right.

Veery does not want to kill him. No amount of mingling his heart with Hoarvug’s will change that. Frankly, Hoarvug doesn’t delight in death, either. It is not killing his enemy that he so enjoys, but the conquering of another challenge, another obstacle, though he is, unlike Veery, much more eager to end the lives of humans. He is so mired in those old prejudices, though he is getting better about it, that it doesn’t hold the same meaning to him that it does to Veery.

And Randolph… he is Caspar’s family. Veery’s heart aches, and Hoarvug purrs for his sake, and Veery knows what must be done here.

He must bring down the flames of the sun onto Randolph. He must show this general exactly how much of a warrior he is. He must show Randolph that nothing will stop him in his tracks. If he does not… then Randolph will do that to him.

Like the sun, Veery will never stop moving. He pushes magic out of his maw and calls on that constant starshine. The flames of conquest and of conviction and of constancy, which will never die. Veery growls, pure white flame licking at his lips. Dorothea slashes with lightning, her levin sword extending her reach. Caub punches Randolph in the gut with his shield, biting into the neck of another soldier with his axe. Sadi hamstrings a soldier, throwing him onto the spear of another.

Dorothea sees what’s happening – it’s her job to, as the commander here – and orders Caub and the nearby knights back, filling the area they vacate with lightning to prevent their enemy from following. Her eyes meet Veery’s, and they nod together firmly.

Neither smile. Neither want to kill. Neither want to rid Caspar of one of his family members, however removed he may be. Veery cannot imagine how difficult this will be when they face Caspar himself, or any of the others. All the same, they cannot show mercy. This is war, and this is ultimately the choice that they make. This will not be the obstacle that brings Veery to a halt.

So, Veery darts forward, clashing with Randolph. While lightning cracks through the air and ozone, smoke, and ash sting at his eyes and throat, while Randolph’s men come in at him from the sides and Randolph himself holds surprisingly firm in the face of Veery’s flaming maw, Veery releases the blinding light of the heavens, of the ever-moving sun, down upon their heads. Abraxas.

[titoist]

something i've been attempting, & find myself unable, to reconcile is the extreme, irreconcilable dissonance that apparently exists between the me who is contained within this blog, & the me who exists outside of it. the former is crouched, groping in the dark for the borders of their surroundings like a mime in an invisible box, while the latter tends to spread & flow driftingly into the surrounding air, like the tributaries of a river expanding outwards. like when i'm sincerely enjoying myself with someone i love, and all of this - the way i've come to present myself & the things i write & think about - recedes into a dark fuzziness behind my eyes, silly, senseless, anxious scrawling that doesn't mean anything to me. at that moment, when i am happy & content, engrossed either with another or with the rare moment where i'm pleasantly surprised by the outside world, i cannot actually conceive of myself returning to this state, the mind & demeanor i write a majority of these posts in. perhaps i could vaguely guesstimate or predict that i will return, using experience & logic, but i cannot actually feel that. it is beyond my mental horizon that i could return to unhappiness, after having felt the way that i do in that moment. sometimes i become aware of this even while i'm in the middle of unabashedly enjoying myself with someone i love... in which case, i often 'feel the need' to temper myself, consciously be a bit more similar to the way i act on my blog/in my diary, correct course, attempt to establish a sense of congruity in my general state of existence. maybe it's a false dichotomy - well, it almost certainly is, considering that... uh, well, tip to toe, it's me. &, since that much is true, it follows any potential 'shift' in personality can only ever be just a sort-of... ebbing & flowing in my manifestation as a person. probably & more likely, it's just a manifestation of the fact that i am naturally more grave when attempting to seriously process events and spaces - & having this blog, who's primary function is to process events & spaces on paper, be my exclusive space for self-expression for the past year or so has sort of driven me into a subjective emotional corner.

i'm going to have to end this off with the approximate recreation of a post i made all the way back in... ~december of last year. because it is essentially still true, & is exactly what i'm trying to relay; "once again all of my posts come with the tacit stipulation that the few thousand silly, scared, nervous words i just typed completely melt away & become meaningless when i find myself in a situation where i know that i can be silly with a person i trust, & that they are hearing my words exactly as i am saying them. but, as it turns out, that type of situation takes up a very extreme minority of my time, so i keep typing regardless"

[buttercream-squad-imagines]

Tinder in Real Life

Pairings: Harry Lewis x fem!Reader, Sidemen x platonic!Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: Language some people may find offensive, sexual themes, recycled lines from Sidemen Tinder in Real Life because I'm not at all creative Request: Hey! Could you do reader x Harry imagine where the sidemen do a collab video with the reader who is also a big youtuber and Harrys celebrity crush. And during the video the reader is very flirty, leaving Harry a flustered mess when the flirting is directed towards him, but very jealous when its with any other sidemen.

The Sidemen were one of the biggest groups on YouTube and one that you were very familiar with. At the age of 23, you were a fair bit younger than some of its oldest members but yet you had a close relationship with JJ, whom you had met through YouTube.

You had started your channel when you were 17, just under four years ago, making makeup videos, which was a passion of yours when you were younger. Not that you were any good at it back then. Those videos quickly become unlisted when your channel started blowing up in late 2016, now nearing 20 million at the present time.

It wasn't long before you expanded your horizons and had started making different sorts of videos, including vlogs of your everyday life - which wasn't and still isn't that exciting in your opinion - and those where you just had a laugh, attempting to do stupid challenges that were so popular back then. It was those, however, that grew your channel. Your fans seemed to love them and so you gradually started to make more.

As your small channel began to grow significantly, it caught the attention of KSI, a member of the Sidemen, who reached out to you to for a collab. You were ecstatic. You couldn't believe it at the time, why would someone like KSI with 20 million subscribers want to collaborate with you? By that time, you couldn't exactly call yourself a small channel anymore, with almost 5 million subscribers but it still didn't make any sense to you.

You and JJ quickly bonded after filming together. You had a very similar sense of humour and interests. As the years went, the older boy became one of your best friends, the nature of your relationship being very teasing and flirtatious but the both of you knew it was a joke. It was just the way you both were.

Though despite having known him for nearing 3 years now, you had never met the rest of the Sidemen, with the exception of Simon, as he lived with JJ. Which is why when he texted asking you to collaborate with the Sidemen, you couldn't turn the offer down. You were a fan of the group and the content they were producing. You thought the videos that they made were exceptional, that they were pushing the envelope of the standard of content on YouTube and often found yourself excited for new videos.

He had explained that they were filming another of their 'Tinder in real life' but a YouTuber version with the likes of BambinoBecky and ChiWithAC. You were so excited. You were finally going to meet the rest of JJ's friends and you had the opportunity to be a part of a Sidemen Sunday.

You arrived at the studio the boys were filming at in the afternoon, finding and greeting JJ before he introduced you to the other sidemen in addition to Lux, Freezy and Stephen.

"And you've already met Simon." He finished.

"Yeah. Nice to finally meet you all. JJ tells me a lot about you guys." You laughed.

"Because that's assuring." Ethan pointed out with a chuckle, the other boys letting out agreements.

"Not all bad, I promise." You teased, winking at him. Ethan felt the blood rushing to his face, immediately becoming flustered and stumbling over his words. You found that you often had that effect on people as you could be very direct and flirtatious even when you didn't mean it. To you it was just friendly banter.

"Geez Y/N, stop flirting with people you met literally five minutes ago." JJ rolled his eyes.

"You sound a bit jealous, Jide." You smirked, a teasing grin spread across your face.

"Nah, allow it." There were eruptions of laughter around the room, coming from the boys. You were quick to notice Harry standing out of the way and was significantly quieter than the others, with what seemed to be a forced smile on his face.

Harry was in his own head, barely paying attention to what was going on around him. When JJ had told him that you were going to be in the next Sidemen video, he panicked. You were an accomplished YouTuber who he was quite fond of to say the least. Well, that would be an understatement, he had a fairly large crush on you. A crush that no one but Freezy and Lux knew about.

He knew that JJ had been friends with you for some time now but never considered the possibility of even meeting you. His anxiety acted as a barrier to even the thought of it. But he was currently in the same room as you and had said nothing more than a short 'hello'. He longed to have the confidence Ethan had to speak to you, even more so for you to look at him the way you were.

Already you were flirting with JJ and Ethan, something that caused a pit to form at the bottom of his stomach. He wouldn't admit it, but he could slowly feel the jealousy forming. Not that he had anything to be jealous about in the first place!

You continued to speak with the boys as you got your mic set up, telling them stories you were sure would embarrass JJ.

"Y/N, stop." The older boy whined. He could be like a child sometimes, but it was one of his more endearing qualities. He simply wouldn't be JJ if he wasn't.

"No, carry on." Simon laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from." You teased.

"I think it's time we started, don't you think?" Harry grumbled.

"Right." You smiled at the boy, who's cheeks became tinted red. He ducked to hide his face and walked around to stand in the line, hiding himself in the middle.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, I'm 23 and I'm from Y/H/T." You spoke to the camera once you were given the go ahead.

"I'm Simon, I'm 28. I like to practice safe sex."

"Always a good start."

"I could tie you to the bed, so you don't fall off." He finished with a giggle. You acted like you were pondering it for a moment before letting out a laugh and swiping right.

"I'm down for that." You teased. The boys all let out rumbles of laughter

"Hi, I'm Ethan, I'm 26 and kiss me if I'm wrong, but you're gonna swipe right."

"What would you rather?" You joked. Ethan shrugged his shoulders and walked closer to the board, sticking his head through with his lips puckered, eliciting a cry of protest from Harry that this wasn't allowed. You laughed and made an over exaggerated motion to swipe to the right, causing him to pout playfully but walked over to the right anyway.

"Hi, I'm Josh, I'm 28. KSI has a top ten single, but you're the only hot single I can see."

"Wow, that was smooth!" You said with a grin. "Definite yes from me."

"I'm Callum, I'm 26. Are you into fitness?" Freezy asked.

"Can't say I am." You replied, unsure of what turn this could take.

"How about you fitness dick in your mouth?"

"I wouldn't get too excited babes, I gag on my toothbrush." You laughed. "We could try though."

You swiped right on him, chuckling as you watched him let out a yes before joining Simon, Ethan, and Josh. You frowned slightly, a crease forming between your brows as you saw Harry whisper something furiously at his friend but ultimately got distracted by Vik stepping up to go next.

"I'm Vik, I'm 25. My ex-girlfriend always said I'd never do better than her, wanna prove her right?" You could hear the cries of the boys in the background, some scolding him, others laughing.

"Man actually said prove her right. Not wrong." JJ shrieked with a shocked look on his face, holding his head with his hands.

"You need to find someone for that." You snarked, swiping left on the boy, who shrugged and walked off.

"Damn! You got told!" Lux cackled.

"Uh hi. I'm Harry. I'm uh 25, no I'm not I'm 24." He stumbled. "Are you sure you're a muggle? Because that ass is magical."

"You should see how magical it can be." You spoke before cringing at yourself and laughing, swiping right to avoid a reply. The boy's face grew a bright shade of red, closely resembling the colour of a tomato.

"Geez, is that an offer?!" Freezy yelled from the right side. You laughed, observing how Harry whispered furiously to the boy to stop and winked at him once he had could see. Your laughter only increased as you watched JJ step up.

"I'm JJ. I'm 28 and are you a raisin? Cause you're raising my dick." The boy in question stood in front of you so confidently, hands clasped together in front of him so seriously that you just lost it. By the time you composed yourself, there were tears almost falling from your eyes.

"A* for effort." You laughed, swiping right eliciting a cry of success.

You had wrapped up filming your segment of the video, which conveniently was the last of the day. You found JJ who you spoke to whilst the other boys were otherwise occupied talking to each other.

"Cheers for coming, Y/N/N. You've been great."

"Anything for you." You joked.

"Don't tempt me." He laughed. You could feel eyes on you, eyes that were burning into your side. You turned your head to see Harry staring you and JJ down before looking away after being caught in the act, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Does Harry not like me or something?" You whispered to JJ, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

"Not that I know of." He frowned looking at the younger boy. "He can be a bit awkward at times and gets flustered a lot."

"Right." You agreed. You excused yourself before sauntering up to the boy in question, calling his name to snap him out of the daze he appeared to be in.

"Oh, um hey Y/N." He stumbled.

"Hi." You smiled gently. "I uh, I was just wondering, do you... have I done something to offend you?"

"Offend me? Why, uh, why would you think that?" He rambled.

"It's just... it's nothing, it's probably just me overthinking things." You waved it off, feeling like a complete idiot.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I don't like you. I don't not like you, in fact I really like you! Oh, um I mean I like you, you're very pretty." The boy couldn't stop rambling which made you laugh. "No, wait."

"You think I'm pretty?" You blushed interrupting him. Harry felt his mouth go dry, not being able to get anything coherent to come out. "Well, Harry, I really like you too."

"What?" His eyebrows shot up so far it was almost comical. "Really? So, you don't like the other guys?"

"What? No." You laughed. "That's absurd. Why would you think that?"

"You seemed very..." The boy trailed off, not wanting to offend you after you had admitted to liking him.

"Flirty?" You finished, causing him to nod. "I'm like that with everyone, I don't mean to be half the time."

"Oh."

"Well, how about you give me your phone number and when you finally grow a pair, you can ask me out?" Your confidence levels had shot up spontaneously.

"Uh, sure." His cheeks had become a dark shade of red as he passed his phone to you so you could put your number in. You kept looking up at him as you typed, putting your name under 'Y/N x' in his contacts before handing it back to him.

"Y/N! Come on! We're going to Nando's!" JJ called from the other side of the room.

"Call me." You winked. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and was currently the only thing from stopping the wide grin from spreading across your face. A grin that hadn't disappeared from your face for the rest of the day, much to the curiosity of JJ, who was disappointed when you refused to tell him why, or more appropriately who, had put the smile on your face.