#but I saw this book recently called together we rot

[rottengurlz]

I decided to start the alien romance but I’m also going to be starting a dowry of blood by s.t. gibson so I can get the best of both worlds alien freaks and bi vampires <3

[darknight3904]

Like We Used To

Masterlist / Main Masterlist

This marks the beginning of Part Two of This Love. 

Warnings: Slight references to male masturbation and dirty dreams. Nothing wild.

Asgard 2013

   "Are you sure you want this?" 

   "Hush, Fandral, she can make her own decisions." 

   "Yeah,  I can make my own decisions, and I  have decided to change it to blue." 

   "HA! You're such an idiot!" Volstagg cheered, slamming his final card to the table which erupted into loud groans 

Astri and her friends had been playing a Midgardian game Thor had brought back from New York, it was called Uno and Astri was inherently terrible at it.

   "He can not keep winning like this," Hogun said tossing his hand into the middle of the table. 

   "He has to be cheating," Sif whispered  

   "We could always rig the cards against him," Fandral suggested 

   "But then, is it a fair victory when one of us wins?" Astri asked 

   "It is if he hasn't been winning fairly this whole time." Sif pointed out

   "Pass the cards out, I plan to win again." Volstagg declared

   "Cheater," Fandral whispered as he dealt the cards again.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Loki didn't realize how mind-numbing his time in the dungeons would end up being. The first few weeks had been a blur, Frigga had sent furniture and books to him and he spent time rearranging and figuring out the best angle for his bed. Now, he was out of furniture to rearrange and the endless books were becoming boring. He had begun to stew over his loss on Midgard but felt his mind slipping away from his humiliation. As he lay there, he realized he missed the feel of the sun on his face and the way the wind would slightly blow through his chambers when he left the balcony doors open. Loki missed horseback riding through the dense forests of Asgard and the way the stars looked down at him at night when he couldn't sleep. Most of all though, he missed Astri and everything that came with her. He missed the way her laughter would carry through the castle when he made a bad joke. He could imagine the way her long hair would shine whenever the sun streamed into the huge library windows. Loki swore he could smell the soft scent of Astri's fruit-smelling perfume as he lay in his cell.

He couldn't believe she hadn't visited him yet. At first, he had presumed Odin had banned visitors but after asking Frigga who said Astri was free to visit him as much as she wished, he was saddened by her absence. Every day when his meals arrived he swore he heard the soft clicking of her shoes, instead he was met with the same guard over and over again. Loki tried to imagine what she could possibly be doing without him. They had spent nearly every waking moment together as they grew up. Was she with Thor or Sif? Was she rotting away in the library, learning a million different spells? Or perhaps she was with the Aesir fellow she had met in the damn markets? Loki had felt jealousy swirl in his stomach at the idea of the last one. Aesir wasn't necessarily terrible but he just seemed so droll. The way he just mindlessly complimented Astri whenever he saw her, it was like he was grovelling for her when they barely even knew each other. Loki doubted he even remembered what Astri wore each time they saw each other. Did Aesir know Astri's favorite foods and that she hated red flowers? Clearly not since he brought her bunches of them all the time and brought almond cakes when Atri clearly liked lemon better.

By the time his supper had arrived, he had decided that Aesir was possibly the most boring Asgardian who ever lived. Beyond his flat personality, he has terrible style. Loki had peered into Astri's mind the other night and found the most recent memories of Aesir. He had been dressed in the worst possible outfit. The way the silver in his armor contrasted against his skin made him look rather yellow. He felt Astri's embarrassment as they had strolled through the gardens when multiple handmaids had passed and giggled at Aesir.

   "What's on your mind?" A soft voice asked

Loki swore he had never sat up quicker than in this moment.

   "What's wrong, you look like you've seen a ghost." Astri asked, "Is there something on my face?"

   "I didn't think you'd ever visit," Loki admitted crossing the cell to where the golden barrier separated them

   "I wasn't planning on visiting today. I was going to make you sweat it out for a few more weeks but Volstagg was driving me insane and I needed a break." She explained

   "What did he do that's annoying you so much?" Loki asked

   "He keeps beating me at this Midgardian game Thor showed all of us." Astri sighed

Loki felt his mouth twitch slightly into a smile. Even though he wanted to be mad at her for not seeing him sooner, he was, as usual, finding it to be impossible to be angry with her.

   "I also brought this..." Astri said pushing a tray of food through a designated spot in the barrier.

   "Aren't you hungry?" Loki asked

   "No, Thor and I have been eating our suppers together for the past year and I swear spending time around him has fattened me up. It's like his huge stomach is affecting me too." Astri admitted

   "I think you look great." Loki complimented, he felt jealousy roar in his chest at the idea of Astri sitting across from Thor in her chambers, laughing at jokes and eating her favorite cakes.

   "Aesir said that a few days ago. I'm sure you already knew that though. You know you're not entirely undetected going through my mind like that at night. You show up in my dreams and that's how I know you're searching my memories, seeing what I've been doing with my days." Astri said

   "Anyone has a right to know what their best friend is up to. And how else would I know when I thought you had resolved to never see me again." Loki countered, surprised that she was able to sense him.

   "Oh please, you never thought that. You knew I'd show eventually." Astri knowingly said

Damn, she knew him well.

   "Has it occurred to you that maybe I missed you?" Loki asked honestly

   "It's crossed my mind. Although I'd like to think that you don't since then I'd feel guilty about not spending my every moment with you." Astri said

   "Like we used to?" He asked

   "Like we used to." Astri parroted with a soft smile that made Loki's heart beat just a little quicker.

Silence fell as he stared at the girl across from him. While she claimed to be fattening up with his "brother", he swore she had lost weight. Perhaps it was the lighting or maybe her dress was ill-fitting? No. Astri was definitely smaller than usual, her arms were normally more defined with muscle than they were now, exposed by a soft yellow gown she wore.

   "You're staring again," Astri said

   "I haven't seen you since the cage on Midgard." He reminded "Forgive me if I'm trying to commit your face to memory. I don't know when you'll visit again."

   "Maybe I will, maybe I won't," Astri said wistfully

She seemed sadder. As if someone had snuffed out her firey spirit Loki had come to love over the years.

   "Would you be able to come tomorrow?" He asked

   "What's in it for me?" She coyly asked

   "I'll read to you for as long as you'd like." Loki promised.

   "You're just tired of being bored in there," Astri said

   "Oh, quite the opposite I'm having a wonderful time here." Loki lied

   "You're not the only one going through their best friend's minds when they sleep" Astri smirked

When in the Nine Realms had she been doing that? Loki felt his smile falter as Astri laughed

   "By the way, beyond your obvious boredom, your dreams of me undressing and then bathing are quite erotic. I feel bad for your hand, and the other prisoners." Astri laughed

That explains the dream he'd been having for the past week.

   "You should not be going through my mind like that." He scolded, feeling his face redden

   "Oh, and that gives you permission to go through mine?" She questioned

   "What you saw is personal." He hissed, embarrassed at her knowledge of him

   "Whatever you say, Loki." She laughed

God he missed that sound, it warmed the air around him and sent a smile to his face.

   "I'll see you tomorrow. I hope whatever book you have is worth my time." Astri said standing

   "You're leaving already?" Loki asked following her as she walked.

    "It's getting late, I had a long day of losing to Volstagg. Plus I'm sure you need some alone time with your dreams of me." She teased

Loki felt his face go red, he was so embarrassed he bet even his ears were red.

   "What a nice color on you, Loki!" Astri complimented before walking away

Loki sighed and watched Astri walk off, she was going to kill him one day. The funny thing was he'd be perfectly fine with it, dying for her no matter how ridiculous the reason.

Astri had barely closed the door to her chambers before Thor had her jumping out of her skin.

   "How is he?" Thor asked

   "Don't scare me like that ever again."  Astri glared looking at Thor who was reclined on her bed

   "Why? It's so fun." Thor smiled

    "He's fine. He's bored and just as Loki as he has ever been." Astri said

Thor nodded as Astri walked to her vanity and began removing her jewelry and pulling pins from her hair.

   "Aesir came calling when you were with Loki." He said

   "Really? What did he want? I just saw him two days ago." She said

   "Well, he left these." Thor gestured to a large red vase of flowers "I put them in water, no need to thank me."

Astri rolled her eyes, she definitely wasn't going to thank him.

   "He say anything to go along with them?" She asked

   "Well, he said his mother was going to make the almond cakes you liked last time and he said he wanted to take a horse ride through the forest in a few days time." Thor said

   "How nice, I'll have to tell him I accept," Astri said picking her brush up

   "Don't you hate red flowers, and you don't even like almond cakes, everyone knows you prefer lemon." Thor pointed out

   "Maybe I've changed," Astri said

She looked at Thor through the mirror who gave her a 'Are you serious?' stare.

   "Okay, you got me, maybe I didn't tell him those things." She groaned

   "They seem like important things," Thor said

   "Pfft.... no." Astri laughed nervously, when did Thor become so observant?

   Silence fell over the pair as Astri brushed through her hair and every few seconds glanced at Thor who seemed to be admiring her patterned bedspread.

   "Did Loki ask about me?" Thor asked

Astri thought about lying to him to make him feel better. But what good were feelings if they came from lies that would just hurt later down the road?

   "He didn't. Our conversation was rather trivial today." Astri admitted

   "Ah. Okay." Thor said

   "I'm going back tomorrow night. Maybe he'll ask about you. If he does I'll tell him all good things." She said truthfully

   "You better." Thor smiled

   "I should really get ready to sleep so if you could you know...leave," Astri said, a bit rudely

   "I came to you to talk about something more important than Loki and Aesir," Thor said ignoring her request.

   "And that is?" Astri asked turning to him

   "My father has said that I am too taken with Jane. He's pointed out that I'm better served with what is in front me me here." Thor started

   "He better not be suggesting we court," Astri interjected, worriedly

Thor's silence was her answer.

   "We are not getting married. I would rather die." Astri groaned

   "That was rather rude." Thor pointed out "You don't have to worry I'm not telling you this because I want to court you. I'm telling you because I don't think he's right, I want to be with Jane but I also want to do my duty to Asgard."

   "You know you're not king yet," Astri said, relieved that Thor wasn't interested in her.

   "What does that have to do with Jane?" He asked

   "It means that you should go out and live. Who cares what Odin thinks is best?" Astri smiled

   "It's irresponsible." Thor pointed out

   "When has Thor Odinson ever cared about responsibility?" Astri laughed

   "Well there was that time I brought my brother back because he tried to take over Midgard." Thor pointed out

Okay he had her there.

   "I am sure whatever is meant to happen will happen. If you end up with Jane, great! If not...well we aren't getting married but there's lots of other eligible maidens!" Astri said

   "I suppose you are right..." Thor said

   "I'm always right." She smiled "Now, get off my bed and leave so I can sleep, Volstaggs victories and Loki's silver tongue have worn me out."

Thor's eyebrow raised at the last statement from Astri.

"Astri! You don't want to court me yet you sneak around with my brother while he is locked away under the castle?! I ought to tell the whole kingdom!" He gasped, feigning a scandalized face.

   "I didn't mean it like that, you idiot! I meant his wordy conversation is exhausting! Just go to your own room!" She blushed trying to pull him out of the bed.

Thor laughed and continued to laugh at her reddened face as Astri shoved him out the door and proceeded to slam it in his face. The Odinson brothers were surely going to drive Astri insane one of these days and hopefully, it wouldn't be for another thousand years.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes movie has changed my entire life. Suzanne Collins cooked again.

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[mirageofthecrystal]

Junelezen 2022 - Day 9 I Floor the Horde

"Vengeance is a festering wound, spreading its rots the longer it is allowed to persist. Hatred is a plague, in the way that it can infect all others who come in contact with it, succumbing to it, and letting it consume them, lest they partake in a salve of mercy and compassion. And love is something intangible, indescribable, and yet when you know its touch, it is a feeling most undeniable. And by the blade of loss, which can cut through the bonds of love and life with a swiftness, can all good things be turned rotten, bringing forth an era of pain and sorrow.

These words, these thoughts, these feelings, they are a tangled web nestled within my mind as I recount the struggles of my people, finally ended with third death brought down upon mighty and relentless Nidhogg. We treat with dragons as friends and possible allies for the first time in a thousand years, accepting our role in their pain and how our utter betrayal consigned us to our lengthy doom. Each of us now must carry the torch forward to mend broken bonds that could have carried us high from the earth and towards the heavens, am place where man and dragon might have united to greater purpose.

Much have I waxed and waned of these events, both the distant past and those in more recent memory. But despite my own small role in the tumultuous tale of this war, it is only the dragons of Dravania whose timeless memories truly known the pain we have wrought. Even our foe, so possessed by his hatred that he would consign us all to doom, only acted as he did because the pain of his loss felt as if it had happened only yesterday, when none in our ranks were alive to even maintain a notion of what our actions truly meant. And only in this retrospect can I look upon Nidhogg's hatred with a lack of mine own, for I truly do believe that if mine own flesh and blood were torn asunder for lust of power, I also would spill the blood of any and all whom I could deem culpable.

The blood of Ratatoskr may as well be the blood of my own sister, and in placing myself in Nidhogg's stead do I know a mere fraction of his fury within my own imaginings. And now that he is finally consigned to the abyss, his eyes rent from the vessel of the once Azure Dragoon, I do hope that he has found peace rather than revenge, and knows that there are those among us who truly wish to atone for the sins of our ancestors. It would bring him no comfort, no closure, no assurance of the brighter tomorrow that he wishes for, but truly I would wish my people's greatest foe the utmost peace and tranquility in whatever lay beyond this life for him.

We have all lost, and some of us have loved, over the course of the fighting. Our nation has been rotted to the core by the very same virtues that turned the Horde's talons against us, a legacy of hatred and bloodlust based on concealed truths and passionate zealotry. Each time we take a step towards the future, it seems we stumble, for calamity and destruction always seems to follow in the wake of prosperity in progress. Perhaps this time can be different. Perhaps by mending our relationship with the dragons, with the Eorzean Alliance, with those we once called friends and allies across the boundless sea of time, Ishgard can capture new prosperity. Perhaps we can shine as a beacon of what is possible, rather than be consumed by darkness.

As I had sat within Penderghast Manor for the first time in years, before a crackling fire with an old book in my hand, I knew not the breadth of the legacy this day would spawn. All I knew was that I had returned home, had been welcomed back with open arms and concealed scorn. I saw my family again, tears in my mother's eyes and something like a shade of pride in my father's smile, a man who would never have been proud of the person I wanted to be. All of us bore our own wounds, and it was up to each of us to will them to mend, so that together we could be stronger, and that strength could spread in the same way as vile hate and the contempt of vengeance.

I supped upon fine foods, drank aged-brandy, and slept upon a bed of feather and silken sheets. But it was none of these materiel comforts that made me feel complete inside. It was, rather, the path I had walked to reach this destination, which had also served as a new beginning. I left these halls unsure of myself, of my path, of my future, and returned with a blossoming fierceness in my heart to set the world's wrongs right, to be a hero not by the deeds told in books and tales, but by smallest compassions and true, determinable change which could transform the world into a better place."

- Excerpt from the personal journal and accounts of Ser Faiolan Penderghast, Knight of the Heaven's Ward

((Still like four days behind but I'm just so tired and doing my best!))

[fatehbaz]

It is spring in Houston, which means that each day the temperature rises and so does the humidity. The dampness has darkened the flower bed, and from the black mulch has emerged what looks like a pile of snotty scrambled eggs [...]. I recognize this curious specimen as the aethalial state of Fuligo septica, more commonly known as “dog vomit slime mold.” Despite its name, it’s not actually a mold -- not any type of fungus at all -- but rather a myxomycete (pronounced MIX-oh-my-seat), a small, understudied class of creatures that occasionally appear in yards and gardens as strange, Technicolor blobs. Like fungi, myxomycetes begin their lives as spores, but when a myxomycete spore germinates and cracks open, a microscopic amoeba slithers out. [...] When the amoeba encounters another amoeba with whom it is genetically compatible, the two fuse, joining chromosomes and nuclei [...], growing ever larger, until at the end of its life, it transforms into an aethalia, a “fruiting body” that might be spongelike in some species, or like a hardened calcium deposit in others, or, as with Stemonitis axifera, grows into hundreds of delicate rust-colored stalks. [...]

These creatures exist on every continent and almost everywhere people have looked for them: from Antarctica, where Calomyxa metallica forms iridescent beads, to the Sonoran Desert, where Didymium eremophilum clings to the skeletons of decaying saguaro cacti [...]. Throughout their lives, myxomycetes only ever exist as a single cell, inside which the cytoplasm always flows -- out to its extremities, back to the center. When it encounters something it likes, such as oatmeal, the cytoplasm pulsates more quickly. If it finds something it dislikes, like salt, quinine, bright light, cold, or caffeine, it pulsates more slowly [...]. It can solve mazes in pursuit of a single oat flake, and later, can recall the path it took to reach it. [...]

How do you classify a creature such as this?

In the ninth century, Chinese scholar Twang Ching-Shih referred to a pale yellow substance that grows in damp, shady conditions as kwei hi, literally “demon droppings.” In European folklore, slime mold is depicted as the work of witches, trolls, and demons -- a curse sent from a neighbor to spoil the butter and milk. In Carl Linnaeus’s Species Plantarum -- a book that aspires to list every species of plant known at the time (nearly seven thousand by the 1753 edition) -- he names only seven species of slime molds. Among those seven we recognize Fuligo in the species he calls Mucor septicus (“rotting mucus”), which he classifies, incorrectly, as a type of fungus. [...]

These “ladders” or “scales of ascent,” in turn, inspired the “Great Chain of Being” -- the [...] worldview central to European thought from the end of the Roman Empire through the Middle Ages, that ordered all of creation from lowest to highest [...]. Over time, Linnaeus revised his classifications of Homo sapiens, naming “varieties” that at first corresponded to what he saw as the four geographic corners of the planet, but which became hierarchical, assigned different intellectual and moral value based on phenotypes and physical attributes. The idea that humans could and should be ordered -- that some were superior to others, that this superiority had a physical as well as social component -- was deeply embedded in many previous schema. But Linnaeus’s taxonomy, unlike the systems that came before, gave these prejudices the appearance of objectivity, of being backed by scientific proof. When Darwin’s On the Origin of Species was published in 1859, it was on the foundation of this “science,” which had taught white Europeans to reject the idea of evolution unless it crowned them in glory.

But the history of taxonomic classification has always been about establishing hierarchy [...].

I did not learn until college about a taxonomic category that superseded kingdom, proposed in the 1970s by biologists Carl Woese and George Fox and based on genetic sequencing, that divided life into three domains: Bacteria, Eukarya, and Archaea, a recently discovered single-celled organism that has survived in geysers and swamps and hydrothermal vents at the bottom of the ocean for billions of years. 

Perhaps a limit of our so-called intelligence is that we cannot fathom ourselves in the context of time at this scale, and that so many of us fail, so consistently, to marvel at any lives but our own. [...]

A few years ago, near a rural village in Myanmar, miners came across a piece of amber containing a fossilized Stemonitis slime mold dating from the mid-Cretaceous period. Scientists were thrilled by the discovery, because few slime mold fossils exist, and noted that the 100-million-year-old Stemonitis looks indistinguishable from the one oozing around forests today. [...]

One special ability of slime molds that supports this possibility is their capacity for cryptobiosis: the process of exchanging all the water in one’s body for sugars, allowing a creature to enter a kind of stasis for weeks, months, years, centuries, perhaps even for millennia. [...] The only other species who have this ability are the so-called “living fossils” such as tardigrades and Notostraca (commonly known as water bears and tadpole shrimp, respectively). [...]

In laboratory environments, researchers have cut Physarum polycephalum into pieces and found that it can fuse back together within two minutes. Or, each piece can go off and live separate lives, learn new things, and return later to fuse together, and in the fusing, each individual can teach the other what it knows, and can learn from it in return.

Though, in truth, “individual” is not the right word to use here, because “individuality” [...] doesn’t apply to the slime mold worldview. A single cell might look to us like a coherent whole, but that cell can divide itself into countless spores, creating countless possible cycles of amoeba to plasmodium to aethalia, which in turn will divide and repeat the cycle again. It can choose to “fruit” or not, to reproduce sexually or asexually or not at all, challenging every traditional concept of “species,” the most basic and fundamental unit of our flawed and imprecise understanding of the biological world. As a consequence, we have no way of knowing whether slime molds, as a broad class of beings, are stable or whether climate change threatens their survival, as it does our own. Without a way to count their population as a species, we can’t measure whether they are endangered or thriving. Should individuals that produce similar fruiting bodies be considered a species? What if two separate slime molds do not mate but share genetic material?

The very idea of separateness seems antithetical to slime mold existence. It has so much to teach us.

-------

Headline and all text published by: Lacy M. Johnson. “What Slime Knows.” Orion Magazine. August 2021. Photos by Alison Pollack and published alongside article.

[caretaker-au]

CHAPTER 10

Bright light spilled into Chara’s vision as the world manifested around them. Their body—heavy and fragile—struggled and dropped them to their knees.

As they fell forward Chara caught themselves with their hands. They stared out at their small, feeble fingers that were splayed on the lavender colored floor, each digit tipped with a dull, flat fingernail. Where were they? And what was that awful pounding sensation? They pulled a hand to their chest. That’s right. Their heart. No longer made from monster magic, Chara’s human flesh felt comparatively sluggish and dense. The body they were never supposed to return to. Chara crossed their arms and gripped themself tight. Fierce emotion flooded through their body: a touch of grief for their own death, relief for their survival, and most of all, rage.

“Asriel…” they breathed, their voice a shaking whisper, “How could you?”

After everything they had done, after all that they sacrificed for him, Asriel had betrayed them. Again. As he always had. It didn’t matter how hard Chara worked or how many timelines they chased, their wretched partner threw away everything they had to protect accursed humans. This time was the worst, however. Asriel’s betrayal ended in orchestrating a shared execution.

“You really hate me that much?” Chara’s voice was little more than a shaking growl. They wanted to scream, to declare that they wouldn’t allow it, that they would find someone else who would respect them and carry out their plan. But they didn’t believe it.

“Chara?”

A small voice broke through the fury. Chara looked up and saw them. A child hesitating in a stone doorway just ahead of them: Frisk.

The child’s expression relaxed into a smile, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Anger flashed across Chara’s face. They pulled themselves to their feet, wavering slightly. They staggered towards Frisk with heavy steps, increasing their speed into a run. Frisk’s eyes widened for a moment before they scowled. The child braced themself and held out their arms, “Chara, stop!”

The caretaker grabbed Frisk by the collar and wrenched them up against the doorframe. The kid’s teeth chattered as their skull thudded against the stone behind them.

“Why?!” Chara barked, hatred seeping from their every pore, “You took everything from us! Our lives, our future, the salvation of all monsters!” Frisk turned their head away, clenching their eyes tight as Chara berated them. “Nothing was stopping you from leaving. So why?” Chara demanded, “Why did you return? To mock me? To torment me?”

“No…” Frisk answered quietly, “To save you.”

Their answer didn’t make any sense. Chara stared back, unable to even articulate a response. Instead, they slammed Frisk against the wall again. “Liar!” Chara cried out, “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!” Frisk squirmed and pulled on Chara’s hands to no avail, “Escape isn’t worth anyone’s life. Not even yours, Chara!”

Chara’s fists clenched tighter around the slack of Frisk’s sweater. With a heave, they tossed the child to the side. Frisk splayed across the floor with a grunt.

“You are wrong,” Chara huffed, “And you… are a fool. Did you not learn the first time? I don’t care about your mercy.”

Frisk pulled themself to their feet. They straightened and returned Chara’s frenzied glare with a quiet gaze.

Chara continued, “I will not stop. This time I’ll take the souls, ignore you, and escape to the Surface. There, Asriel and I… we’ll…” Chara trailed off as Asriel’s face crossed their mind again. They sank to the floor, the air feeling heavier and heavier. “That traitor… he will never… he will never cooperate.”

The realization was like a knife twisting in their gut. Even with his betrayal, Asriel was always the most devoted. No one would be able to replace him. Despair crept into their heart as Chara realized they needed him more than Asriel needed them back. Chara had considered Frisk their greatest opponent, but it was Asriel who truly stood in their way.

Chara’s vision swam, so they turned their head away from Frisk, their hair falling in front of their face. Knowing the human was seeing them like this made their skin crawl, and they wished the ground would swallow them up. As Chara spoke, they held their breath to keep their voice from shaking. “Leave.”

Frisk hesitated, surely coming up with a response. Mockery? Pity? Chara wouldn’t bear it.

“Out of my sight! Now!” Chara shouted; their roar made the air tremble. Frisk didn’t wait to be told again. The sound of scuffling footsteps faded from earshot, and soon Chara was alone in the silence once more.

Finally, Chara let the tears fall from their eyes. They were disgusted with the way their breath hitched and sobbed no matter how much they tried to stifle it. Asriel did this to them. Asriel would have to pay.

Chara indulged in several minutes of sickening self pity before they finally wiped their face. Looking around, it took Chara a moment before they registered just where they were. They were deep within the Ruins, just outside the chamber Frisk had fallen into. But that didn’t make sense. From Chara’s experience, time could only be turned back to the most recently fixed point. Frisk should have been returned to just before their battle, perhaps in the jail. Instead, here they were, back to the moment they first met. Was Frisk not confined to the same limits of time travel?

Chara shook their head. They couldn't think about this now. Only one thing mattered: Asriel’s punishment. Drawing the will to stand, Chara pushed themselves upright to follow the child.

In one way or another, Frisk had made it past all the traps, through the house, and—presumably—out the exit. It was for the best; Chara couldn’t stand to cross paths with the child again. Inside the house, they paused to collect a large padlock they had stored in a table drawer. It was heavy and nearly the size of a text book with ornate designs engraved across it. The lock was imbued with abjuration magic, made specifically to lock the Ruins after Asriel was nearly killed by the human years ago. The lock would render any door unbreachable by human or monster, and Chara held the only key.

Chara carried the device with them into the basement, down the hall, and to the large exterior doors that lead to the snow draped forests beyond. The doors were slightly ajar, revealing a set of footprints that dotted the snow off into the distance.

Chara sighed, taking one last look at the snowy view, before pulling the doors shut. For decades, the lock had only been placed on the outside, removed only when Chara came through to patrol the ruins or escort monsters between Home and Snowdin. Today, for the first time, the doors would be locked from the inside with Chara within. They looped the padlock through the handles of the door, and when they snapped it into place, the doors shuddered and clamped together with a jolt. Chara traced a fingernail down the seam of the two doors. No one would be passing through without their permission.

Confronting Asriel directly was not an option. After all, any progress made with Asriel could be undone by Frisk. Not to mention they weren’t even sure what they could tell him. Asriel’s traitorous inclinations were buried deep into his core, waiting until Chara was at their most desperate to stab them in the back.

But there was one tactic that Frisk would be unable to interfere with. Silence. If Chara withdrew to the Ruins without a word, Asriel would surely blame himself for Chara’s sudden absence. Chara knew Asriel well: he’d beg for Chara’s return and apologize for things he didn’t do, all the while ignorant of his traitorous compulsions. Cruel, perhaps, but nothing was as cruel as what he had done in those erased timelines.

Chara checked their phone. They already had one message from Asriel inquiring as to when they’d return home. The caretaker marked it as read before slipping it back into their pocket.

---

As predicted, Asriel came to the door and stayed all night long. Knocking, calling, pleading-- Chara relished each pathetic attempt at reconciliation. He deserved to be confused, heartbroken, and alone, just as Chara was. Over the course of the day Chara received messages from Asgore, Toriel, and many other monsters. They all asked the same thing: Are you okay? Do you want to talk? We found this human named Frisk, do you know them? Even Muffet demanded an explanation. Chara would have to deal with her later.

Leaving everyone wondering and begging for answers was the only power Chara had left. Word was getting to the monsters in Home as well, evidenced by the additional messages piling up on their phone. Chara ignored them too. Eventually they would realize they were trapped on this side of the door as well, unwilling hostages in Chara’s scheme.

No matter. The monsters deserved to be trapped. Every one of them was just like Asriel: eager to please and sentimental to a fault. Chara had devoted their entire life to serving them and in return they never offered to help collect the souls that would free them. In fact, Chara had to resort to time travel to push them in the right direction for just an ounce of support. They all deserve to rot in this dark, claustrophobic hell.

---

“So you just let a human walk on by?” Muffet inquired in a sing-song voice, “That doesn’t seem much like the great caretaker at all!”

The two of them were sitting in her parlor, each on a lavish chair. A full tea set complete with baked goods sat on a low table between them, though Chara knew better than to partake in it. Spider legs stuck out of the scones like coarse hairs, and they couldn’t even imagine what the tea had been steeped with.

“Yes. Well.” Chara said, looking down at their lap, “There is not much I can do about it now.”

“Oh yes, I imagine the sweet thing is the new royal favorite, aren’t they?” Muffet’s fanged smile turned up in a mocking grin, “The queen has always had a soft spot for filthy little strays. You know that better than anyone, right, dearie?”

Chara bit back a retort. With time no longer under their control, they had to be careful while inside of her lair. It had been a week since they sealed the Ruins, and Muffet was the only person they had spoken to since. The crime lord wasn’t their first choice of confidant, of course, but she had been insisting on meeting and they knew better than to reject her invitation.

“I suppose so,” they responded softly.

Muffet giggled to herself, then suddenly reached for the plate of cookies between them. It was only after she grabbed a couple treats that Chara realized they had flinched when she moved. They tried to relax but the attempt only made them more tense.

“So, is that why you locked the exit? Had a bit of a falling out with the in-laws?”

“Something like that.” Chara frowned, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh of course, a lady like me wouldn’t dream of indulging in distasteful gossip! Instead, I have a business proposition~”

Chara straightened. In their current circumstance, they didn’t have much in the way of influence or leverage.

“How can I be of service?” they asked.

“I want to relocate,” Muffet paused to bite into one of her cookies. It sounded... crunchy. “You see, the Ruins are awfully drafty, and the cold isn’t good for my constitution. I was thinking about moving in the next year or so, but now that you’ve so... graciously sealed us all in here, I predict the traffic in my shop will be slowing down considerably.”

“Understood.” Chara nodded, “I will make an exception for you and open the d—”

“I wasn’t finished, Chara.” Muffet said, her voice lowering. There was a tense pause before she smiled again, “I want a limousine~”

“A—A what?” Chara asked, incredulous.

“A heated limousine that will chauffer my employees and I all the way to Hotland,” she gestured to the spiders that skittered between the tea cups, “A necessary luxury to ensure we make it safely through the biting cold of Snowdin. Should be a simple task for a monarch, correct?”

“Of course. Leave it to me.” Chara smiled, “Is that all?”

“Not much for business, are you, Chara?” Muffet smirked, “This is where you negotiate the terms of the agreement~”

“No need. I am happy to do this as a gesture of goodwill.” Chara outstretched their hand—it wasn’t trembling anymore, thankfully—and Muffet gave it a dainty shake.

Once Chara was safely out of Muffet’s lair, they heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow they had managed to leave in one piece despite Muffet’s attempts to bait them. Now they just had to figure out how to serve her outrageous demands. Chara fished their phone out of their pocket, dismissed several dozen missed calls and text notifications, and opened their address book. They were going to need to call in some discreet favors.

---

One month had passed since they sealed the Ruins. It wasn’t easy, but Chara managed to arrange for Muffet’s departure without alerting the Dreemurrs. Eventually, the royals found out the Ruins door had been briefly opened which led to a fresh barrage of calls, messages, and knocking on the resealed door, all of which Chara ignored, of course.

Chara walked the streets of Home late at night, the crystals in the ceiling sparkling above. They could feel the eyes of the monsters on them, but after weeks of Chara ignoring and scowling in return, the monsters had given up on approaching them. Wordlessly, they did their weekly shopping at the local market. As a member of the royal family, Chara had never needed to pay for any necessities, and it seemed the benefits even extended here. It was only fair compensation, of course. After all, Chara was still serving the undeserving monsters by patrolling the Ruins every day for human threats.

---

“Ugh, really?” Chara muttered. They were nearly done with their patrol, having reached the large trap of spikes that was circled with a moat. Chara pushed down on the edge of the spike panel’s pressure plate with their foot, but the spikes failed to retract completely, the deadly points standing out by a few inches. It wasn’t a good sign: the springs inside were starting to give out. And if the springs snapped while Chara was standing above it…

Chara shuddered. They had witnessed that messy result and they didn’t care to experience it first hand. Typically, Chara would order replacement parts and perform maintenance themself, but the machinist that created the pieces was in New Home. Unsealing the door again was out of the question.

“Of course this would happen now,” Chara grumbled. They moved their foot off the plate and the spikes shot back into place. How many more compressions would it tolerate before it broke? Before Frisk came to the Underground, Chara could risk it and undo any unpleasant accidents, but if the past five months were any indication, Frisk was not nearly as eager to manipulate time. In fact, time had been rolled back only two times since Chara let the child go.

It was inconceivable. How could Frisk resist the urge to erase the inevitable little mistakes that ruined every day? Embarrassing moments, broken tea cups, scraped knees… all could be fixed in an instant with the right application of their power. To have such power and yet choose to carry the weight of their failures—it defied reason.

More importantly, if Chara suffered a tragic accident while isolated here, no one would come to their rescue… whether through time manipulation or otherwise.

“Unfortunate.” Chara said to themself with a resigned sigh, “I will have to dismantle them. All of them.” They turned around and headed back home. While they didn’t have access to their machinist anymore, they did have a few hand tools and plenty of time.

---

Eight months had passed since Chara had let Frisk go. As they walked the path of the now defanged Ruins, they revised and repeated their old plan over and over. If they could just get one more soul to replace Frisk, they would have the seven required to break the barrier and purify the Surface. The only thing missing, of course, was a willing monster to absorb them.

They reached the end of their patrol: the entrance to the Underground for lost, unlucky humans. The chamber was empty, as it had been every day since Frisk fell in. Chara walked into the center of the room and stared up into the vacant darkness looming above. One hundred years had passed on the Surface and only eight humans had fallen in that time. How long would it take for another to arrive? Ten years? Thirty? Without the help of their powers Chara could very well die before seeing the next human soul.

Chara turned to leave, but did a double take as they glimpsed a glimmer of gold on the ground. They kneeled and pushed the grass aside to reveal a small yellow bud, barely beginning to open.

“It cannot be…” Chara breathed, “A Golden Flower?”

Golden Flowers were common on the Surface, but had no presence in the Underground. Chara was so sure of this that they had incorporated them into their original plan over 20 years ago. By requesting to see the wild flowers on their deathbed, Chara could ensure Asriel would cross the barrier with their corpse in tow.

Or at least, that was what should have happened.

Chara clenched their teeth at the bitter memory. It was the first of many perfect plans ruined by Asriel’s cowardice. The caretaker grasped the plant and ripped it out of the ground by the root.

Immediately, Chara felt a pang of regret. They stared down at the pathetic thing. Their favorite flower, somehow growing in this dark, sunless prison. When had it taken root? Did some seeds blow in from the Surface? Or were they brought in by a... passenger?

Chara shook their head. Regardless of how it was introduced to the Underground, it was now a part of the Ruins—their Ruins. It didn’t deserve to suffer for Asriel’s mistakes. Reflexively, Chara attempted to turn back time, but nothing happened.

With a sigh, they returned the flower to where it was and buried its roots back into the soil. The stem was bent and it wouldn’t stay upright, but weeds were resilient. With a little help, it might still make it.

---

Chara hesitated before their latest masterpiece, knife in hand. Resting on a serving plate was a beautiful, hand crafted chocolate ganache cake. Strawberries perched on top of the silky dark topping, and the intoxicating aroma filled the house. Somehow, even without their powers, it had turned out almost too perfect to eat.

Emphasis on "almost". Carefully, Chara slid the knife through the decadent construction and placed a slice on their plate. They paused to admire the moist cross section before sliding a fork through the end and taking a bite.

Absolute bliss.

"Not bad for a humble birthday cake," Chara said to themself. They were thirty-seven today. Chara looked across the dining table into the empty living room. The only sound was the fire crackling in the hearth, emitting heat for a one person abode. They wished this house wasn’t nearly identical to the one in New Home; the similarities made it too easy to imagine Toriel in her chair, Asgore in the kitchen, and Asriel leaning on the table with his elbows, big goofy grin on his face. The Dreemurrs loved birthdays, always spending weeks preparing for a large and lavish party.

This was the first birthday they had spent alone since they were thirteen. They had forgotten how miserable it could be.

Chara checked their phone. They had over one hundred notifications that had come in just today. They scrolled through to find the only contact that mattered: Asriel.

“Happy birthday, Chara!!” the message read, “Mom and Dad and I are thinking about you lots! We even got you a gift, so I hope we can give it to you one day! Wherever you are, take good care of yourself, okay?” A line of party and heart related emojis followed.

Chara read the message over and over. Asriel’s texts would always fill them with disgust and hatred, but not today. Instead Chara just felt… lonely. It was a pathetic, shameful feeling, but a true feeling nonetheless. Despite all the ways Asriel had disrespected them, Chara couldn’t hide from the fact that they missed him.

The caretaker allowed themself to vocalize a thought they had been pushing out of their mind for months. “Maybe…” Chara spoke, their soft voice breaking the quiet, “Maybe it is time to go home.”

They sighed, resigning themself. The eternal silent treatment was never a realistic plan, and while Asriel was the intended subject of the punishment, it was unpleasant to Chara, too. Scrolling up through his messages, Asriel had sent hundreds upon hundreds over the past year begging them to “just talk”. All had gone unanswered. The confusion and desperation in those messages were clear; he was perfectly primed for a reconciliation.

But Chara wanted more than reconciliation. More important than companionship was freedom. Freedom not just for undeserving monsters, but most importantly, freedom for themself.

“There is still a way,” Chara muttered to themself, “I simply… pushed Asriel too quickly. Asriel always responded better to a softer approach.” Chara stood, pacing.

“We will delay soul fusion until the end of my natural life. Nothing barbaric or tragic. My dying wish will be to live on within him. He cannot turn down my final request.”

Chara nodded, they could see it now. After a few decades, Chara would peacefully pass from their old, frail body into Asriel’s strong, youthful one, a benefit of his species’ long life span.

“Then we gather the rest of the souls. But not right away. Asriel will need some time to adjust to sharing a vessel with me. But he will with time. Perhaps even the child can be convinced to willingly donate their soul to the cause.” Even though Frisk wouldn’t be a child anymore, it was hard to imagine Frisk as anything but a meddling brat. Honestly, they’d probably still be a brat in thirty years.

“If not, that is... fine. The child can be suffered to live.” The decision was a reluctant one, but giving mercy to such an undeserving creature gave Chara a pleasant feeling of self-righteousness. After all, it didn’t really matter if Frisk lived or died. The important thing was purifying the Surface and breaking the barrier. One human would not make a difference.

“Yes. This will work.” A smile crept onto Chara’s face and their heart thrummed with excitement. They would return to Asriel, who would embrace them with utmost relief and joy. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Asriel had shown no signs of giving up on them.

Chara would enjoy a long life in the company of their loved ones until the day they would embrace their prophesied purpose as the Underground’s savior.

It would require patience, but their splendid utopia was once again within reach. They began planning their grand return.

chapter 10 // end

[ ✧ START ] [ « BACK ] [ NEXT CHAPTER » ]

[saturnsummer]

worthy.

When Sol gets a GPA of 2.02, the study group (and Joon Hwi) comes together to cheer her up. 

notes: another prompt by @thenerdywriter ! i wasn't sure if you meant it like this, but i hope you are satisfied! thank you for your prompt and your trust! i do apologise for the wait!

not much fluff or cliche romantic scenes, but just simple things that i hope when you read, remember your worth and never be defeated. you are worthy, loved and deserving to be appreciated. :) inbox always open!

for anyone who have sent prompts and asks, i thank you for your ideas! i have read through all your asks and am so excited to begin writing, but please understand if i can’t reply you as fast as i hoped! so sorry for this, i’ll try to address my inbox faster!! any mistakes or incorrect information will be taken responsible by me. enjoy!

edit: everyone, please don’t cry on this omg I’ve made 5 people comment their tears now and im terribly sorry for the tears.. I meant for this to be a light hearted story but looks like everyone is crying,, I’ll try not to make people cry now..

original prompt: where joon hwi and the rest of the gang shake some sense into her (sol a) about her self-esteem. 

words: 2787 words

Sol is downstairs at the lounge, holding a clear bottle of soju. She takes another swig from the plastic bottle, hoping that the alcohol can numb her heart like it does to her head. It burns, and she’s turning woozy, but she grumbles and takes another swig. 

2.02. She’s passed, at least. But she can’t help but feel upset. She wasn’t upset that she couldn’t score as well as Yeseul or BokGi, but upset that she’s satisfied with these low results. No one is going to hire her, even less offer an internship while looking at her track records. 

Sol worked her ass off for this exam. She nearly died, if it wasn’t for Yeseul’s reminders to eat. Even her cold stoned face roommate bothered to place bottles of water on her desk. Yet, after all this... 

“Why are you still up?” She hears Joon Hwi ask as he takes a seat next to her. She stays silent with a grim expression and turns away. Joon Hwi was the last person she wanted to see, especially when she’s in such a bad mod. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he catches her arm just as she’s about to chug her soju. 

“Everything.” She slurs. “You know I’m not even upset with my GPA? I’m upset of being happy with my shitty grades.” Joon Hwi sighs, attempting to grab her bottle away.

“I should have never came to study. I should have never tried to prove myself to be Dan!” She scolds louder. Sol knows she’s drunk in front of her best friend, but she can’t control herself. She doesn’t care. 

“Kang Sol...” Joon Hwi stands up, grabbing her bottle away from her. “You’re drunk. Go back.” 

“I don’t belong here, anyway.” Her slurs catch Joon Hwi in his steps. 

“I never once belonged with any of you. Being with all of you just drags you all further. I should just stop burdening you all with my questions and rot in a corner. Besides, no one would care.” She softly says, her voice filled with regret and guilt. 

Sol has always felt this way. Ever since she was young, Dan was always the star child. She got top grades while Sol got through in the middle rankings. Dan was always more popular, prettier, smarter. Sol learnt at a young age that no matter what, she would always be overshadowed by Dan. 

Thus, she learnt to be quiet. Only ask questions when she really needs to. Stick to familiar people. Only be loud when told to, and blend in in every situation. She learnt to depreciate herself, because no one appreciated her in the first place. 

Joon Hwi wants to shake her. He wants to write an entire dissertation on why Sol belongs to Hankuk. He wants to show her what he sees: a smart, caring, passionate lawyer-to-be. He wants to show her what he sees when she testified for Professor Yang in court. A confident, woman knowing her morals and rights.

“Kang Sol.” Joon Hwi says, pulling her up by her wrist. Sol pushes him away, but her touches are sloppy and weak. Sighing, Joon Hwi knows that it is useless to argue about her grades and her worth when she’s not even half conscious of what she’s doing. 

He grabs her coat lying on the couch, finding her phone and plans on calling Yeseul. But it’s past 1am, but he doesn’t want to trouble Yeseul. Sighing, he contemplates calling her roomie but reality smacks when he realises she’s home. Noticing how Sol is slowly nodding off, giving in to the fatigue, it leaves Joon Hwi not much of an option to carry her back.

Fishing the room key out from her coat, he takes special care in carrying her, sweeping his arm under her knee and lifting her slowly as to not disrupt her from falling asleep. The key card is in between his fingers as he slowly and quietly makes his way up to her dorm. He thanks the deities above that no one caught him or interrupted him. 

Tapping the key card, a standard ‘beep’, he pushes the door with his back, and takes care to get him and her into the dark room. He can barely see anything, especially since he has no hands to on the lights, but he makes out his way in the small room using the moonlight and what he can tell. 

Joon Hwi knows which side Sol sleeps, knowing from her stories that include her rolling from the bed up to the desk. By now, Sol was sleeping soundly, a slight snore escaping her. Gently, he sets her down on her bed and reaches to take her shoes off for her. Hanging up her coat that he placed on top of her whilst he was carrying her, he finally pulled the thick blanket over her.

But he didn’t leave just yet.

“I never once belonged with any of you.”

Sol’s words echoed in his head more than he thought it would. He stopped and bent down silently by her bed side, taking a few moments to wonder to himself just how and why does she feel so unworthy.

He grabs her bottle of water from her bag, before putting it next to her phone, which is on the table. Knelt on the floor, he observes the slow rise of her chest and the way her eyes flutter and nose twitch when Sol sleeps. Just how can someone like Sol think she’s any less than what he sees?

“You belong here in Hankuk. I’ll show you just why.” His whisper barely audible, as he brushes away a stray hair on her face. With that, he takes his leave and sneaks back to his dorm. (Without getting caught)

-----

The next day, after two painkillers and a big bowl of hangover soup (left mysteriously by someone at their pantry), Sol is headed to study group. She is running a few minutes early than their scheduled timing, but she’s surprised to find the group huddled in hushed whispers. 

“What are you all looking at?” Sol asks, as she sets her book at her usual corner opposite Joon Hwi. BokGi lets out a startled yelp and Yebeom clamps his mouth shut. Sol isn’t surprised to see Jiho crowded there, but is even more shocked to see Sol B crowded with them too. If it was anything, Sol B wouldn’t crowd around and discuss things, unless it concerned herself, or benefitted her grades.

“What...” Sol leans over and raises her eyebrows. Yeseul’s eyes dart nervously and she breaks into a smile. The rest of the group just shuffles back to their seats murmuring under their breath.

“Nothing, unnie! They were just discussing on what to order for lunch.” Yeseul says as she walks over to Sol and takes her bag and books from her, before setting it on the table. “Unnie, shall we get coffees?” Yeseul escorts her out of the room before Sol could react. Sol assumes that it’s due to her hangover that Yeseul is suggesting coffee, thus just following and getting a cold brew and assorted drinks for the others. 

When she returns, they distribute the drinks and start discussing on what to study. 

“Noona, do you have anything?” BokGi asks, a little too enthusiastically. Sol is taken aback and lost for words. She usually just follows whatever the rest want, since answering her questions will take hours. Joon Hwi gives a sympathetic smile. 

“How about you share with us about a recent case? Remember the one that Professor Kim liked in particular?” Joon Hwi suggests. Sol grows quiet. Her? The worst student? Sol let’s out an uncertain laugh.

“Ah, me? I rather my roomie shares. She did better than me.” Sol says, then prepares a fresh document for note taking on her laptop.

“I didn’t do well.” Sol B says quietly, her eyes emotionless as usual, leaning back into the chair. “You did the best. Go on.” Sol is stunned and just nods uncertainly. Taking out her case notes and her reports that she submitted, she nervously discusses the topic on hand. She sneaks Joon Hwi a couple of questioning stares but he only pretends to not catch her eyes.

Everyone is enthusiastic, asking questions and when Sol is stumped, they jump in to help her. They suggest ideas and Sol has never felt so energised by their energy before. She find it fishy how Joon Hwi just sits back and she can feel him smiling whenever she makes a point right or figures out a missing link.

An hour later, when they are done expanding on Sol’s case and discussing, they break for a late lunch together.  Yebeom enters the room with bags of food, as usual over ordering. As they pass out containers of jjampong and jjajamyeon, Sol’s eyes light up when she saw the only thing that mattered in the whole order: her beloved pickles, in doubled servings. 

What Sol doesn’t expect is for JiHo to dump his packet of pickles on her container of noodles. 

“JiHo-ah, why...” Sol is dumbfounded for a moment as JiHo opens his pack of noodles to stir. JiHo only pushes up his glasses. 

“You can have them, noona.” Sol is even more dumbfounded. This was the first time JiHo has called her noona. She didn’t care for the honourifics, and JiHo could call her by her full name for all she cared. But hearing those words from Seo JiHo’s mouth, just made her think everyone was utterly suspicious today.

“Okay, everyone is being weird. What is this?” Sol announces, hoping her tone came out fun, with no hints of anger. 

“Nothing! We just know you’ve been feeling stressed, so JiHo decided to give you his share of pickles, right?” BokGi quips up, as he dives into taking the sauce to pour over the tangsuyuk, before Yebeom and him argue over pouring or dipping. 

Sol, still feeling suspicious, breaks her chopsticks just as Joon Hwi picks up a pickle from her plastic saucer to put on her noodles. Her eyes dart from his chopstick to his face, but he just nods at her pickles, expressions hard to read.

Sol crunches on her pickles, but it does nothing to soothe the feeling that everyone was aware of something, but her. 

-----

The rest of the week was a puzzle piece that Sol could not fix together.

She woke up everyday to a new message by Joon Hwi, sometimes sending her funny videos, or a simple “let’s get through this together”. She woke up once to her roomie handing her breakfast and coffee. It just didn’t click in Sol’s head to see the cold Sol B hand her a sandwich and coffee.

Their group chat was undoubtedly noisy, but even more so now. Something in common was how the more chatty ones would ask Sol for advice or chat and strike noisy conversations. She was used to the chaos, but she definitely didn’t feel used to having the attention on her.

As the group had earned different internships from small and large firms, Sol was going to be left in school alone, still applying and hoping for one to come her way. Her study group knew about it, and instead continued to encourage her about it. They avoided talk on their internships, and actively tried to help Sol. While Sol was grateful, she couldn’t help but wish that they would just act normal and not worry about her.

She chose to meet them for breakfast on the day of their internships. The meal was noisy as usual as they ate their sandwiches and gimbaps. They were dressed smartly in their suits with their briefcases. Sol made a fuss over everyone looking smart on their first day.

“Hurry up and eat, you’re going to be late for your internship!” Sol scolded BokGi as he and Yebeom threw comments back and forth. Everyone was off for theirs and ready with their jackets and bags. Walking with them to the door, she couldn’t help but feel like a mom to her kids, sending them to school.

“Noona! Check your table later in the libra-” Yebeom gleefully mused before BokGi clamped his mouth shut and JiHo (with much irritation) smacked his head silently.

“What?” Sol asks, turning to Joon Hwi, who was turning redder by the second. Joon Hwi closes his eyes, the same way he does when he’s embarrassed and looks away from her.

“Listen to Yebeom and check the table.” He says, finally looking at her. “We’ll see you for dinner then.” Waving a quick goodbye, the group walked away from her towards the carpark where they separated to the bus stops or in the direction of the train station.

“O-Okay…” she mutters, still confused as she carries her books and bag to her usual table at the library. She would have went to sulk at Professor Kim’s office for a while, but she instead chose to head straight to study. Professor Kim had enough on her plate and she wasn’t ready just yet to face Professor Kim with her mood.

There, at her table, lies her stack of books.

Normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Huffing out, she slumps her bag on her table, gathering the post its on the bar above the table. Most of them were just plain comments, like how she had to stop slamming her pen into her hand (it distracted students) or move out of the library cause there aren't enough seats. Opening her book on civil code, she was ready to start drilling her head before meeting Professor Kim. 

Then she spots an envelope, hidden between the pages of the book.

Carefully, she picks it out and looks on the cream white paper, the only ink on it her name, written in neat handwriting. She could recognise Joon Hwi’s handwriting anywhere. A slight scoff escapes her lips and several students turn in annoyance. Realising that this was probably not the best place to be in, she grabs her books and bags (and the post its) and leaves the library. She heads to the empty study room, where she knows she’s be comfortable at.

Opening the flap, she slips out numerous slips of paper, varying degrees of length and sizes. Some words were neat, some were a little messy.

-----

To: Unnie <3

Sol-unnie, you know you’re smart, right? Your grades may not show that you are the best, but I know you are! Whenever I hear you discuss a case with the study group, I know you’re trying your best to memorise and improve. Don’t give up, unnie! I will support you till the end!

- Yeseul 

To: Sol-A noona

Yah, noona! You have to stop injuring yourself, okay? You gave us a really big scare the last time when you started nose bleeding in the midst of study group. Noona, don’t look at your grades anymore! If a man like me can get through law school so far pretty well, you can too! Fighting, noona! 

Noona~ you’re really talented. The fact that you scored so well during the criminal law test and managed to spot the comma just shows for amazing you are! Noona, don’t be discouraged... seeing you discouraged makes us sad too. Your favourite dongsaeng is here to help you! 

- BokGi and Yebeom 

To: Kang Sol-A

You can do it. Review your cases before classes. Get your internship.

-JiHo

To: Sol-A

Live up to your name, will you? And sleep on a regular schedule. 

- Roommate

To: Sol

Sunbae, remember me? Stop doubting yourself and trust yourself. You’re smarter than you know and fit for court. I will support you from wherever you are. I’m grateful for you, for supporting me all this time. I think Dan would be proud of you, and so will the cookie Byeol. 

Sol, you are worthy in my eyes. So stop undermining yourself. You belong in Hankuk next to me. You can’t give up now.

-Joon Hwi

-----

Sol lets a smile creep on her face as she lets a small blush rise to her face. Holding her letters to her heart, she closes her eyes, reminding herself of the past week and her friend’s efforts to cheer her on. She knew no doubt it had to be Joon Hwi who convinced everyone there to write for her despite their busy schedule. For even Sol B to help out and bother about her, it warmed her heart to have her support.

Picking her book, she pinned her hair up as she started drill into her book with a new found confidence, fuelled by her friends supporting her. But most importantly, she felt worthy. She felt loved. She felt confident. She was hopeful.

(Everyone thinks she’s worthy in their eyes, but one just thinks she’s perfect.)

[wincore]

sweet tooth | dong sicheng

pairing: vampire!sicheng x reader

words: 2.8k

summary: out of all the inconveniences a vampire boyfriend could pose, there’s about two tonight: a) him losing it at the next person who compliments his fangs, or b) you losing it at sicheng’s 100% blood alcohol content

genre: vampire!au, boyfriend!au, college!au, (tooth-rotting) fluff, comfort, humour

warning(s): mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, college halloween parties

song rec(s): candy - baekhyun // wish you were sober - conan gray

a/n: let’s pretend it’s halloween pls <3 also im sorry it’s so short and more drabble-ish but i wanted to write something gentle and comforting so!!! yeah ^^ also there is no plot. eep.

It’s two in the morning.

Or rather, it feels like two in the morning. 

A frat party is a horrible substitute for an actual Halloween party. The alcohol content is through the roof and the number of pairs making out is enough to make you feel queasy. You never knew horror themes had the innate ability to make people so flagrantly horny—you’re half glad you’re not, god forbid, single. Most of your friends were too busy, however, to organize the close-knit party you usually have each year—so here you are, with an invitation from a friend of a friend (of a friend). Your boyfriend might be the only one feeling more out of place than you are.

You glance at Sicheng from the pool table, the cup frozen against his lips while his eyes scan the room from corner to corner. You don’t do crowds and neither does he; though he does have the unwitting ability to charm any crowd he’s in. You’re not quite sure if he’s still unaware of that.

You watch as a girl you can easily recognize from your campus approach him, all smiles and giggles. She says something and you scoff, almost completely certain about what it is she said.

Sicheng might be unaware of it—but you are, and painfully so.

She looks at him starry-eyed and the scent of rum wafting around her. A part of her jacket is off her shoulder, a faint blush covering her cheeks that you can spot even under the dim lights. She’s definitely flirting—you know that because rumours go around faster than assignments in this university. Choi Joohee has a very public, very open crush on your boyfriend.

It’s not like it bothers you. Not at all.

Just a little bit.

Jealousy has never been your thing and you’re half certain what you’re feeling isn’t even jealousy—just a taste of alcohol and the proximity of a Halloween house party.

Speaking of which, the only thing harrowing about this place is the amount of alcohol everyone seems to be consuming—including your boyfriend. Ten dragged Yukhei home a while ago and a part of you is still not confident enough to handle a boyfriend with very pointy fangs and midnight cravings for blood (or juice, as Ten disgustingly phrases it). 

Sicheng nods along to something Joohee asks, an eyebrow raised quizzically on her and you assume he’s been zoning out the whole time. The urge to laugh surfaces and you swallow it whole. He’s so cute, even in this state. The lights dance across his face; candy blue, rich purple, saccharine red. The colours don’t help him stand any straighter, or slur his words any less.

You think it’s time to help your boyfriend out. However, the moment you walk through the swarms over to them, Joohee’s face sours. Of course, as the only competition (is it a competition if you’ve already won?) to the object of her affections, you don’t rank too high in her books. It made you a little upset at first, but you got used to it. (“She’ll get over it,” Sicheng had reassured several times. “Don’t worry.”)

People grow, and with that thought, you let it be.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Joohee tells Sicheng and walks away, like he’s supposed to follow her.

You roll your eyes and turn to Sicheng, who’s had a very delayed response to Joohee’s departure. His head is tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded and you’re almost afraid he’s going to drop to the floor right there and then. This is bad. The thing about vampires is that they absolutely should not, under any circumstance, have alcohol. Calling your boyfriend a lightweight is beyond an understatement.

“Sicheng,” you call softly. 

He turns to you, taking a moment to process, before pulling his lips into a wide smile. His fangs poke out even when he presses his lips back together, a contemplatory look over him.

“I thought you left me here.” He forces a sardonic smile.

Drunk off his ass and Sicheng still manages to be annoyingly sarcastic.

You open your mouth and close it again. It’s not like you can chide him without letting your fondness show. The Adonis features that grace his face don’t help. Flushed all the way to the neck, a drunk Dong Sicheng is very rare. The last time this happened must have been at least two years ago (and though you weren’t there then, the way Ten and Kun freeze up at the slightest mention, you decided to not ask).

“Why did you drink?” you ask, huffing. “You can’t even smell alcohol.”

There’s a short pause.

“Because you were ignoring me,” he replies, leaning in.

Heat washes into your cheeks. You forgot how unrestrained he gets with alcohol in his system.

Sicheng seems to have enough consciousness left in him to feel somewhat embarrassed, standing up straight and fiddling with his thumbs. You slip your hand into his without delay and pull, trying your best to navigate through the crowd. Is an ordinary Halloween party too much to ask for? Just when you can finally spot the front door, Sicheng stops abruptly, making you stumble backwards into his chest. He smells like the old deodorant he’s been using for a year underneath the smell of beer and… is that blood?

“Where are we going?” he asks sharply.

“Home, Sicheng,” you whine. “You can stay in my bed.”

He stays rooted in place stubbornly, and you wonder what it is now. This is the time you have to wonder if you’re dating a (potentially) immortal creature or a recently birthed baby.

“We should enjoy more. You’ve hardly smiled the past few weeks,” he mutters.

Your heartbeat spikes for a moment, when he brushes the hair from your face. All this time and he hasn’t changed the words he offers to you in private, the care on his lips and fingertips. A room full of people who aren’t listening is the best place to talk.

The first time you saw Sicheng was in the middle of the night, in the dark hallway of your shared apartment building, blood staining his jaw from a bag he’d acquired from med student Wong Kunhang. (You’re very sure that’s illegal.)

Needless to say, you’d fainted immediately after. When you came to, you were met with a man with pretty eyes and fangs poking out his mouth and in a bed that wasn’t yours. There was no blood this time but you screamed anyway, cut off by the man’s hand over your mouth.

“Calm down,” he said, voice surprisingly deep. “It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”

“You were planning to kill me?” you asked, panicking.

“I just said I wouldn’t,” he replied quietly, eyes wide and almost as stressed as you are.

Sicheng heaves a sigh, massaging his forehead. You shake yourself off the memories, tugging at his shirt so you can sit somewhere at least. The alcohol must have numbed his ears too. The low R&B tunes make no sense on Halloween night; even less when they’re played a few bars above the acceptable volume. If you’re not out of here soon, you might lose your hearing altogether.

The couch is slightly less stinky than you would have expected. (You grimace as you think to the last time you were at a frat party and in particular, the vomit.) Beside you, Sicheng mumbles about something you’re not quite sure of, a quiet rant with one-track emotions. It makes you giggle and for a moment, you forget the predicament of being stuck with a drunk vampire boyfriend who has just finished teething.

“Hey, guys.”

You look up to see Jihoon, the very friend of a friend (of a friend) who had invited you to this mess. It’s not like you harbour ill feelings towards him; but the guy has approximately zero ability to read the room. It’s mostly funny.

Sicheng makes a vague gesture that you assume means ‘hello’, sitting up straight so he doesn't look noticeably tipsy. You make light conversation with Jihoon, Sicheng’s arm around your waist tightening reflexively. You don’t plan on party-hopping, no matter how much Jihoon urges the two of you—seriously, does he not see the look on Sicheng’s face? He looks more zombie than vampire.

“You know, you don’t actually have to wear costumes for this, right? We didn’t set a theme,” Jihoon remarks, tilting his head to face your boyfriend. “The fangs are really cool, though. Holy shit. Dude, they look so real.”

Sicheng’s lips twitch but he forces them into a smile, trying to move as far away from Jihoon as possible. The fangs are usually not out and about in the open, slightly retracted during the day. The night, however, keeps him on edge. Sicheng hates the spotlight that only ever shows up for the wrong reasons, and he’d much rather graduate without having to deal with horny vampire-lovers. (It’s not that sexy; and you know from experience.) 

The way Sicheng looks makes you wonder how many people have pointed out the fangs tonight. You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing.

“Thanks,” he responds, voice his usual deep baritone. 

Jihoon leaves after being unable to draw any more conversation out of Sicheng, some peace gracing you despite everything.

If you ever write a book on how to deal with vampire boyfriends, the first rule would be to never kiss him at night. The fangs are not as withdrawn then and they hurt. (The second is, of course, to never let them get a whiff of alcohol.)

When Sicheng first kissed you, it was midnight and you were at the convenience store to buy a few lunchboxes and instant coffee mix. You’d yelped when his fang had pricked your lower lip, alarming the worker and around fifteen minutes of (dishonest) explanation later, the two of you had left without buying what you came for.

After fretting for a while, Sicheng had kissed you once more with careful consideration—till the damn fangs got in the way again. It was sweet for a moment—like candy—though, the metallic taste of blood had invaded it afterwards. No matter how awkward or painful it was, your elation outweighed the rest. 

Kisses weren’t the only thing interrupted by fangs.

The turtlenecks and scarves certainly raised an eyebrow in your circle of friends. There was concern at first, then teasing and then a whole lot of inside jokes which made you want to smack each and every one of them. (“They’re hickeys, I swear, not vampire bites,” you had informed Ten. “Ew. I did not need to know that.” “Shut up.”)

Even so, Sicheng is warm—always has been, and not on the skin.  

You feel pressure on your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck and you adjust yourself so it’s more comfortable. 

“Tired?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

You shake your head at his lie. Gently pushing his head away, you get up from your seat and pull him up with all of your strength. Linking your arm through his, you smile at him when he raises an eyebrow. It’s time to get home, you’ve decided and these are times when one vote is enough. 

When you reach the front door, stumbling out with your suddenly talkative boyfriend, the autumn breeze hits you. Under the moonlight, the rosy hue over his cheeks is clearer and even more so when he smiles.

“It’s like our first date,” he says. 

You smile back at him.

“You were so embarrassing,” he adds.

Your smile drops and you smack his arm, eliciting a soft complaint from him.

Your first date was the only normal thing in this relationship—a date at the amusement park on Halloween, a bunch of kids mistaking your now boyfriend for Count Dracula and caramel popcorn smeared over your fingers. 

Sicheng sighs, lowering his head to rest his forehead against your shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a moment or two, the party music finally fading and Sicheng’s warmth seeping into you. You fix the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly, fingers tracing over the material. His hands rest lightly against your back yet still secure. 

A kitten lick at your neck jolts you back to reality. You gently push him by the shoulders, finding his fangs bared already. He stays unmoving for a few seconds before closing his mouth and going back to leaning against you, breath falling in waves against your neck.

“I’m not your juicebox, Sicheng,” you snap, frown deepening.

“But you have so much blood,” he mumbles, his forehead hot against your shoulder.

“Sicheng.”

He sobers up a little, pulling back with a stream of pouting apologies. You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Despite everything, your boyfriend is such a child sometimes. There’s a short pause.

“But wait, don’t go biting someone else’s neck,” you quickly add, flustered.

Sicheng suppresses a smile.  

“So I can have a little—”

“No.”

Sicheng pouts but agrees enough to follow you, the two of you moving soundlessly over the sidewalk. Being alone with him has always been easing; you don’t need a crowd for comfort. 

With fingers interlaced, you walk alone with him as the orange street lights cast shadows on the buildings lined up. A few more blocks and you’ll reach your apartment, get to push Sicheng into bed and pray he doesn’t throw up at your front door—and yet still, you walk as slow as you can as if the autumn wind will be gone as quick as it arrived.

The number of people shrink the further you get from the party, and you heave a sigh of relief, glad to be away from, what you and your friends call, the rich neighbourhood. The familiar path to your apartment, no matter the pricing, has much better air to breathe in. It’s past midnight and yet, you can see the city lights in the distance, the ones that never sleep—for the living or the dead.

Something runs into your legs and you jump onto Sicheng, who in turn flinches away with a strangled yelp. 

You look down to see a giant golden retriever in a white blanket which you assume is meant to be a ghost outfit. It wags its tail, sniffing around your boyfriend’s legs, making him giggle as he crouches down to pet the creature.

“I’m so sorry!” 

You look up to find a young girl holding a pumpkin almost as large as her head, an apologetic look over her head. Some part of you is happy to see a costume, considering you were robbed of yours. (Sometimes you dream of matching costumes but again, the damn fangs.)

“Piri loves people, I’m so sorry if he bothered—oh hey dude, cool fangs.”

Sicheng offers the fakest smile ever, accompanied with a thumbs up gesture. You sigh, apologizing to the girl before parting ways. 

“That’s the eighth time tonight,” Sicheng says, scowling almost. “I counted.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. Calm, relaxed Dong Sicheng tends to lose it at repetitive comments with only three sips of beer.

When you reach the apartment building, clouds cover the moon and you draw your jacket closer to yourself. You think for a moment about the inevitability of time and whether you’re even allowed to fall in love this way. You push the thoughts aside almost inevitably. When the time comes, you will have a decision to make—and after everything, it is love which turns people. 

For now, you can enjoy this Halloween night with your (literally) one-of-a-kind boyfriend.

You fumble around with the keys, Sicheng looking at you with sleepy eyes as he leans against the wall. He must be worn out from the alcohol by now.

“Hey,” he calls, the words more muffled than usual. 

You raise an eyebrow, tugging him inside all the while maintaining your balance.

“You know my favourite blood type?” he continues.

You shake your head. “If you’re thinking of feeding, I’ll get some blood bags from Kunhang.”

Sicheng pouts. “You ruined the line.”

“Huh?”

“Yours. Yours is my favourite blood type.”

Despite the terrible execution of his so-called pick-up line, you find yourself shaking with laughter. You’re not sure if it’s the late night or the October air—the two of you share the silliest of laughter at the doorway to your apartment.

Within the moment itself, Sicheng leans in to kiss you and your hands move to run through his hair out of habit. The taste of beer and the prick of his fangs makes you pull away. You look at each other for a moment before you give in anyway and kiss him against the doorframe.

October ends with memories—your first date, Sicheng’s cooking disaster, and now this. It’s blissful for the few moments the two of you let it be. That is, until Sicheng opens his mouth.

“Oh, by the way, can you apologize to Ten for me? I think I bit him thinking it was you.”

“Sicheng, what the fuck?”

October ends with proximity, sweet as candy and warm as toast—stumbling into bed with all that and more.

[pricetagofficial]

Sweet Tarts -TD

Warnings: Pure tooth-rotting fluff

Paring: Tim Drake x Wally sis! Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Tag List: @kishony-the-geek​ @idkmanicantenglish​ @unknowntoanyone​ @subtleappreciation​ @catxsnow​ @river-bottom-nightmare​ @screennamealreadyused​ @woahjaybird​

A/N: I did not specify if Wally and Y/N are biological or adopted siblings, so that part is entirely left up to you and how you want to interpret it. 

“Come on Y/N, just come with me. It’ll be fun!” Wally protested, pulling on your arm.

You rolled your eyes and looked up at your older brother, for the last hour he had been trying to convince you to go to a team party with him but all you wanted to do was sit and read the newest book in your favorite series. It had just recently come out and you were more than excited, but of course, Wally had other plans.

“Why can’t you just ask Dick to go with you?” you brushed him off, turning to look at your book once more.

“He already is, but I want to introduce my little sister to the rest of the team. They know literally everything about you but what you look like. You come this one time and I will never ask you again for as long as I live.” He pleaded, dashing over to look at you.

Wally did have a point, the only people you had actually met on the team were Dick, Conner, M’gann, and Artemis considering they were all close friends with Wally. You knew Dick had younger brothers, but you had never met them let alone knew what they looked like. Dick and Wally were the worst when they were together, normally where you found one, nine times out of ten the other was with them causing trouble and giving Bruce and Barry gray hairs.

There was even a space for you on the team, considering the fact that you had similar powers to that of Wally and Barry but the hero life was never for you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help others but Barry was stressed enough with just Wally and Bart; adding you to the mix was an accident waiting to happen. Besides, you were the slowest of them all and didn’t want to hold anyone back. Both Wally and Barry respected your decision, but Bart never stopped bugging you to join.

“Wally, you and I both know that if I go to one, it will turn into every single one, and before I know it one of you has managed to rope me into joining the team.” You closed your book and crossed your arms, “I know the schemes you and Dick come up with, you really think you could pull this one past me?”

Wally gave you a shrug. “Maybe, but please? I want you to meet everyone else.”

After a few more moments of contemplating, you finally let out a sigh and dropped your head. “Fine, I will go to this one! But I swear if you try anything funny, I will punch you into the next century.” You threatened.

“Oh, come on, you and I both know you can’t do that.” Wally teased, poking your forehead only for you to flick his nose. “You aren’t fast enough for it.”

“No, but Barry is.”

Wally seemed to take that threat semi-serious, he got up with a huge smile on his face. “I swear, you will not regret coming to this!” he laughed and sped off to his room to call Dick and let him know that their plan was a go.

It was a couple of hours until the party but Wally spent most of it making sure that you were good to go. He was oddly concerned with what you were wearing, and how your hair looked. It should have raised red flags all over the place, but you brushed it off as Wally just being his over-analytical self.

Before you knew it, the two of you were standing outside the zeta tube in Central City ready to go to Mt. Justice for the party that was being hosted as a celebration for one of the team’s biggest cases completed.

Recognized -Kid Flash B03, -Velocity B032

The two of you didn’t even make it in the cave before Wally was dragged into a hug by his best friend. “You guys made it! Velocity, good to see you.” He grinned and hugged you tightly as well.

“Dick, I don’t go by Velocity you know that.” You chuckled hugging him back.

“If you don’t go by Velocity, then why is it there?” a voice asked from behind him. Conner and M’gann walked up to you with a smile on their face.

You crossed your arms and gave them both a look. “You all know very well why it’s there and not my name.”

Wally and Dick rubbed the back of their necks with a suspicious look on their faces. “We have no idea what you are talking about Y/N, but either way I’m glad you decided to come. There are so many people who want to meet Wally’s famous sister.”

The four of them ushered you further into the cave where there were dozens of people there standing around, talking, and eating the many snacks M’gann had made. Most people were in their civies as well, the few who weren’t wore either glasses or their masks to hide their identity.

Taking a look around, you remembered the last time you were in the cave. It was the day that you got the nickname Velocity, but tried to push it to the back of your mind as Dick and Wally specifically maneuvered you towards the snack table.

“Make yourself at home, we’ll be right back,” Dick said and walked off with Wally right behind him.

“Don’t you move.” Wally threatened and followed his friend before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you alone at the snack table.

It was at this point you regretted coming to the party, your brother and the only people you knew ditched you at the snack table so you did the only thing you could. Gorge yourself on the delectable treats in front of you. Grabbing a plate, you put a little bit of everything that could fit on your plate. Your appetite was quite large, but it was your metabolism trying to keep up with the speeds your body could handle. The only person you had seen eat more than you was Wally; he was like a human garbage disposal.

You were snacking on a cherry tart when you heard someone stand beside you. Looking to your left, you saw a boy with messy black hair and the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen. He was only a bit taller than you and had his arms crossed over his chest with a disheveled look on his face as if he was forced to walk over.

Before he could catch you looking, you quickly turned your head and finished the tart in your hand.

“You should try the apple ones, they’re the best.” He said softly.

Turning to look at him, a small smile spread on your face. “I don’t know, I’m pretty attached to the cherry.”

The boy chuckled and held out his hand. “I’m Tim, Dick is my older brother.”

You took his in your own and shook it. “Y/N, Wally is mine.” you smiled.

“I figured, you’re all he seems to talk about.” Tim smiled, leaning against the table to look at you.

“Oh really? How many embarrassing stories should I be worried that everyone knows about?” you asked, finishing your cherry tart.

Tim laughed at your question. “None so far, all he says is how cool you are and that he is proud of you.”

Hearing those words made you smile more, maybe Wally wasn’t such a terrible big brother. “I’m proud of him too, putting himself out there to help those who can’t protect themselves every day. It’s not easy, and Wally loves it more than anything.” You explained, reaching for an apple tart and taking a bite of it.

“You’re right, these are good.” You smiled.

“I told you.” He grinned. “But you have the same powers, so why don’t you fight with him and the team?” Tim asked, tilting his head as he took a cherry tart off of your plate.

You tried to swat his hand away with a laugh only for him to stay out of reach and take a bite.

“I prefer to stay out of the action, I’m not as fast as Barry, Wally, or Bart. I’d only slow them down, and worry them more, so I’ve taken up an internship with Iris and journalism and help keep people’s noses out of their identities.” You explained, looking around. “But that does not stop them, especially Bart. Every time I see him, he brings out the suit Barry had made for me and makes a big deal about asking every chance he gets.”

Your eye caught sight of Wally and he was talking to Artemis, with Dick at his side. They seemed to be talking in hushed whispers about something and gesturing towards your location but things weren’t adding up. Before you could even voice your concern, or mention it to Tim you saw a blur out of the corner of your eye.

“Speaking of which.” You quickly set your plate down and grabbed Tim’s hand and took off down the hall to get away from Bart. You loved him to death, but this kid had an exuberant amount of energy that rivaled Wally’s and this was the last thing you wanted.

“Y/N!” you heard Bart call from behind you, only making you pick up the pace a little.

You could have run faster to get away from him, but for some reason, you grabbed hold of Tim and drug him along with you. It limited your speed and you felt him tug on your hand.

“Here, this way.” He said and opened a door and quickly shoved the two of you in, quietly shutting it behind you.

The two of you hid in the dark closet, Tim’s ear pressed against the door as he listened for Bart’s steps to fade away. Somehow the two of you had outrun him and hid before he could actually find you. A couple minutes passed before you let out the breath you had been holding.

“Thanks for that.” You smiled, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. It had only just dawned on you exactly where you were, and how small the room was. “Tim, did you just shove us in a broom closet?”

Tim rubbed the back of his head. “It was the closest place we could hide, I figured from the way you took off that you didn’t want to deal with him asking you questions.” He looked around, before reaching for the door. “I think it’s safe to come out.” He said and pulled on the handle, only for it to not budge.

“Tim, why is the door not opening?” you asked.

“Uh, it’s locked.”

“It’s what?”

“It’s locked.” He repeated.

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “How are we locked in here? Does it unlock from the outside only?”

“It seems so, and I don’t have my utility belt or I could totally get us out of here.” He responded and pulled out his phone, using the light to look around. You had left yours with Wally because the outfit you were wearing did not have any pockets.

“I have no service in here either, so it looks like we just have to wait it out.” He sighed and sat on a box, you sitting on one leaned against the opposite wall. The closet was big enough that you were comfortable, but your knees were touching and you were crowded by various items.

“It’s never a dull time with you bats.” You chuckled, leaning your arms on your thighs.

“I could say the same thing about you speedsters.” Tim teased. “Between you, Wally, and Bart, someone is always laughing and having a good time.”

You tilted your head at his comment. “We’ve never met before tonight; how do you know I always make people laugh?”

Tim was thankful for the darkness of the room; you didn’t get to see the slight blush creeping up on his face. “Wally and Bart talk about you all the time, every story they tell has at least one person in tears laughing.”

Your face began to heat up as well, with you tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, life is too short with this occupation. What better way to live it than to make others laugh right?”

Tim laughed softly and looked at you with his blue eyes illuminated by the soft glow coming from his phone. “Yeah, you never know what day will be your last so might as well live it the way you want to, right?”

The tone in his voice seemed to change with those last few words. Tim had known about you for a while and even harbored a slight crush from the pictures Dick would show him of you and Wally. But seeing you in reality, was something different entirely; the way your eyes shone when you talked about your family and running made him fall even harder. Sure, you weren’t a public hero like your brother or uncle, but you were still a speedster and running was in your blood.

Slowly his hand reached over and took yours, keeping his touch light and soft. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off, or make you think he was some kind of weirdo. But the second you tightened your grip on his hand, his heart fluttered.

“I have to be honest; I did not want to come to this stupid party, and getting locked in a closet was not on my list. But I am glad that it's with you.” You smiled, looking at your entwined hands.

His fingers were long but calloused. It showed the hard work he put into his title of Robin, but no matter how rough they were his touch was soft. He gripped your hand in his and looked at you. You had only met him that night, but there was something that pulled you towards him. Maybe it was the fact that he understood what it was like to have a big brother’s legacy to live up to or the simple fact that he understood that you didn’t want to join the hero scene. Whatever it was, it seemed to pull him towards you as well.

Before you knew it, his face was right in front of yours and you could feel his warm breath fan over your face. One inch closer and your lips would be on his, and your eyes locked with his. Tim’s hand left yours as he cupped your cheek with both hands, threading his fingers through your hair slightly.

The magnetic pull only got stronger as you leaned in closer, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed against yours. His lashes tickled the skin on your cheeks as Tim kissed you fully, leaning into it to feel it closer.

The kiss itself only lasted a few seconds before he pulled back and looked at you, his eyes shining with something you couldn’t decipher.

“You taste like cherry tart.” Tim gave a lopsided grin, savoring the taste of your lips on his own.

“I am definitely glad I am stuck in a closet with you now.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and kissed Tim once more. His hands held your waist as he pulled you onto his lap to bring you closer to his body.

This kiss lasted longer than the first one, but not by much. Before either of you could react, the door to the closet swung open as light flooded into the room. You let out a squeak and jumped off Tim’s lap and landed on the floor with a thud.

Looking up, you saw Dick standing there with his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. “Having fun, you two?” he teased.

Tim’s face flushed darker as you glared at Dick from your spot on the floor.

“Hey, Wally! I found her!” he called. Within seconds, Wally was next to Dick and peeking into the closet and saw your current position.

“You know, when we planned on setting you two up, we did not mean for you to make out in a dark closet.” He grinned.

“Wally!” you snapped and got up and dove at him quickly, Wally speeding out of the way. It all clicked why they wanted you to come to the party so bad and Wally’s sudden interest in what you wore out of the house. He was trying to set you up with Dick’s little brother.

Knowing that he was in trouble, Wally took off down the hall with you right behind him zooming through the cave as you tried to catch him. The night ended with Wally nursing a large bruise on his shoulder and you and Tim exchanging numbers and planning your first official date of many yet to come.

[kaidans-alenko]

I GOT THE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS BRAIN ROT OKAY IM SORRY

"You should pick dare Azalea." One of the girls at the party taunted. 

"Oh...uh….okay…" she fidgeted uncomfortably on the leather couch "dare." 

The group of girls that usually bullied her smirked to each other and started snickering "Okay, we dare you to kiss Kaidan." 

Azalea's tan skin flushed "No...I…."

"Aw come on, don't be cruel!" One of the girls laughed.

"Yeah, what did Kaidan ever do to you?" Another kid jeered. 

Azalea hung her head, right, first a kiss and the next thing she knows they're pouring pigs blood on her at prom. She looked at the group of bullies in front of her, she wished she was like the girl in that book. The abusive mother, the cruel bullies, if she had the cool mind powers too life would be so much easier. 

She looked at Kaidan next as he was laughing with his friends, unlike her Kaidan was popular, he was shy and generally kept to himself but he was sweet and funny and handsome. It was no wonder people are drawn to him.

"Fine." Azalea said as she stood up.

"Wait?...really?" 

"Yeah, you dared me after all, don't I have to?" Azalea asked, feigning innocence.

One of the girls snorted, the one who Azalea knew liked Kaidan "Fine, go ahead." She smirked at her, crossing her arms.

Taking a deep breath she marched over to Kaidan before she lost her nerve, as far as she knew Kaidan had never kissed anybody. If he had he hadn't told her. She wasn't quite sure what this feeling was but the thought of someone else being his first kiss was...uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Kai?" Azalea said softly as she came up behind him.

"Lea." His face lit up immediately upon seeing her and she swallowed hard, Kaidan was her best friend, of all the people in the room he should be the easiest to kiss so why was she suddenly so clammy? 

Azalea looked back behind her and saw the bullies from earlier whispering to each other, about her no doubt and it would be easier to just leave and let them have their fun but she didn't want Kaidan to be left alone with them.

Azalea grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close, pressing their lips together in an awkward kiss. Not only shocking each other but everyone in the room.

They pulled away as a couple kids whistled and a few laughed. Kaidan and Azalea both equally in disbelief as the other "Lea...what was…?" 

Azalea's face felt like it was on fire and she all but pushed him away "I uh...sorry!" Turning around she ran out of the house, leaving a stunned Kaidan alone in the crowd.

"Hey man, I got some mouthwash upstairs if you want to get that taste out of your mouth." The host of the party laughed, putting him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, way to take one for the team." Another teased.

Kaidan knew they were joking, as cruel as it was but he also knew Azalea wasn't the type to do something like that. 

"I can't believe she actually did it." The group of bullies said, giggling with each other. Kaidan wasn't riled up very easily, it took a lot to make him angry, like being unnecessary mean to someone he cared deeply for. 

Kaidan grabbed his coat and followed her out of the house, hoping he'd be able to catch up with her. "Lea!" He called and she froze in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Go away!" She called back, wiping her eyes.

Kaidan frowned "Lea…." 

"I'm sorry, I know I'm the last person you probably want to kiss." She said as she attempted to calm down, she didn't want to annoy Kaidan with her crying like she did her mother. It usually only made things worse.

That was actually far from the truth, of the people in that room she's the one he wanted to kiss the most. Recently he's come to realize his feelings for her, he thought Azalea might feel the same but their age difference made things...awkward, at least for the moment. 

Kaidan took his coat and draped it over her small, shivering shoulders "I'm not mad Azalea." He said softly. 

"....you aren't?" She asked, slowly raising her head to look at him.

Kaidan shook his head "No, it was wrong of them to tease you like that, you didn't do anything wrong." 

Azalea threw herself against him and buried her face into his sweater, Kaidan looked down at her as held her. "Lea, look at me." He coaxed and it took a moment but she finally did as he asked.

Even with her tear stained cheeks and red eyes he thought she was beautiful. He brought his face close to hers and all she could barely hear anything above her heartbeat "Kaidan?" 

At the sound of her voice he lost his nerve and rested his forehead on her shoulder. "Come on, I'll walk you home." He said with a strained smile, taking her hand but she didn't budge "Lea?" 

"Can I stay with you?" She shuffled awkwardly, what great timing this was. "My mom, she's in one of her moods again."

Kaidan knew what that was code for and he couldn't bring himself to say no. "Of course, my mom was just talking about how she hasn't seen you in a while."

Azalea gave him a relieved smile "It won't be awkward?" 

Kaidan shook his head "You're my best friend, nothing will ever be awkward between us." He assured her. 

She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of the coat he'd leant her. She wasn't sure what she did to deserve a friend like him but she knew how lucky she was. Of all the people he could spend time with he chose her. 

She doubted their feelings would ever be the same for each other. She was fine with that, or she would be eventually. There were other people that deserve him more than she did but for the moment she'd enjoy what time they did have. Just the two of them.  

[taxicabinmemphis]

Prince Charming - Chapter 5

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six

Word count - 3,332 Pairing - Intrulogical, Prinxiety, Moceit (I’m deleting the pre bc I have decided to have a chapter with them getting together) Warnings - some characters are a lil insensitive in spots but I wouldn’t call them unsympathetic, creativitwins angst, swearing, food mention, self-deprecation bc they’re all wrecks, pining, and then there’s Remus-typical behavior (body horror mentions, sexual innuendo/mentions of sexual stuff, and other stuff heh), if there’s anything else that should be tagged or put in the warnings, tell me!

After a hearty and delicious meal of spaghetti and meatballs with a side of broccoli, the sides had all retired to get ready for bed. The adventure had gone terribly late, so dinner was later than they’d ever had it.

Logan stopped when he reached the door to his room. Yes, he knew that the next logical course of action would be to enter his room and get ready for bed, perhaps read a book as his stomach digested dinner, but he couldn’t help but remember how quiet Remus had been at dinner. He was never quiet.

His mind flashed back to what Roman said to Remus when they left the Imagination, and Logan clenched his left hand into a fist. Roman, while always striving to do what he saw to be the correct course of action, could also be awfully insensitive. Especially when he didn’t even know he was doing it.

Logan promptly turned on his heels and walked towards Remus’ room.

He ended up meeting the side in the hallway outside his room. Remus was walking alarmingly slow and seemed to be contemplating something.

“Remus,” Logan called, a good fifteen feet behind him.

The creative side jumped in surprise. He turned to face Logan, eyes widened. “Oh, uh, Logan! What brings you to the dark and hellish end of the hall?”

Logan fiddled with his tie nervously. “I came to ask you about something, Remus.”

Silence followed Logan’s statement, prompting Remus to speak. “Well? Fire away, my sexy robot!”

A pink dusted Logan’s cheeks at the nickname. “Yes. Umm...are you okay, Remus?”

Remus blinked. “Of course I am, Nerdy Wolverine!”

Logan frowned. “I believe that’s a falsehood, Remus.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Really? What can I do to convince ya? Rip my heart out and dissect it?”

Logan shook his head, adjusting his glasses. “No, none of that. Just...I remember what Roman said back when we exited the Imagination. It wasn’t kind, but he also had no cruel intentions. However, I could see that it...affected you. Are you okay? Do you require someone to...talk to?” Logan hoped he was doing this right.

Remus sighed and threw his hands in the air in resignation. “I might be okay. Does it matter?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Remus. It does. You are a part of Thomas’ mind and it is important that you are functioning properly.”

“Functioning…” Remus gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Look, Logan. Ultimately, I am fine. I can intrude on everyone’s well-being just as I could three hours ago. You can go to bed, you don’t need to worry.” He paused. “Why do you care, anyway?”

Logan frowned. “You are a side, essential to Thomas creating and acting like himself.”

“You don’t know that,” Remus disagreed, shaking his head.

Logan closed half of the distance between them, concern written all over his features. “Of course I know that. I can logically ascertain what exactly your worth is as a side, especially considering I spend a significant amount of time with you.”

“Maybe all that time you spent analyzing my contributions in preparation to shoot them down has clouded your judgement, Logan,” Remus replied, spitting out Logan’s name like it repulsed him—when in reality, it did nothing of the sort.

Was that really how Remus thought of Logan? Someone who only listens so he can later tell someone else why everything he said was wrong? Logan tried to be kind like he did with everyone else, and many of Remus’ ideas interested him. He gave him honest opinions, criticisms, and scientific observations on anything Remus pitched him. But did Remus only see him as an instrument of the intrusive side’s demise?

“Remus…”

“No, Logan, please,” Remus interrupted. “Don’t pretend to care.”

“When did I ever say anything about pretending?!” Logan exclaimed abruptly, widening his eyes and putting a hand over his mouth when he noticed his volume. Logan did his best to erase the surprise from his face and compose himself, clearing his throat and making sure to lower the volume of his voice before continuing. “I apologize for the outburst, Remus. However, you seem to have perplexed me with everything you have said so far during this conversation. Presently, I believe the statement to question is your most recent one and I will state that I am unaware of any action I took that would give you a reason to think I was engaging in a deception at your expense.”

“Oh, Logan, you know. Just drop it and go to sleep,” Remus said, turning around and waving his hand in dismissal.

“No, Remus, I’m afraid I don’t know,” Logan said honestly. “That troubles me. Could you elaborate, please?”

Remus turned around slowly. “Maybe you think you don’t know, so I’ll enlighten you.” He took a deep breath. “You’ve been assigned to listen to me. You have to listen to my crazy bullshit whenever I think it up. In return, I listen to your criticisms, opinions, scientific analyses, notes, whatever. Even when you go insanely far in depth into a topic I might’ve brought up with one of my...contributions, as you call them. It’s a trade, a deal. You have to listen to me and then I listen to you because it’s the least I can do. Neither of us would’ve chosen it on our own, we both hate it, and you know you have better things to do. Don’t pretend to care just because some extra time together allows you to know more about me than you should.”

Logan processed what Remus said, staying unmoving only with the exception of blinking. This is what Remus thought of their arrangement? That he hated it, that he thought Logan hated it, that he forgot Logan was the one to suggest the arrangement in the first place? Janus’ words at the end of their sword fight rang through his head. Logan had been scared that Remus, the one side who listened to him, only did so out of courtesy. And he did. Logan’s fear was a reality.

“You forget that I suggested this...arrangement, as you call it. I was the one who pitched it to Thomas. I chose to do this, and do I have anything better to do? That’s subjective, so I don’t know. I am sorry this arrangement you hate so much has ended up being a prison rather than a way to save Thomas distress while not repressing you at the same time, so if there’s anything I can do to make the experience more pleasurable, I am open to hearing it. However, you are also mistaken that I hate it. I do not, I am incapable of such emotions. Though--”

“No you’re not,” Remus said, voice having a shocked tone caused by Logan’s previous statements and admissions.

“Sorry, what?”

“You’re not ‘incapable of such emotions’, you’re not some heartless robot without a soul. You have feelings, Logan, and I’ve seen them,” Remus elaborated, shock slowly dissolving from his tone.

“That’s ridiculous, you even called me a robot-”

Remus shook his head. “No. I’ve seen you interested by anything remotely scientific I bring up, I’ve seen you as burnt as black toast after I’ve talked to you for a particularly long time, I’ve seen you immediately after a conversation with the others when you have a desperate need to be listened to because they refused to, I’ve seen you embarrassed, I’ve seen you flustered—yes, I caught you burying your face in your hands today—and you just said you care about me. Even though that likely isn’t true, you have demonstrated care for Patton, Roman, and Virgil as well. Even just one of those examples is enough to prove you have feelings.”

Logan was silent for a few seconds, his weight shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at Remus himself. Accepting that he couldn’t argue with most of Remus’ statements without communicating a falsehood, he decided to argue over the only one he could. “I do indeed care about you. It’s not just Patton, Roman, and Virgil. How could it be, considering only you listen?”

“I…” Remus tried to think of a good response. “I bother you. I wear you out. I give you all these terrible things to go through, forcing you to pick them apart like a medical examiner does with a rotting corpse, despite how disgusting and terrible they may be. I occupy way more of your time than I should, and I guess I’m sorry for that, so how could you care? I wouldn’t.”

Logan didn’t quite know how to respond. He wasn’t aware Remus thought so lowly of himself. He contemplated his reply.

“See? It’s not that hard to-”

Logan raised his hand as a demand for silence. Remus shut his mouth, only complying out of surprise. He waited as Logan carefully pondered what he would say next.

“Falsehood,” Logan said gently, starting his response. “None of those things are true. You shouldn’t be suspecting such things either, considering you have no way to know your effects on me. I want to say I wish you hadn’t said that, but I couldn’t do so with honesty, since my real wish is for you to never have thought—much less, believed—those falsehoods in the first place. However, I am considering your previous behavior and would postulate you do not believe me as I have not done anything to prove your statements are falsehoods. Would I be correct in saying this, Remus?”

Remus took a moment to respond, still processing Logan’s response. “I..uhh...yeah.”

Logan nodded. “First, you do not bother me. To bother someone is to trouble or annoy someone by interrupting or causing inconvenience. Considering that I volunteered to be in your company—which immediately debunks anything related to interruptions—and that my time with you makes you cause less inconvenience, you neither cause interruptions nor inconvenience to befall me. You don’t trouble me either. I spend time with you so don’t trouble anyone. And, everyone annoys me. So even if you did, which I don’t find to always be true, you wouldn’t be alone in that regard. You don’t wear me out too often either. Working with you only requires my ears and my brainpower, neither of which take much out of me since you rarely say anything that troubles me or forces me to contemplate problems that drain me. When you do, the reasons are typically seeded in my scientific curiosity for something you might’ve brought up, which is something I can in no way blame on you. To be candid, your company can be a relief, especially after dealing with the others.”

“That makes less sense than glow-in-the-dark lungs.”

“I’m not finished,” Logan stated, trying to be as kind as possible. “But if you would like me to restate what I just said-”

“No,” Remus shook his head. “I understand what you said...it’s just...how? How is that the truth?”

Logan’s face softened. “I am Logic, Remus. Many things that would normally affect a person or another side in a certain way will affect me in different ways or not at all. Your contributions don’t bother me as I am aware of their detachment from reality and get less disgusted at them than the others. And you listen to me, which is a far cry away from being a nuisance.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Remus said, shrugging.

Logan gave a small smile. It was hardly visible, but to Remus, it was as if Logan was grinning. Remus relished in the sight, hoping he could see it again soon and wishing it was something he could gaze at every day till the end of time. Logan never smiled, and Remus causing it made him all the happier.

“I am pleased to hear that you understand that I care for you,” Logan said, voice quiet and gentle. “Now, back to my original question. Are you okay?”

Remus turned his head to the side. “I was hoping you’d forget about the question.”

“Yes or no?” Logan pressed.

Remus took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “No.”

Logan nodded, taking a small and cautious step forward. “Do you require someone to talk to?”

Remus opened an eye and peered at Logan. “I don’t need anything, Pocket Protector.”

“Would you like someone to talk to?” Logan rephrased.

Remus shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to listen to me.”

“I already do.”

Remus gulped. “Alright. Yes, I suppose I would.”

Remus took a moment to gather his words, facing the floor but eyes flicking up to look at Logan every other second.

“Well, you were right,” he started. “About Roman, I mean. It was his comment. I know it’s kind of silly-”

“It’s nothing of the sort, he was out of line.”

“-But it still hurt. And yeah, he said none of us besides him were heroic and charming or whatever instead of just me, but still. It was directed towards me, and...he’s not wrong. I’m the resident villain. He’s the hero. I’ll never be heroic, or charming, or romantic while he can go and sweep Virgil off his feet. I guess his comment was just a wake-up call,” Remus continued. “I know he didn’t mean it to be mean and he’s just nowhere near being self-aware enough to take note of his insensitivity, but I still let it affect me. I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

“It’s fine if his comment got to you, Remus,” Logan said, taking another small step forward. “Roman says things like that sometimes without knowing what their consequences could be, and so it likely did mean nothing, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be able to hurt you, or that you’re wrong for letting it. But you also have to acknowledge that he’s wrong, and not view it as a wake-up call of sorts.”

Remus frowned, making eye contact with Logan. “What do you mean? I’m the evil murdery green side who will pull your teeth out and string them on a necklace if you’re not careful. Of course he’s right.”

“I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. Anyone can be a villain in the eyes of someone else. However, any establishment that a certain person is a villain ‘factually’ would be incorrect as the concepts of good and bad are arguably meaningless and any action can be seen as wrong or right in the eyes of another human. There is no truth in opinions, only preference.”

“So what you’re saying is…”

“You may be a villain in Roman’s eyes, you can be a villain in your own eyes if you so choose, however, there is nothing that can or will establish you as a villain for everyone forever.”

“So to Roman, I’m a villain,” Remus said slowly, trying to understand.

“Maybe, he could have just been exaggerating,” Logan said quickly. “He also sees everything as very black-or-white, which I imagine contributes a great deal as well.”

Remus nodded slowly. “And I can see myself however I want.”

“Though I’d prefer that you see yourself positively or neutrally. A negative self-image is never good.”

“And you…” Remus trailed, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t care for labeling those types of things. I do see you as a positive influence on my existence if that was your question.”

Remus grinned brightly. “That answer is better than fermented semen!”

There was an awkward silence between them.

“Do you honestly believe you can’t be heroic, charming, and romantic?” Logan asked quietly, not wanting to scare off the intrusive side.

Remus stared, surprised by Logan’s question. “It’s not an opinion, Logan, it’s fact. I’m a duke, not a prince.”

“And royal status dictates those traits?”

Remus shook his head. “No...I’m just not those things.”

Logan frowned. “Do you want to be?”

Remus took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to reply without confusing the nerd. “No. I know none of them fit my personality, and I don’t want them too. Especially charming. But...it might be nice to experience once. To prove Roman wrong and that it isn’t impossible for me to have the traits of a hero.”

“There are no specifically assigned traits to heroes, Remus,” Logan said, tightening his tie. “However, you can act however you want within the bounds of acceptable reality.”

“I can?” Remus asked, a smirk on his face. He started to take a couple of steps closer to Logan but stopped a good four feet away.

“Yes, you can,” Logan replied, voice quieter at Remus’ confident advance. The logical side shuffled his feet back, only moving a couple of inches.

“Do you think I’m heroic?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Do you think I’m charming?” He took a step closer.

“I-I don’t-”

Remus took another step, a larger one, closer to the logical side. There was likely only six inches between them. He stared deep into his eyes, a fiery passion for the visually impaired nerd burning hotter than any star Logan could name.

“Do you think I’m romantic?”

“I…”

Logan’s words died in his throat as he met Remus’ eyes. Remus, who was intrusive, offensive, bad to the bone, impolite, occasionally funny, interested in certain sciences, and strived to learn whatever Logan could teach. Remus, the only one who ever listened.

“You can if you want to be,” Logan said quietly, finally able to speak but never louder than the volume he was currently speaking at.

Remus hummed and pulled Logan flush against him by the waist.

“Remus?” Logan asked nervously.

“What is it, my bashful brainiac?”

“Do you really hate our arrangement?” Logan asked quietly, the question so painful to ask but the answer was something he needed to know before anything else happened. “And do you only listen out of courtesy?”

Remus sighed, running his free hand through the logical side’s hair. “Not one bit. And you are the most interesting person I’ve ever spoken to.”

Logan let another small smile cross his face and glanced at his feet.

“So I can be romantic, hmm?”

Logan nodded.

Remus smirked. He swept Logan into a dip—one arm around Logan’s thigh, lifting his leg into the air, and the other arm around his shoulders. Remus gazed lovingly into Logan’s shocked brown eyes and admired the red face of his nerd, giving the side a second to process what he did. He then dipped his gaze to Logan’s lips and flicked his tongue across his own.

“May I?”

Logan gulped before nodding.

Remus immediately crashed his lips against Logan’s; the simple nod of Logan’s head acting like a lamp that just turned on and Remus’ lips being their loyal moth.

Logan was still shocked from previous events when Remus’ lips met his, his eyes still open. Remus didn’t hate him, which was a plus, and now Remus was expressing romantic interest in him? He couldn’t believe it.

Yet, it was still happening. Logan closed his eyes, put a hand on the nape of Remus’ neck, and deepened the kiss.

It was something both were desperate for, something they had both wanted for ages—no matter how long they were aware of their romantic feelings for the other.

And so they dissolved into the other: Logan melting wherever Remus’ hands met his body, and Remus putting his desperation and need for Logan on clear display as he kissed him like he never would get to again. Remus got to be romantic, Logan was treated like a beautiful princess, and they both felt so incredibly loved.

The kiss eventually had to come to end, so when they both remembered they had to breathe, they pulled away and opened their eyes. Remus kept Logan in a dip and looked down at him like he was the loveliest thing to ever walk the earth. This only reddened Logan’s cheeks further. Remus gave him the fondest, most loving smile he could muster.

“I suppose I can be romantic.”

~

Taglist: @the-sympathetic-villain​ @justanotherhumanstuff​ @thistledown15​

~

This was technically the end of this story, but I do have a Moceit themed sequel that I have decided will just be chapter six. After that, hopefully it’ll be done! Hope you liked this chapter. Sorry, I meant to get this to you on Thursday but homework piled up and I just had a bad day Saturday so it’s coming to y’all now. (Also um you may have guessed but the image of Remus dipping Logan popped into my head and inspired this fic. It was 18k longer than expected)

[lovemalecforever]

Chapter 19

Let me confine you in my arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Let me confine you in my arms, Calming the violence of your storms, Absorbing it in the depth of my soul, Gathering you up and making you whole.

Holding you tightly when we get closer, Letting you cry over my shoulder, Gently caressing and kissing you in parts, Slowly mending your broken heart.

©scrawled_dreams

[A/N: I thought this poem fits perfectly for Malec in this story, so I posted it here. This is my original under the pen name scrawled_dreams.]

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

The warm golden rays of sunlight fell over Alec's eyes through the crack of the curtains, making him stir in sleep. The room was dimly lit with the golden glow of the rays filtering into the room. The crystal particles of dust were dancing in mid-air.

Alec's eyelashes fluttered and he woke up, then quickly covered his eyes, blocking the bright rays reaching into his eyes. He stirred, then woke up properly, only then he noticed his legs were intertwined with his husband's, his arm lay protectively over his waist in a tight grip and he was big spooning his sweet warlock. He smiled and left feather-soft kisses on his shoulder and nape of the neck, making sure not to disturb his sleeping beauty. He smoothly untangled them, so as not to disturb his husband, stood up and left for the bathroom. When he came out, his husband was still sound asleep so he decided to make breakfast for them.

He left for the kitchen and quickly made a breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs with bacon, bread toast, two mini pancakes, a bowl of fruit, a glass of orange juice for Magnus, and strong black coffee for himself. He put everything on a tray then left for his bedroom.

When he opened the bedroom door he saw his husband turning and tossing around on the bed, his hands moving around on the empty sheets like he was trying to grab something and he was mumbling something in his sleep. He walked towards the bed, kept the tray on the side table, and sat on the bed. From up close he was able to listen to what his warlock was mumbling in his sleep.

"Al... Alexander.. don... don't leave me, please. I.. won't.. won't be.. able to.. live.. with.. without you. I.. I'm sorry, for... forgive me, don't... don't leave me." He kept mumbling the same thing again and again.

Alec's heart sank in his chest, his wings threatening to come out and wrap Magnus in it. He controlled the urge as it was not the right time for that. Instead, he sat beside him and started running his fingers through his hair in a soothing manner, caressing him gently and softly, and gave him a feather-light kiss on his temple and forehead. The warlock relaxed under his touch and rested his hand on his lap.

"Wake up, Magnus. I've made breakfast for you." He nudged him gently.

"Mm.. fi.. minit..." Alec chuckled at his adorableness.

"Wake up love. You can sleep later, I have the whole day with you today." He softly kissed him on the tip of the nose.

That's when Magnus' eyes shot up, making him fully awake. "Alexander?" He shifted and sat up on the bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his shadowhunter with a glint.

"Morning, love!" He tucked the locks of his messy hairs falling on his temples behind his ears and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

As soon as Alec's lips touched Magnus, the realization of the recent happenings dawned on him, and just like that, the glint in his eyes was gone. The guilt overpowering all his other emotions.

"Mags, what's wrong?"

"I.. Alexander... I.." He stuttered, looking anywhere but him.

"Magnus, if this is about whatever that heartless bloodsucking vampire did to you, you don't have to worry, okay. I'll understand if you don't want to tell me what happened or want to take your time, but just know that she'll never be able to cause a strain in our relationship. I love you, Magnus Lightwood Bane, nothing can change that." He caressed his cheeks and pecked him on the temple.

Magnus didn't know why, but the gentle touch and his reassuring words had made him relax like everything will be normal between them the way it used to be before that horrible day a month ago. He nodded and smiled. "I'm sorry, Alexander. I just, these three days were horrible without you. Please don't leave like that ever again, I... I know I'm being selfish, but I just can't, I love you, Alexander."

"Hey, I'm never leaving you again, Magnus. You can be selfish about that. Now, breakfast is waiting for you." He took the tray from the table and kept it between them. Magnus warmed the breakfast with the flick of his hands, earning a sweet kiss on his cheek from his husband.

"Perks of having a warlock husband." Alec grinned.

"Why don't you have work today?" Magnus asked with a mouthful of scrambled eggs and bacon.

"I do, I told Jia that I'll be working from home today, I wanted to spend time with my husband. I know I've been busy lately, and I wanted to make it up to you for that."

Magnus looked at his shadowhunter, guilt washing over him once again. 'How could I? How am I ever gonna tell you the truths, about thinking of breaking our marriage, about the fear of losing you, about my feelings, about.. about what happened with Camille? I can't lose you, never ever again.' he thought.

"Then I should be one hell of a lucky man! I got my man for a whole day to myself, what are we gonna do about it?" He asked playfully, pushing away his guilt, much to his own obliviousness that he had become an open book to his husband in the past five years.

"Let me guess, lots of cuddles and complete bed rest for you. And don't you dare think about anything else! You're not in perfect shape, so let me just take care of you today. Sounds like a plan?"

Magnus pouted but eventually agreed. He just wanted to be in his shadowhunter's arms, nothing more. They finished their breakfast in silence, stealing kisses in between or more like Alec showering his warlock with kisses and making up for his absence.

After breakfast, they cleaned the whole apartment together, then they both enjoyed a calming bubble bath, with Alec carefully cleaning and massaging the warlock, making him a jelly under his touch. After they were done, they changed into comfortable clothing and Alec carried his husband into bed bridal style, laying him gently on it. Then he took his Tab and sat on the bed on his side, doing his work from it. Magnus laid his head on his husband's lap and nuzzled into him, enjoying the soft touch of the shadowhunter's fingers through his wet hair and on his scalp. Not long after, he fell asleep on his lap.

Alec looked down at the warlock who was sleeping peacefully on his lap, his mind wandering to the possibilities of what he had gone through in his absence. He cursed himself for not being there for him, then leaned down and kissed him on top of his head, and went back to work.

______________________________

Magnus woke up to a delicious smell of food invading his senses. He blinked away his sleep and sat on the bed. That's when he realized that there was a large tray of food kept on the bed and his husband was nowhere to be seen. "Alexander?" He called softly.

"Coming!" He heard his voice, then soon Alec entered the room with a tray that had a large bowl in it. Magnus looked at him with confusion. "Chicken soup, for you."

Magnus looked at him then at the tray kept on the bed which had whole-wheat pita stuffed with diced chicken, black bean spread, spinach, and red peppers with minted brown rice. His heart melted to the highest degree. "Alexander, you don't have to do all this, I could have summoned-"

"Shut up and enjoy the food. You know I'm not gonna make all this again, right?"

Magnus looked at him with puppy eyes and pouted, he knew really well he gets the special treatment from his shadowhunter rarely and he always enjoyed it. Mostly they either ordered takeouts, summoned food, or Magnus was the one to make lunch and dinner.

Alec kissed his pouting husband, then kept the tray on the bed and started serving them both. Magnus crawled towards him and sat on his lap, literally. Alec sighed and shook his head.

"Feed me?" Magnus asked, or more precisely stated.

"Really Mags!"

"Pretty please." He looked at him with puppy eyes.

"You're impossible, love." He shook his head and kissed the tip of his nose.

They ate their lunch in comfortable silence with Alec feeding the grown-up child sitting on his lap. He wondered if he would ever be able to see this side of Magnus ever again. It was cute and annoying at the same time. They had eaten half of their lunch when Magnus's phone buzzed loudly, interrupting their cute moment.

"Ignore that!" Alec said sternly.

"That could be important, Alexander." He replied, chewing the mouthful of minted rice his husband fed him.

Just when Alec was about to reply, the phone buzzed again.

"Let me check it." He said as he stood up from his lap and went to the side table situated near his side of the bed on which his phone was kept. Just when he was about to pick up his phone, it buzzed again. He sighed then checked the messages, it was from an unknown number.

> Hey, love. Long time no see.

>I want to meet you, Magnus. I know you miss me.

>Meet me at the same club in Germany, I'm waiting for you.

Magnus gulped, his blood boiled reading the messages. 'How dare she!' he thought to himself.

"Magnus? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's a client, just a minute." He quickly typed back a reply.

To hell with you, Camille Belcourt. I don't care how you got my number. I'm not interested in meeting you, find yourself a new source for enjoyment, or rot in hell. I don't give a damn.<

>Oh, Magnus. I thought you enjoyed our last meeting. Too bad, I still want to meet you.

Go to hell, Camille. I'm not coming. Oh, sorry I forgot, you are the definition of hell.<

>You will, my love. Be here in ten minutes, or I'll feed on every mundane present in this bar and then convert them into a vampire.

You wouldn't.<

> You know me, Magnus. You know I will. Nine minutes remaining.

Magnus gulped, he knew if he wouldn't be there, she would feed on innocent mundanes, and there would be plenty of mundanes there. That bar was just like his Pandemonium, open for everyone. He waved his hands and quickly dressed.

"Magnus, what the hell? You're not going anywhere. Come back here right now." Alec stated when he saw him dressed up and ready to leave.

"Alexander, I'm sorry, but this is important. I need to be there."

"Magnus -"

"Alexander, I promise, I'll be fine, okay. I'll be back soon."

Alec sighed but nodded. Magnus quickly opened the portal and stepped into it.

__________________________________

Magnus stepped out of the portal in front of the bar. He quickly walked inside and scanned the bar. To his relief everyone was safe.

"Oh, my love. Always so protective and caring. Easy to lure to out, isn't it?" She came from behind and traced her fingers on his back and shoulders.

Magnus screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. "What do you want?" He asked coldly.

"Isn't that obvious, Magnus? I want you. I want us to be together again." She turned him towards herself and traced her pointed nails on his face.

Magnus shoved her hands away and looked at her with disgust. "It's never happening."

"You think that mortal will be able to keep you happy, huh? The moment he'll die, you'll come back running to me, like always. I'm your only true love, Magnus. I'll make you happy."

"Never. Happening." He spat.

That offended her, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she looked at him directly in the eyes. The pupils of her eyes became larger and wider, nearly touching the base of the iris, and the color became darker. "You know you want me, Magnus. You love me and only me. You want to explore every part of my body. Touch me everywhere. Touch me, Magnus. Kiss me."

"I... I want you." His lips moved automatically. His hands snaked around her waist against his will and held her tightly. He didn't want to do any of it, but his body wasn't listening to him.

She smiled maliciously between the kisses. Her hands rubbed against his chest, slowly undoing his jacket and opening his shirt's button.

Magnus felt disgusted. It felt really wrong but he was not in control of his body. They were working on their own accord. He wasn't able to stop himself and whatever was happening was getting more heated. He felt tears forming in the back of his eyes. Then something rang in his brain. 'I love you Magnus Lightwood Bane.'  the voice, his shadowhunter's voice. 'I am and will always be your loving husband.'  This time he was able to focus on his powers, he centered it on his hands and sent a huge shockwave in her body.

As soon as Camille felt the shockwave, she jumped and removed herself from his grasp, having a look of pure vengeance on her face.

"The hell, Camille Belcourt!? You encanto'd me. How low could you go?" His voice was dripping with hatred.

"How were you able to break it? You-"

Before she could complete it, Magnus put a freezing spell on her and ran out of the bar. He quickly opened the portal and ran into it before the spell wore off and Camille followed him.

_________________________________

The portal opened up in his bedroom, and he ran out of it. He almost stumbled and was about to fall when a strong pair of arms caught him.

"Magnus! Are you okay? What happened?" Alec looked at his husband with wide eyes. His jacket was almost falling off, a few of the shirt's buttons were undone, his hair was slightly messy and he had tears in his eyes.

"Mags? What happened?"

Before Magnus could answer, they heard a low whistling of windows from their living room.

"What was that?"

"Probably the wind. You didn't answer? What happened? Are you alright?" He quickly changed the subject. From the corner of his eyes, he saw an emerald blue blur vanishing into the clouds and sighed with relief.

"A.. I.." He looked everywhere but his husband. This was too much for him to keep to himself. He cursed himself for falling for her trap.

Alec cupped his cheeks and rubbed his thumbs gently below his eyes. "Mags." He said softly.

"A.. I.. Alexander, it.. it was Camille."

Alec's eyes widened at that. "What? Magnus why-"

"Th... the client, she was encanto'd. Camille was there already when I reached there. She.. she encanto'd me too, and.. and... I.. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He couldn't keep it inside anymore, he fell in his shadowhunter's arms and started crying uncontrollably.

Alec took in his husband's state and the realization hit him. He seethed with anger and swore to himself that she'd pay for her doings.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Alexander. Fo... forgive me. I.. I'm sorry." He managed to say between the sobs.

Alec held him tightly in his arms. "Shh, shh, it's okay, love, it's okay. You have nothing to apologize for. You didn't do anything. I'm not even mad at you. Don't say sorry for something you couldn't control. You said yourself she encanto'd you. Don't blame yourself, love." He kept holding him until his tears dried down, then left feather-soft kisses on his eyelids.

When Magnus fluttered his bloodshot eyes open and looked at his husband, he saw only pure love in his eyes. 'What have I done to deserve you? How am I ever gonna tell you the truth?' he thought to himself.

"You're not mad at me? If I'd never left, this could have been avoided. You told me to stay but I..." He trailed off and sniffed.

"Magnus, I'm not mad and don't think like that, okay? You didn't know. Let's not discuss this anymore. Hmm?"

"Okay." He whispered softly.

For the rest of the day, Magnus spent clinging to his shadowhunter for dear life. He was far too gone to pretend to be strong and resilient. They ordered takeout for dinner, this time Magnus didn't need to ask to be fed, Alec did it himself. He then carried his warlock to the bedroom in bridal style and changed him into his burgundy silk robe, then put him on the bed and wrapped himself around his warlock.

"Why do you love me so much, Alexander?" He whispered to himself, but to his dismay, his husband heard him.

"What kind of question is that, love?"

"What? I.. you.. heard it?"

"Hey." He rubbed his nose gently against his neck then kissed him softly at the nape of his neck. "Yes, I heard it. And to answer your question, I love you so much because you're wise, you're generous, you're brave, you're incredible, there's always a spark in you which lights up everything around you, you always manage to take my breath away, you always manage to make my heart beat faster, you always manage to make me love myself when I'm at my weakest, you always care for others like your own, you have the purest heart. You're the best thing that happened to me, Magnus Lightwood Bane. I can list a thousand more things if you want." He left feather-light kisses on his shoulder with each thing he said then finally he kissed him on top of his head.

A soft smile played on Magnus' lips listening to his husband's words. "I'm speechless, Alexander. Thank you."

"Sleep now, love. You need it. I love you."

"Love you too."

With that they drifted off to sleep, Alec's arms protectively wrapped around his husband, holding him in a tight yet gentle embrace.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 23: Medical Ethics

Y’all ever been to college?

Our new friend Vigdor has just pulled a pale, twitching human leg out of a poster tube, sheepishly admitting to Valeria that it’s his own.

Valeria blinks at it. “Well, it doesn’t appear to be bleeding demons, so that’s good?”

Shoshana sticks her head in the door, and has to pause to take in the sight. “Uh, bruh? Bruh? I have questions. Is that yours? I mean, like, yes, you HAVE it, but was it attached to-“

“That’s a bit tricky? It was amputated twice.”

“Twice?!”

“Once from me, and then, well, um. Once from an amalgam of sewn together body parts?”

(Gral and Shoshana pile into the room, because Oh, Lore?)

“When I was in the swamp, we were fighting a bunch of zombies led by this particularly nasty undead guy. We called it the Wailing Wight. At first it was just the usual undead hordes, but then a local leatherworker was found, torn apart and harpooned every which way, half his limbs torn off and stolen. After that, we started getting attacked by stitched together abominations cobbled together from human and animal pieces. I was there just trying to help the villagers, being a doctor and all. But that’s when I lost my actual limbs.”

“They got stolen, like the leatherworker’s?”

“I had to chop them off. Which, for the record, is not a fun time? The Wight’s harpoon has a kind of poison that rots everything it touches. So I had to amputate or, like, die. So I cut them off and his zombies, uh, stole them. And I managed to get one back? Kind of a long story. I don’t know how I recognized it, but – I guess I know my own leg like the back of my hand? Now I’m taking it back to Sturmhearst. There’s a weird fluid inside it; I want to study what’s going on with that so we can take care of the nastyboy in the swamp.”

“Well, I am generally against nastyboys,” says Shoshana, poking his foot in the ticklish bit. It squirms at her.

We’re headed to Sturmhearst anyway, so traveling together seems reasonable. We think about taking Fun Key Shortcuts, but that could backfire spectacularly, so we’ll play it safe and go the normal, boring way.

In the morning, we head downstairs. The inn is trashed. The stalwart barkeep Rene is not there; instead there’s a young elf sweeping out what debris he can. As we grab breakfast and the young fellow thanks us over and over for saving his friend’s life, Vigdor awkwardly wanders around casting Mending on chairs and tables that got a little too close to the tentacles and chainsaws. Shoshana doesn’t really do non-destructive magic, but she slips the barkeep some gold for repairs.

Vigdor’s too lopsided for a horse, so he’s gonna hop on in our cart. He’s very taken with the Eyegis, poking at it with fascination. “You can see the blood vessels in the eyes, despite no source for a blood supply! Do they have tear ducts? Have you ever seen the shield produce tears? Can you make it cry?”

Valeria gets very uncomfortable with this line of questioning and turns the eyes back into painted ones, put off by a Weird Stranger gettin’ all up in her business. Gral distracts him by asking about his fancy metal limbs.

Vigdor goes full technobabble on how the runes and machinery work. “Well, there’s three different kind of magical actuators on each joint, and they act as conduits for the dilithium crystals-” He knows the details secondhand from Bjork and none of us speak robotics, so if he ever needs serious repairs he’ll have to bring them back to Sturmhearst for the engineers to take a look at.

Valeria knows a bit about Jotunn runesmithing, but she’s never heard of it working to this degree of precision; before, she’d only heard of stuff like boats that row themselves, or a peg leg that has a little extra articulation. These are fully actuated limbs!

Val checks if the limbs are the same metal as our space wrench, but nope, they look like completely normal everyday metals. She’s not gonna inspect further, because she has RESPECT, unlike SOME people.

(“Hey, I didn’t try to pry the eyes open or anything!” Vigdor protests.)

She does notice one thing, though: Valeria recognizes runes from most magic systems even though she doesn’t know them well enough to use; her sister studied magic for a long time, so she knows what they look like. There’s one elaborate rune that appears on both Vigdor’s forearm and leg that is of no origin she’s ever seen.  

“How long’d it take Bjork to build this thing?” Shoshana asks, squinting at Vigdor’s kneecap.

“Well, I was unconscious for a good bit of it so…between a week and 2 months? He was already working on it when I, uh, had to amputate.”

“…did you KNOW you were gonna wake up with those things on?”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah. It took a while ‘cause the original blueprints they found were for somebody, like…really short for a human or really tall for a halfling? Something in between. Bjork had to resize the whole model to fit a human.”

“He, uh, FOUND blueprints?

“I can’t imagine he’d have made blueprints for a person who didn’t exist? It was all proportioned very strangely. I don’t know too much about it, you’d have to ask Professor Bjork.”

(One of the players asks if the strange rune, perhaps, says ISTC in a language the characters don’t know. It DOES, and we’re all very pleased with ourselves for previous-campaign references.)

The long road stretches on before us, and we have plenty of time to talk as we spend a week or two heading north toward the coast. We fill Vigdor in on the four flavors of Curse and the concept of the Prisoners, and that we suspect there’s major Key nonsense going on up at the university. (Heh heh, “major key.”)

Vigdor and Shoshana bond over being locals. Why are foreigners so weird about trolls?

Vigdor really, really wants to look at Twombly’s glasses. We explain to him that the Key could take his desire for knowledge and turn him into a cackling, dimension-hopping madman with a few extra eyeballs. He still wants to play with the glasses. Valeria protectively hides the Key map, just in case, flashing her Hunt fangs at anyone who asks about it.

After like a week of pestering everybody, Vigdor gets to look at the glasses. Disappointingly, when not looking at the Key map, the colorful lenses just make everything look slightly more those colors. Maybe Gral’s lutestrings look weird, but that could be the placebo effect. He tries flipping around the many lenses in different combinations, and finds that all of them make him look absolutely ridiculous.

Eventually after many days of travel, we can smell the ocean and the distinctive stench of a large number of humans living in one place. Vigdor takes in the familiar sight of his college hometown. Shoshana is dumbfounded that this many people can live on top of each other, while Valeria thinks it’s a quaint little town.

Up to the west, Sturm Castle squats on a cliff above the city, like a big hippo of knowledge. It looks like it was once a reasonable castle shape, but it’s had new wings and towers built onto it haphazardly until it’s a weird sprawling network of jammed-together architecture. By the edge of the cliff, in one of the more sensibly-built sections, a majestic lighthouse beams out over the bay. In the city below, the largest building appears to be a grand temple, with its roof carved in the shape of an open book. The perimeter of the city is outlined by strange wooden and metal towers, two or three stories tall with conical brass roofs.

Eh. It’s only got one castle, so it can’t be that good of a city compared to Aurentium.

Our cart is briefly stopped for a quick examination at the gate by a friendly city guardsman. He’s flanked by two of the same enormous owl-masked guards we saw accompanying Quercus and Ulmus. “Hi, welcome to Sturmhearst, folks! What brings you here?”

We all awkwardly try not to look at Vigdor’s leg bag.

“I’m, uh, here to visit Dr. Emily Thorpe?” he tries.

“Oh, visiting the university. Don’t need yer life story. Where you stayin’? I can recommend some inns. Oh, and check out the Scholar’s Temple while yer here!” He hands us a brochure from the Sturmhearst Tourism Board and steps back. “ALL RIGHT BIG GUYS, LET EM THROUGH!”

The owl guards don’t move.

“Oh, uh, I mean –“ He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a whistle. “Lemme see if I can remember how the doc told me to do this.” He blows a few sharp notes on the whistle, and the owl guards promptly step off the road to let us through.

Huh.

Vigdor makes an investigation check on those guards, who definitely weren’t around back when he was in school. They’re pretty bulky for humans – no, honestly, they’d be bulky even for goliaths. He’d heard a story from Professor Bjork that the school was hiring goliath mercs and dressing them in owl masks, but the professor had sounded like he hadn’t believed it much. Supposedly they’re silent because they don’t speak the language, but Vigdor’s pretty sure Bjork speaks Jotunn, so that excuse doesn’t quite hold up.

Once we’re out of the guards’ earshot, Gral pulls a huddle. “Vigdor, the Key’s a more recent influence, so let us know about anything new or significantly more abundant – that’s where we’ll need to search.”

Vigdor hmms. “The big brass towers weren’t here before. And the owl guys didn’t used to be a thing.”

Gral cuts another glance back to the owl guards, considering. “…How much of a faux pas is it to remove a Sturmhearst person’s mask?”

“I mean, if you’re dealing with the plague, it’s kind of a dick move? And dangerous? But most people – it’s like, the same rudeness of grabbing someone’s hat or jacket. For some people it’s badge of honor or superiority, y’know, how amazing they were to get through the gauntlet of Sturmhearst. But mostly it’s a practical tool of the job. We’re not, like, afraid to show our faces.”

Gral nods. “So you wouldn’t have to duel them, then.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, with bards it’s like ‘you are not deserving of your title’ and you have to duel about it. You know, like, how dare you slander my name, I’ll have to fight you for my honor?”

“Oh, uh, no, nothing like that. The mask is proof of office, that’s all.”

Before we get investigating, though, it’s late and we should rest. Vigdor wasn’t a palling-around-town type, but he rolls a nat 20 and knows the best inn in the city – not one of those touristy places on the square; the best-kept-secret on a side street that only the locals and regulars know about.

We have a lovely night around the docks of Sturmhearst. Shoshana spends like fifteen minutes just staring out to sea, because they MAKE boats that big???? This much water even EXISTS????? There’s a dragonborn ship from Aurentium, a goliath ship from Jotunhein, a couple of Galwan freighters, and even a ship crewed by colorful macaw aarakocra. (History check: while the Aquilians mostly died out, some of the ground-based aarakocra cultures survived. Valeria’s met macaw traders before in Aurentium; they tell lots of stories and do GREAT impressions.)

Valeria, meanwhile, holies some ocean water. They say Galwan clerics swear by holy seawater; salt repels demons, right? It’s gross harbor water but, whatever, it’s holy now. She also beats a sea captain at Man-go, presumably dock style. The inn’s equipped for foreign travelers, so it’s got a whole bar of draconic and goblin spices!

Gral, meanwhile, discovers the inn is near a bath house and enjoys finding out what a sauna is.

Morning comes, and Sturmhearst U awaits. Vigdor knows the main campus has the colleges of Engineering, Science, and Medicine, while the satellite campus across the bay houses the college of Ethics, which includes humanities like economics and history.

Valeria rolls for Order of the Rose knowledge. The Order actually has an arrangement with Sturmhearst when they’re working in Valdia – whenever the Order is sent on disaster relief, some Sturmhearst ethicists are sent to help coordinate. Valeria’s never worked with them personally, but the impression she’s gotten from her fellow knights is Not Great. From what she’s heard, they’re supposed to do triage and help direct the knights, but it seems like they spend the whole time sitting around debating absolutely horrible things. “Hey, if we brewed up some necromancy, could we use the skeletons of plague victims to transport supplies without spreading the infection?” Apparently they just sit around in corners debating whether that kind of shit is kosher or not, without ever actually DOING anything.

Also ethicists wear white instead of black like most Sturmhearst scholars, which is just pretentious. We then poke fun at an Order of the Rose knight calling anyone else pretentious.

Vigdor studied at the College of Medicine; he’s a doctor. But that’s not where he’s taking the leg.

“Why not Medicine? I mean, it’s a human body part, innit?” Shoshana asks.

“It’s…I have some concerns…regarding the, um. So, along with this leg, my arm was stolen, right? Not long after the arm was stolen, the sewn-together amalgams got a lot, uh, cleaner.”

We stare at him.

“…as if whatever stitched them together had my medical training.”

…oh.

“I’m a little hesitant taking that info to the College of Medicine,” he admits.

“Why?”

“There’s a lot of ‘for the greater good’ stuff with the College of Medicine sometimes. The College of Ethics keeps them in check. Anyway, there’s actually this thaumochemist I want to take a look at it.”

(We’d know the discipline as alchemy, but she hates that. She’ll go on a whole tirade about it. Somebody yells “Full Metal Thaumochemist” and we accidentally take a commercial break. We’ll never get tired of that joke.)

More of those owl guards are at the door, supervised by a businesslike white-coated member of the College of Ethics. His mask is a bit more abstract than the ones we’re used to; not modeled after a bird face like the regular scholars’. He lets Vigdor in with no problem, though he’s a bit suspicious of the rest of us. We’re with a doctor, though, so he’ll let it slide. “Welcome to Sturmhearst, may your visit be enlightening.” He does the same whistle we heard before and the guards step aside. Gral’s a string guy, he can figure out the notes easily enough but he doesn’t whistle.

“Nothing goes on here without Ethics knowing about it, huh,” Gral observes.

More owl guards are stomping around, some carrying heavy objects. Vigdor knows where he’s going, but asks an owl guard for directions, as an experiment. The owl guard doesn’t even notice him. He steps in front of the guard, who just steps around him very politely.

The castle is a nightmare to navigate, like Hoeska, but we have an expert tour guide. “The old keep, the part that used to be a castle – that’s where all the 101 classes are and the whole working hospital. All the additions are laid out super weird, and then there’s the tunnels underneath. The Chem students had WILD parties down there, they brewed up all SORTS of stuff. The lighthouse is a real lighthouse, but it’s also where admin is, and the dean’s and headmaster’s offices. Oh! DO NOT cross the librarians. Each college has its own library? Like, theoretically they share the whole collection, but which college keeps which books is kind of a blood sport…”

Shoshana and Gral hang back, feeling out of place. “Bards don’t really have a college, exactly?” Gral explains. “It’s more of a pilgrimage. I met the elders of each village and they imparted wisdom upon me?”

Shosh feels like an uneducated hick even by that standard.

We take a hairpin turn in one of the Science buildings and run into Professor Quercus! Or at least someone with a bird mask and a similar voice, chatting with some other masked scholar. “Ah! Yes! We made a lot of excellent discoveries before we started to run into problems – you see, there hadn’t been an event in some time, but if we could get in there to the source, we could really – well, my goodness! These are the people I was telling you about, who gave me such wonderful notes!” Quercus turns to us, sounding rather delighted. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here. Welcome to the world of knowledge! What brings you here? I thought you were having adventures and derring-do!”

“Well, it turns out our adventures led here!” Gral tells him.

Quercus nods enthusiastically. “I’d show you around, but I rather need to speak to the bursar! If you need anything, I’m sure you can find my offices without too much problem. And please, if you’ve encountered any interesting monsters, I’d love to hear details! Especially if you have samples!” Despite his keen excitement, Professor Quercus rolls a four and fails to notice our Shusva accessories.

“If you ever need a cup of tea and a biscuit, you’re welcome to stop by my office! I’d be more than happy to speak with you! And if you could do me a favor – well, I wouldn’t mind having you with me when I speak to the bursar! See, our expedition to Holzog has hit a bit of a snag. The events with that mist stopped happening, you see. Luckily, we managed to identify which house you were going to, and we were all set to investigate, but then the Baroness put a squadron of those damnable Condotierri to prevent us getting in – “

Gral shrugs, deliberately casual. “I don’t know why you’d go back; there’s not much to see besides what’s already in the notes.”

(Vigdor immediately rolls insight to see if Gral is lying. Unfortunately for him, bards are excellent liars.)

“Anyway. The bursar’s giving me an earful about continuing to fund the expedition. I’m considering withdrawing from Holzog and asking him to redirect the funds into a different project! For example, lots of interesting monsters have been seen around Barroch lately!”

Yes, definitely, we want him to go somewhere that’s not a Tempting Key Portal. Valeria and Gral tag-team Persuasion checks to sell him on interesting cases of monsters we’ve heard of around Barroch. If we’re fuzzy on the details – well, all the more reason to have someone get out there and take a closer look!

Quercus is rather taken by the idea. “If you would, Mr. Duu –“

“Um, actually, Duu is the tribe, my family’s name is-“

“-yes, if you could write me some letters, I might find it useful making the acquaintance of the locals while setting up camp. Sturmhearst hasn’t established an official relationship to your people yet’”

Gral agrees to write up a formal letter explaining the mission of Sturmhearst and the expedition to make introductions a bit smoother; the word of a bard will go a long way in gaining the cooperation of the orcs of Barroch. He’ll do a personal letter of introduction for Quercus, and a general letter to Shieldeater’s administration to explain who the heck these weird bird people are.

“Wonderful! Bring it by my office!” He gives us directions that make NO sense to anyone but Vigdor. We’re pretty sure several of those compass directions aren’t real words?

“Oh, and if you see an angry tall woman stomping around, tell her I’m not here! She’s mad at me for some reason I can’t discern. Good day!”

He scuttles off, presumably to hide.

We definitely want the gossip on that – Ulmus was mad at him about funding, and she definitely dissed his field of study. Is this what academia is like?

Vigdor confirms that the professors have all kind of weird beefs, interdepartmental politics, and personal feuds. “One of my professors gave me a B- in amputation – shows what he knows – purely because I was taking some classes outside the College of Medicine and he got all offended. It’s a lot of politics and bullshit, they’re all more concerned about their careers and publishing than actually important stuff.”

We find a door with a brass plaque: Dr Emily Thorpe, Thaumochemist. There’s a paper list tacked to her door with a list of courses: “Intro to Potion Brewing,” “Principles of Alchemy Thaumochemistry”

Vigdor knocks. “Yes, who’s there? Come in!” a voice calls.

“It’s Vigdor! Vigdor Gavril!”

“Ah, Vigdor!” A halfling woman in the requisite bird mask waves from behind a counter where she’s handling a set of proper Movie Science bubbling beakers and flasks. “Yes, you sent me that letter! You had something ‘interesting’ for me!”

“Yes, and you will see why I couldn’t be more detailed!”

She notices his metal arm as he starts pulling open his heavy waterproofed case. “Oh! I heard that Professor Bjork was giving you his prototype! How’s it working?���

“They’re loud and heavy and uncomfortable sometimes, but I have limbs! Can’t complain! But then I, uh, found one of my limbs again.”

He goes over to an open table and pulls out his entire-ass leg with a flourish, plus vials of hair and blood and strange unidentified liquids. Her eyes widen.

“Ah, this is yours!” She watches his toes wiggle. “Well, you don’t see that every day.”

“Yeah, I found it stitched to some kind of unholy undead abomination.”

“And that explains the Knight of the Rose. Hello, Kyr.”

“Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service!”

“Dr. Emily Thorpe, at your service as well, I guess? Pardon the mess in my lab, it’s not much but it’s home. Hand me that vial?” She pulls out a syringe and takes a sample of not blood, but oily black liquid, from the leg. “It will take some time, but I can write up a thaumaturgical profile without much difficulty. Do you mind if I keep it?”

“You can hang on to it. But I would appreciate discretion.”

“Yes, this will stay between me, your friends, and – oh, this is Hugo, he’s my teaching assistant. He’s been helping since the school was mobilized.” She turns to Vigdor’s clearly uneducated hick friends (not you, Valeria, you’re very fancy) and explains:

“In times of crisis, the University turns from education to innovation. Were this a disease, we’d be researching cures! If demonic, we’d be researching weapons or dimensional banishment. We haven’t really received direct orders this time, so everybody is doing their own thing, which I can’t say I mind. Mostly I’ve been helping other researchers with the practical application of their theorems.”

She scribbles out a hasty list. “Hugo, if you can go to the library and put these books on order? The Vigmar and the Auspelius especially would be useful, but don’t let the librarians kill anyone over them. And the Principles of Advanced Anatomy – tell them I won’t ask. But I do need it.” The grad student nods and hustles out of the room.

(Shoshana insights, out of paranoia. Hugo’s a good egg, though he might refer to thaumochemistry as alchemy.)

“Now, Dr. Gavril, do you want this leg back? How intact-“

“Want it back? Like, in the abstract, or on my body?”

She pulls out a vial of bubbling acid. “I’d like to put some of this on it and I’d like to see what happens.”

He blanches slightly. “Uh. Um. I have some proprietary-“

“Aw, no acid then,” she grumbles, stowing the acid with an audible sigh.

“Only do something you would do to living person’s leg. That they would survive!”

“How would I know? I’m a chemist, this is only, like, my second dead person!” She pauses. “…well, fifth.”

Shoshana starts looking around at all the alchemy equipment curiously. Everything here is clearly labeled with numbers, and letters that feel like numbers, and complex formulae, which hedgewitch potionery doesn’t really account for.

There’s a knock at the door. “Ah, that must be Hugo. Come in!”

Valeria instinctively body-blocks the leg from view.

It is not Hugo. In walk 3 white-clad ethicists. The gentleman at the front is in fancier robes – we suspect he’s the kind of fellow who has tenure – and he wears a powdered judge’s wig atop his mask. We immediately don’t like it. His two companions peer around the lab – one has a jeweler’s loupe built into the lens of his mask, and the other is carrying a big chime with runes carved into it, clearly a magic item of some sort.

“Dr Thorpe,” the leader intones.

“Sorbus,” she replies disdainfully.

“I see you have guests, is now a bad time?”

“Is it ever a good time?” Emily makes a point of tending to her samples and beakers busily.

“I suppose not. We have come to ask a few follow-up questions. Have you been visited at all by Professor Matthias Macker? Has he followed up on the project you were working on together?”

“I told you, no! I had no potions strong or precise enough for what he needed, and he’s never spoken to me since. That was months ago!”

“And no one has seen him since then. You understand why we need to know what you discussed.”

“Yeah, not since you quarantined the whole surgical wing!”

“That is not what I’m asking about. Has Macker’s assistant Greta Ruble visited you?”

“No. She’s a good kid, though, don’t hassle her.”

“We are simply making sure she is not a danger.”

Emily sputters angrily. “A danger to who?!”

“I cannot tell you that.” He turns to Valeria. “Kyr, it is always a pleasure to see a member of the Order here. I suppose if you’re here we can be assured nothing… unethical is happening,” he says, unpleasantly oily. “I am Professor Rigmor Sorbus of the College of Ethics; I lecture on legal and judicial ethics. These are my assistants, Charles and Pippin.”

Valeria bows with the precise degree of politeness required. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. In these times of mobilization, it falls to us as ethicists to supervise our colleagues’ noble efforts. Please, I implore you: if you see anything untoward or suspiciously unusual, I request you report it to the nearest representative of the College of Ethics.”

Emily butts in. “What happened to Eric Pelbort, his other assistant?”

“Mr. Pelbort has transferred to the College of Ethics and is assisting us with some research. We will let you know if that changes.” He tells her dismissively. “Kyr Argent, the College of Ethics has always been proud of our long association with the Order, and I would like to extend our deepest condolences for the tragedy of the Crusade. Should you have need of any assistance whatsoever, do not hesitate to ask. Our offices are on the satellite campus across the bay. If you were to visit, I’m sure many would love to speak to a paladin of the Order of the Rose.”

“We have business here, but I might be able to make time to stop by,” she equivocates.

“Very well. I will let you all get back to whatever it is you’re doing with that leg,” Sorbus says, turning neatly on his heel and taking his leave, his toadies hurrying in his wake.

(Yes, you guessed it: That was Professor Rowan, with his Tort Wig and his assistants Pip Loupe and Chime Charles.)

“Those guys give me the creeps,” Emily grumbles. “They used to be fine, but lately they’ve been doing this whole inquisitor act.”

Vigdor’s always known these guys as douchey blowhards. But now they’re douchey blowhards with AUTHORITY.

There’s always been a divide between Ethics and the other three colleges roughly the size of the harbor! The sciences don’t believe in debate, they believe in experimentation! Anyone who can spend an entire week talking without action is wasting time and breath. The College of Medicine thinks even less of them – they just get in the way of progress!

(IRL we all respect medical ethics, but Sturmhearst WAS founded on a fine tradition of graverobbing and leeches.)

Vigdor is primarily a surgeon, or he was, when he had two fully functional hands. (Two players at once: “HE GOT DR STRANGED!”) He had quite a few classes with Macker, the chair of the surgery department. Most people didn’t like the guy, except his surgical grad students who would defend him to the death. A bit of a hardass about proper procedure, but that’s probably not a bad quality for a surgeon. He was a local institution, so it’s pretty alarming he’s somehow gone rogue.

“His whole lab was quarantined?”

“The whole teaching wing, actually,” Emily tells us.

“Are there people in there? Some kind of sickness?”

“Not that I’ve heard. Ethics just put guards outside the labs and blocked everyone from going in. They’ve done it to a couple places around the school recently. The excuse is that someone was doing ‘unsafe experimentation’ that’s ‘poisoned the area’ or something?”

Wack. “How long have these quarantines lasted?”

“They don’t really end? A couple stopped after a few months, but some have been there for a year! Nobody goes in or out. Sometimes the white coats go in, but it’s pretty rare and they don’t stay long.”

“Is that what all the guards are for? Where’d they all come from?” Vigdor asks.

“Medicine used to be the ones, uh, hiring them.” (A quick insight roll notes that she hesitates on the phrase “hiring.”) “Lots of them still answer to whoever they were originally assigned to. But recently Dean Chidor from the College of Ethics took over that whole program, so a lot of the newer ones answer primarily to the ethicists. I mean, they all dress the same, so it’s kinda hard to tell? I haven’t asked a lot of questions, I’ve been trying to keep my head down since the whole thing with Macker.”

“What actually happened with him?”

“He’d been acting weird for a while,” she confides as she starts sticking pins in the leg and wiring them to a voltage generator. “He’d been working on something, some kind of extreme surgery – I think he was looking into a method of surgically removing Curse corruption. He was hitting roadblocks, though; he called in me and Alma Ulmus, who’s a College of Medicine bigwig.”

“Yeah, we met her in Bad Herzfeld!”

“I heard she’s here again, stalking around the halls complaining about funding. She knows more about his project than I do. Anyway, Macker sent me requirements for a healing potion he was gonna administer as part of some surgical procedure. I couldn’t get anything as powerful or precise as he needed. I’m a thaumochemist; I don’t know medicine that well. So it was beyond me to do that amount of gross tissue damage repair as controllably as they wanted it. I mean, I made some pretty nice innovations as far as the theory of potioncrafting, I’m hoping to get published as soon as it goes to peer review.

“But I couldn’t do what he needed, and eventually I got shut out of the project. Then one day he vanished. Alma set off for Bad Herzfeld and Macker stopped coming out of his lab. His assistants were still going in and out, but not long after that, the ethicists quarantined the place.”

“Has anyone else been quarantined?” Valeria asks.

“People from all three colleges got hit. I dunno about other ethicists, I haven’t heard about them quarantining anything of their own. But everyone else has. A group of engineering students were building a defense system to be deployed out to the Scar, and all of them got quarantined. Here in my department, Dr. Vilman – remember him? Stupid goatee, did a lot of stuff with crystals? – got shut down. Sometimes they quarantine the whole lab; sometimes they just shut down a project and everyone working on it gets a ‘guest lecture position’ over in Ethics. Sorbus said they got one of Macker’s assistants, Eric Pelbort. He had another one, Greta Ruble, but I guess she’s given them the slip.”

Emily’s got experiments to do on that leg, so we’ll let her get to it. As we head out, Gral asks one last question. “What’s up with those guards, by the way? Why do they only respond to those whistles?

“Uhhhh,” she says, as we fail our persuasion check. “They, er, don’t speak very good Valdian. Mostly foreigners, goliaths, the like. The whistles get their attention.”

Gral sighs and doesn’t push it. Vigdor’s already making plans to pickpocket a whistle. Valeria, since she has a direct invite to talk to the ethicists, considers the unheard-of paladin approach of Just Asking Them Directly.

First, though, Vigdor wants to check out the quarantine of Macker’s lab; he knew that professor well, and we’re all curious what’s been going down.

We walk on over to the surgical wing to case the joint. There’s a single owl guard blocking the hallway, presiding over a small barricade. A pleasant sandwich board sign states “Area quarantined by College of Ethics, apologies for the inconvenience.”

We try to walk in and the enormous guard holds out a hand to stop us. Shoshana tries to wiggle around him, like a cat trying to get at your dinner, but he impassively blocks her every move.

Gral tries a smoother approach. He begins with small talk; the guard doesn’t even twitch. He starts asking prying questions about the surgical ward. No response. Fine, then: he switches to Orcish, a sinister undertone weaving through his voice as he uses Words of Terror.

An insight roll reveals completely unchanged body language.

“Either they’re immune to fear or not a humanoid,” Gral reports back. “Not a single emotion. Definitely not goliath mercenaries.”

“Tryin’ to talk your way into the surgical wing?” says another chatty passerby. “Good luck. They got all the medical cadavers locked up in there and they won’t let us in.”

(Cadavers? Oh shit, we bet that’s the guard factory, theorize the players.)

“Oh, are you a med student?”

“Yeah. I work with Professor Herberts, or I used to, anyway. We needed a couple cadavers to do this comparison study about spleens; we got some weird ones from out in the wood, we compare spleens to see if place with thing don’t worry about it; need control spleen. And then these BIG DUMB IDIOTS wouldn’t let us in, and Herbert got transferred to the College of Ethics all of a sudden. He’s been gone a couple months.”

“How long do professors usually transfer for?” asks Gral.

“I mean, they usually pop over to give a lecture or two and come back by the end of the day.”

(Vigdor happens to remember that the College of Ethics also runs an asylum. They live in a big spooky castle and do dissections with guts and stuff, it can do a number on your head! Some of the ethicists have branched into the field of psychology. No reason to mention this when people are having extended stays on the ethics campus, of course…)

The student shrugs. “I gotta get to lecture. If you manage to get in there, any chance you can bring me back a couple spleens?”

We wave goodbye noncommittally, though Vigdor insists he can pop a spleen out of a corpse like a yolk from an egg. He’s a good surgeon!

Anyway, Vigdor went to school here, and the dice are on his side; he knows a side path through an old abandoned classroom into the surgical suite. He pops the lock on the door easily; all the undergrads used to go this way when slipping into lecture late, to get past the TA keeping track of tardies.

The guard is in earshot but facing the other direction, and he’s not even blinking, much less scanning around. Gral casts Silence on us and our very clanky party slips by easily.

Shosh sticks her head into the TA’s office. Nothing really stands out, but she swipes some interesting-looking notes from the desk drawers to look at later.

Meanwhile, Gral and Vigdor go into Macker’s office. The desk is an absolute mess, which is very unlike the guy Vigdor used to know. There are wheeled chalkboards crammed into the office, covered in scribbles and anatomical diagrams. Paging through the notes and glancing over the chalkboard, Vigdor makes a decent medicine check and can at least figure out what problem Macker was working on.

Based on what Dr. Emily told us, Macker’s trying to develop a surgical procedure. The issue is that whatever he’s doing would cause so much physical trauma that it’d kill the patient, and he’s looking for some way to prevent that. There are lists of healing options: formulas, spells, potions, nonmagical stabilization methods to keep the patient alive while various tissues are extracted from the body.

Gral’s unimpressed. Healing methods? That’s pretty tame for forbidden knowledge.

To Vigdor’s experienced eyes, this stuff looks mega-advanced and highly experimental, but Gral’s right – it’s not anything you’d scramble to censor.

Weirdly enough, the place doesn’t look ransacked, only disheveled and a little dusty. Macker’s notes haven’t been moved since he was here. Maybe this isn’t what the ethicists were after?

We head to cadaver storage while Valeria keeps watch. Cadaver storage is creepy as hell, but only because it’s, y’know, a room full of cadavers. A lot of the bodies, kept stable with Gentle Repose, appear to be Cursed, but that’s hardly weird. What’s so crazy they’d keep it hidden from everyone?

Vigdor opens the door to the dissection labs, Gral’s Silence deadening any ominous warning he might have had from the room beyond. Yes, the table here’s been recently used, and the bizarre symbols scrawled on the chalkboards have spilled onto the surrounding floor and walls, but Vigdor’s eyes are drawn to where the chalkboard peels away like skin to reveal a strange, multicolored, impossible space. The floor begins to take the shape of a stone hand that projects out into the shimmering void, joining a daisy-chain of enormous hands that form a walkway out to a marble platform floating in space.

Gral takes his Silence spell with him and runs to get Valeria.

Eyes starry, watching entire worlds and impossible shapes spinning through iridescent mists, Vigdor takes his first heady hit of Key taint.

As we cut session, Valeria considers that the ethicists may actually have a point.

[sukirichi]

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

y/n - ‘I was born to make everyone’s life a living hell’ maam this LINE?! JAW DROPPED, TIME STOPPED being insecure all her life and wanting to live up to the expectations to her dad just to have that sliver of attention from him, that sentence gives us a glimpse on how little she felt despite being accomplished, rather successful actually because she always cleans her boss’ mess have a lot of baggage to unpack. and when the secret was confirmed, her anger rejects all of the entity that ties with her past because both her parents deprived her for the things she was supposed to have– becoming greedy to fulfill those. then eventually, somehow, going back to her roots aka being humble after having the talk with her dad. As most of her insecurity started because of him and how she had to be the bigger person for his other family, clearing out the misunderstanding between them brought a sense of peace  while she’s settling in the restless turn of events.

and with our main man gojo, this guy, it is not wise to- 😤😤 how can you say you’re engaged after doing the body tango huh? esp when you said you want y/n to be your wife? oh gee and the revelation of his past relationship with mia and how he sees her in y/n is so fucked up. can’t help but think that satoru wanting to marry and be this lovey-dovey with y/n is just him reliving the moments that mia never gave him in the past. and y/n accepting that their current relationship is based on how they’re filling up the cracks in their needs and settling for the sake of familiarity. imagine how deep in love our girl is to keep satoru in her life 💔 im still in it for the second lead agenda

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

BUT i know you mentioned this many times but laywer! naoya all poised and in his best behavior while helping y/n in her new situation has my heart go💕💕 winning lots of cases and is known in his field, he proved that he is both beauty and brains. and the pen spin??? man be pulling those fast spins either to distract or impress the person he is talking to flashing those perfect white pearls wtf now i can’t get that out of my head naoya brain rot 🥵🥵 also celebrity chef! sukuna in charge of all those delicious, exquisite cuisines? imma make myself broke just to taste his masterpiece🥲 ooh but how about him being a michelin star chef and owning a michelin-starred resto?! no doubt, left and right you see this man appearing on some high food magazine on the cover 😊😊 oh oh i also saw that supermodel! choso?? also his face is plastered on magazines AND luxurious advertisements ex. shibuya crossing! where most people be drenched in his glorious presence yea weird shibuya arc ref pls kill me and everyone talks how handsome and intimidating he is while he just have a rbf and only the closest people in his life get to see him drop that front 😌😌

with that in mind, imagine supermodel! choso being a godfather to the baby of y/n?? he would go soft immediately at the sight of the child and would probably love giving lots of branded clothes it will be good enough for more than a year ☺️🥲😭

oh and there is this one scene in chp7 that reminded me of the recent korean movie i watched i dont wanna say it in case you wanna check it out its called sweet and sour and oh god idk why but watching it, mind keeps on prompting your fics 😬😬 maybe bcos i some of your fic always had med related topics and the main actress role there is a nurse. i remember that you’re on your clinic training so maybe thats why 😳oohh pls don’t forget to take breaks and be safe heart and oh ur a psych major too? oh wow hi ig in relation to one actress in the sweet and sour fic, she was also in a kdrama the heirs- which was popular at the time with it being packed with some solid household actors and actresses. sky castle tho, ig it relates to the theme of reckless more because its mostly how parents from the upper class will mindlessly destroy someone’s life to attain their materialistic desires  🤧🙂

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

i hope you’re doing well nowadays :’)) we need to find gege the best chiropractor to take care of his back, so good that it’ll make naoya respawn to life 🙂 suki i don’t think i’ll get tired of saying how much i love your work that it feels illegal im reading it for free 💔. i don’t really have much to offer, but im wishing you good health and success in your life :’)) aah i’ve mentioned this already but take care always 💕💖😊🥰

- 🍳

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

y/n - ‘I was born to make everyone’s life a living hell’ maam this LINE?! JAW DROPPED, TIME STOPPED being insecure all her life and wanting to live up to the expectations to her dad just to have that sliver of attention from him, that sentence gives us a glimpse on how little she felt despite being accomplished, rather successful actually because she always cleans her boss’ mess have a lot of baggage to unpack. and when the secret was confirmed, her anger rejects all of the entity that ties with her past because both her parents deprived her for the things she was supposed to have– becoming greedy to fulfill those. then eventually, somehow, going back to her roots aka being humble after having the talk with her dad. As most of her insecurity started because of him and how she had to be the bigger person for his other family, clearing out the misunderstanding between them brought a sense of peace  while she’s settling in the restless turn of events.

and with our main man gojo, this guy, it is not wise to- 😤😤 how can you say you’re engaged after doing the body tango huh? esp when you said you want y/n to be your wife? oh gee and the revelation of his past relationship with mia and how he sees her in y/n is so fucked up. can’t help but think that satoru wanting to marry and be this lovey-dovey with y/n is just him reliving the moments that mia never gave him in the past. and y/n accepting that their current relationship is based on how they’re filling up the cracks in their needs and settling for the sake of familiarity. imagine how deep in love our girl is to keep satoru in her life 💔 im still in it for the second lead agenda

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

BUT i know you mentioned this many times but laywer! naoya all poised and in his best behavior while helping y/n in her new situation has my heart go💕💕 winning lots of cases and is known in his field, he proved that he is both beauty and brains. and the pen spin??? man be pulling those fast spins either to distract or impress the person he is talking to flashing those perfect white pearls wtf now i can’t get that out of my head naoya brain rot 🥵🥵 also celebrity chef! sukuna in charge of all those delicious, exquisite cuisines? imma make myself broke just to taste his masterpiece🥲 ooh but how about him being a michelin star chef and owning a michelin-starred resto?! no doubt, left and right you see this man appearing on some high food magazine on the cover 😊😊 oh oh i also saw that supermodel! choso?? also his face is plastered on magazines AND luxurious advertisements ex. shibuya crossing! where most people be drenched in his glorious presence yea weird shibuya arc ref pls kill me and everyone talks how handsome and intimidating he is while he just have a rbf and only the closest people in his life get to see him drop that front 😌😌

with that in mind, imagine supermodel! choso being a godfather to the baby of y/n?? he would go soft immediately at the sight of the child and would probably love giving lots of branded clothes it will be good enough for more than a year ☺️🥲😭

oh and there is this one scene in chp7 that reminded me of the recent korean movie i watched i dont wanna say it in case you wanna check it out its called sweet and sour and oh god idk why but watching it, mind keeps on prompting your fics 😬😬 maybe bcos i some of your fic always had med related topics and the main actress role there is a nurse. i remember that you’re on your clinic training so maybe thats why 😳oohh pls don’t forget to take breaks and be safe heart and oh ur a psych major too? oh wow hi ig in relation to one actress in the sweet and sour fic, she was also in a kdrama the heirs- which was popular at the time with it being packed with some solid household actors and actresses. sky castle tho, ig it relates to the theme of reckless more because its mostly how parents from the upper class will mindlessly destroy someone’s life to attain their materialistic desires  🤧🙂

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

i hope you’re doing well nowadays :’)) we need to find gege the best chiropractor to take care of his back, so good that it’ll make naoya respawn to life 🙂 suki i don’t think i’ll get tired of saying how much i love your work that it feels illegal im reading it for free 💔. i don’t really have much to offer, but im wishing you good health and success in your life :’)) aah i’ve mentioned this already but take care always 💕💖😊🥰

- 🍳

y/n becomes a real baddie when she’s pissed off 😫

hmm y/n wasn’t really working hard for her dad’s attention, it was more like she felt so left out and unwanted (she feels unwanted wherever she goes) that she just decided to pack up and support them from afar bcos to her, she’s so alienated in her dad’s family that she felt like she had to work hard to earn a spot in their table. she knows she’s the outsider but she wants to feel like she can be part of them, that she is also a child deserving of love and care, but becos her stepmom focused more on her actual kids and her own dad was too busy with his new family now, it made y/n feel that she had to do something to be worthy of that.

that’s why most of the money she made working in tokyo was still wired to her family; she put her brothers in school and supported them, all because she hoped it would make them accept her more. now, things are different because she finally found her biological family, but even if valeria and co. still don’t want her, y/n is now more focusing on building something that’s truly hers that no one can take away. yes yes, she did become greedy, but more for power than of acceptance. she got to a point she doesn’t care as much vying for her parents’ approval and now thinks her luxury gives her comfort; only because at least she has that much. like she said in the latest chapter, happiness was not what she needed, it was stability and money - all things she lacked before.

and yea she did go back to her roots! all of her issues started with her dad anyway but that part is slowly patching up 🩹💔 oooh actually your theory is right bestie 🧐 gojo found y/n interesting bcos she reminded him of mia, so the more she pushed him away, the more he’s like wait, i’ve been here before, let’s not repeat past mistakes but i can do better now. on the part where gojo talked to mia while she was asleep, notice how he said he’s given a second chance to do better now, all because he couldn’t do them with mia but he could with y/n.

ohhh actually y/n was the one who established that ‘fulfilling mutual need and settling for familiarity instead of being lonely’ type of relationship. gojo avoided her for weeks and he’s pretty settled in keeping his distance, but she was the one who sought him out. deep down, y/n is afraid if she doesn’t at least use him as an anchor to her more humble roots, then she might spiral out of control and end up like valeria, thus using him as a ‘distraction’ but in reality, she needs his comfort to be grounded.

SECOND LEAD AGENDA OMG LETS GOOO 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ geto the fine fine option.

NO BESTIE MOMENT U MENTIONED LAWYER NAOYA I JUST KNEW I WAS GONNA SCREAM. okay but lawyer! naoya is so fine, i love his character so much bcos he’s a pure bean. originally, i was gonna make him an antagonist but i found he had more potential as a good, supportive character. HIS PEN SPIN HELPPP WHY COULDN’T HE JUST BEEN OUR BABY DADDY 😫 he pulls them fast spins bcos he’s nervous btw HAHAHAHA y/n can be quite intimidating and lawyer! naoya is sometimes too precious.

celebrity chef! sukuna is MEAN! he was pictured after gordon ramsay so lmao. omgggg sukuna being famous not only for his food but also his handsomeness 😳 he gets so cocky over how no one can get in his level while popping a battle of champagne, listening to ‘careless whisper’ while dancing to his reflection in the mirror 😤

also yoo supermodel! choso is THE hot shit 🥵 he’s so famous his schedule is packed for an entire year and a half and those are just for very selected brands and designers! ugh imagine going to work on the subway when you see supermodel! choso with rbf posing sexily and you swoon because he’s so sexy. plot twist that choso doesn’t know how to drive bcos as a kamo family member, they grew up with drivers taking them to and fro, so when his driver got sick and everyone else was busy, supermodel choso takes the subway himself and hides behind a face mask and cap while still wearing extravagant clothes that makes him stand out more. he does not have ‘subtle’ on his book at all.

and yeah people say he’s intimidating but its more his height and build + rbf! in reality, he’s just as soft and sweet as naoya, but both of them go into protective mode when someone they care about is being crapped on. and boy when they DO get into “what did you just say?” mode, better run away 🏃🏻‍♀️ supermodel! choso is also an heir to the kamo empire though not after the business, but he still has enough power to take you down in a second.

meanwhile, lawyer! naoya didn’t become this successful without being so savage yet composed he makes you question your entire existence before he drags you to court. lawyer! naoya is so scarily convincing that he can make you plead guilty even tho you did nothing wrong 💀

aaaah omg supermodel! choso LOVES babies actually! as the eldest child who looked after his brothers bcos the kamo parents are always away for work, being a father figure is so natural to him. i can picture him being the one who cries harder than gojo if the baby is born bcos he’s so excited, then reads poems to the baby before sighing that childbirth is such a beautiful thing 🥺

omg i know sweet n sour, the actresses are one of my faves tho i haven’t watched it yet! oooh they’re a nurse? i didn’t know that 🧐 i actually finish my short training in a week so i’ll be heading on to heavy majoring in psychology! wait bestie are YOU also a psych major 😳💕 oh and i see i see, sky castle *jots that down for future references* reckless actually has lots of significance in terms of the parents’ roles so i’m excited to see that! and aww thank you so much, can’t believe i made it in someone’s top three 🥺💕

HELP AHSKWKW i’m gonna call the best chiropractor in the world and send them gege’s way, i’ll cry a river if that’s what it takes to bring my boo back to life 😭 and noo baby the support already means a lot to me, i’m just happy to indulge in my hobbies and share it wih you all so thank you very much for everything 🥺 please take care of yourself too n have a nice day!! kith MWAH 💕

[jadelotusflower]

November Roundup

Some writing success this month - I finished and posted a new chapter for Against the Dying of the Light, and made progress on The Lady of the Lake and Turn Your Face to the Sun. I didn’t work much on my novel, but I did do some editing on the first third so that’s progress.

Words written this month: 6647

Total this year: 67,514

November books

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo - joint winner of the 2019 Booker Prize (with The Testaments by Margaret Atwood) this was an engrossing and interesting read. Stylistically unusual formatting and scant use of punctuation that is a bit jarring at first, but you quickly adapt as you read. There’s no plot as such - instead the story is formed by vignettes of twelve black women and their disparate yet interconnected lives. We have mothers and daughters, close friends, teachers and students, although the connections aren’t always obvious at first - we can be exposed to a character briefly in the story of another with no idea that she will be a focus later on. It’s very skillfully done, to the point whereupon finishing I wanted immediately to re-read (but alas, it was already overdue back to the library). There is so much ground covered that we are really only given a glimpse into the characters lives, but there is a diversity of intergenerational perspectives of the African diaspora in the UK, and I highly recommend.

The Evening and the Morning by Ken Follett - after finishing The Pillars of the Earth I had intended to read the sequel, but this was available on the library shelf and I had to place a hold on World Without End, so the prequel came first. Set sixty years before the Conquest (150 before Pillars) it primarily addresses the growth of the hamlet of Dreng’s Ferry into the town of Kingsbridge, through the lives of a monk with a strong moral code, a clever and beautiful noblewoman, and a skilled builder, working against the machinations of an evil bishop. Sound familiar? This is Follet’s most recent work, and I do wonder if he’s running out of ideas as this covers very similar thematic ground.

Ragna is a compelling female character, but once again the romance-that-cannot-be with Edgar is tepid, Aldred is a very watered down version of Prior Philip, and there’s no grand framing device such as building the cathedral to really tie to all together (although things do Get Built, and it’s interesting but not on the level of Pillars). This is the tail end of the Dark Ages and it shows - Viking raids, slavery, infanticide - and while it seems Follett’s style is to put his characters through much tragedy and tribulation before their happy ending, I wish writers would stop going to the rape well so readily. But at least the sexual violence isn’t as...lasciviously written as in Pillars? Scant praise, I know. But Follett’s strength in drawing the reader into the world and time period is on display, made even more interesting in this era about which we know very little.

Women and Leadership by Julia Gillard and Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala - I have a great deal of respect for Julia Gillard, Australia’s first female Prime Minister who was treated utterly shamefully during her tenure and never got the credit she deserved, perhaps excepting the reaction to her iconic “misogny speech” whichyou can enjoy in full here:

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Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala was the first woman to be Minister of Finance and Foreign Affairs in Nigeria, was also the former Managing Director of the World Bank, and currently a candidate for Director-General of the WTO.

This is an interesting examination of women in leadership roles, comparing and contrasting the lives and experiences of a select few including (those I found the most interesting) Ellen Sirleaf, the first female President of Liberia, Joyce Banda, the first female President of Malawi, New Zealand’s current Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern, and of course, Gillard and Okonjo-Iweala themselves.

November shows/movies

The Vow and Seduced: Inside the NXIVM Cult - I’ve been following the NXIVM case for a while now, when the news broke in 2017 I was surprised and intrigued that it involved actresses from some of my fandom interests - Alison Mack (Smallville), Grace Park and Nikki Clyne (Battlestar Galactica), and Bonnie Piasse (Star Wars). Uncovered: Escaping NXIVM is an excellent podcast from that point in time that’s well worth a listen. There’s been a lot of discussion comparing these two documentaries and which one is better, but I feel they’re both worthwhile.

The Vow gives a primer of NXIVM as a predatory “self improvement” pyramid scheme/cult run by human garbage Keith Reniere, from the perspective of former members turned whistleblowers Bonnie Piasse, who first suspected things were wrong, her husband Mark Vicente who was high up in the organisation, and Sarah Edmondson who was a member of DOS, the secret group within NXIVM that involved branding and sex trafficking. Seduced gives more insight into the depravity and criminality of DOS from the pov of India Oxenburg, just 19 when she joined the group and who became Alison Mack’s “slave” in DOS - she was required to give monthly “collateral” in the form of explicit photographs or incriminating information about herself or her family, had to ask Mack’s permission before eating anything (only 500 calories allowed per day), was ordered to have sex with Reniere, and other horrific treatment - Mack herself was slave to Reniere (as was Nikki Clyne) and there were even more horrific crimes including rape and imprisonments of underage girls.

Of course each show has an interest in portraying its subjects as less culpable than perhaps they were (there were people above and below them all in the pyramid after all) - Vicente and Edmondson in The Vow and Oxenburg in Seduced, but what I did appreciate about Seduced was the multiple experts to explain how and why people were indoctrinated into this cult, and why it was so difficult to break free from it. This is a story of victims who were also victimisers and all the complications that come along with that, although I’m not sure any of these people are in the place yet to really reckon with what happened and all need a lot of therapy.

Focusing on individual journeys also narrows the scope - there are other NXIVM members interviewed I would have liked to have heard a lot more from. There is also a lot of jumping back and forth in time in both docos so the timeline is never quite clear unless you do further research. I would actually like to see another documentary one day a bit further removed from events dealing with the whole thing from start to finish from a neutral perspective. The good news is that Reniere was recently sentenced to 120 years in prison so he can rot.

I saw value in both, but you’re only going to watch one of these, I would say go for Seduced - if you’re interested in as much information as possible, watch The Vow first to get a primer on all the main players and then Seduced for the full(er) story.

The Crown (season 4) - While I love absolutely everything Olivia Coleman does, I thought it took a while for her to settle in as the Queen last season and it’s almost sad that she really nailed it this season, just in time for the next cast changeover (but I also love everything Imelda Staunton does so...) This may be an unpopular opinion, but I wasn’t completely sold on Gillian Anderson as Thatcher - yes I know she sounded somewhat Like That, but for me the performance was a little too...affected? (and someone get her a cough drop, please!) 

It is also an almost sympathetic portrayal of Thatcher - even though it does demonstrate her classism and internalised misogyny, it doesn’t really explore the full impact of Thatcherism, why she was such a polarising figure to the extent that some would react like this to her death:

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But I suppose it’s called The Crown, not The PM.

Emma Corrin is wonderful as Diana, and boy do they take no prisoners with Charles (or the other male spawn). I was actually surprised at how terrible they made Charles seem rather than both sidesing it as I had expected (but perhaps that’s being saved for season 5). It does hammer home just how young Diana was when they were married (19 to Charles’ 32), how incompatible they were and the toxicity of their marriage (standard disclaimer yes it’s all fictionalised blah blah). The performances are exceptional across the board - Tobias Menzies and Josh O’Conner were also standouts and it’s a shame to see them go.

I was however disappointed to see that the episode covering Charles and Di’s tour of Australia was not only called “Terra Nullius” but the term was used as a very tone deaf metephor that modern Australia was no longer “nobody’s land/country”. For those who aren’t aware, terra nullius was the disgraceful legal justification for British invasion/colonisation of Australia despite the fact that the Indigenous people had inhabited the continent for 50,000 years or more. While the tour was pre-Mabo (the decision that overturned the doctrine of terra nullius and acknowledged native title), there was no need to use this to make the point, especially when there was no mention at all of the true meaning/implication of the term.

The Spanish Princess (season 2, episodes 4-8)- Sigh. I guess I’m more annoyed at the squandered potential of this show, since the purpose ostensibly was to focus on the time before The Great Matter and give Katherine “her due” - and instead they went and made her the most unsympathetic, unlikeable character in the whole damn show. (Spoilers) She literally rips Bessie Blount’s baby from her body and, heedless to a mother’s pleas to hold her child, runs off to Henry so she can present him with “a son”. I mean, what the actual fuck?

I’m not a stickler for historical accuracy so long as it’s accurate to the spirit of history (The Tudors had its flaws, but it threaded this needle most of the time), but this Katherine isn’t even a shadow of her historical figure - she’s not a troubled heroine, she’s cruel and vindictive, Margaret Pole is a sanctimonious prig, and Margaret Tudor does little but sneer and shout - the only one who comes out unscathed is Mary Tudor (the elder), and it’s only because she’s barely in it at all. It’s a shame because I like all of these actresses (especially Georgie Henley and Laura Carmichael) but they are just given dreck to work with.

This is not an issue with flawed characters, it’s the bizarre presentation of these characters that seems to want to be girl power rah rah, and yet at the same time feels utterly misogynistic by pitting the women against each other or making them spiteful, stupid, or crazy for The Drama. I realise this is based on Gregory so par for the course, but it feels particularly egregious here. (Spoilers) At one point Margaret Pole is banished from court by Henry, and because Katherine won’t help her (because she cant!) she decides to spill the beans about Katherine’s non-virginity. Yes, her revenge against the hated Tudors is...to give Henry exactly what he wants? Even though it will result in young Mary, who she loves and cares for, being disinherited? Girlboss!

This season also missed the opportunity to build on its predecessors The White Queen/Princess and show why it was so important to Henry to have a male heir - the Tudor reign wasn’t built on the firmest foundations and so needed uncontested transfer of power, at the time there was historic precedent that passing the throne to a daughter led to Anarchy, and wars of succession were very recent in everyone’s memory. At least no one was bleating about The Curse this time, which is actually kind of surprising, because the point of the stupid curse is the Tudor dynasty drama.

But it’s not all terrible. Lina and Oviedo are the best part of the show, and (spoilers) thankfully make it out alive. Both are a delight to watch and I wish the show had been just about them.

Oh well. One day maybe we’ll get the Katherine of Aragon show we deserve - at least I can say that the costumes were pretty, small consolation though it is.

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 3, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 3: The Stolen Bracelet

Eirika's army continued to stealthily march west. Once again, they were not once attacked by Grado soldiers along the way, granting them another brief moment of peace and quiet.

When they reached the end of the mountain road, they saw a large forest in front of them. From afar, the tree leaves were so thick they looked not green, but black, proving the forest’s old age.

"That is the Za’ha Forest.” Seth pointed at the trees and explained. "Once we pass through it, we will arrive in a town called Serafew. From there onwards, we will be in Grado territory… and Renvall Castle will be right before us."

"We're finally almost there. And I will be able to reunite with Brother…" Eirika said, voice full of excitement. But her words were cut short when something strange came into the edges of her field of vision.

Something was glowing and moving towards them from between the trees. She could not tell what it's true form was, but it sent a chill down her spine. "Seth, what is that? Ah, there it is again…"

As they continued closer the forest, and they were able to catch a better glimpse of that figure and another among the trees, they couldn’t believe their eyes.

The first looked like a rotting corpse. It wriggled through the trees by dragging itself along with stiff, awkward movements. The second was a giant eyeball, emanating a faint light as it floated through the air.

Both were grotesque, unnatural beings that none of them had ever seen anything like before.

Seth ordered the entire army to halt. The horses neighed uneasily, and their bodies were shaking. The soldiers also slowly began to shiver, one by one.

“What are they? They cannot be… human... but also not animal…?” Eirika asked.

"This is my first time seeing anything like this as well. It appears that powers we know nothing of are at work here in this forest…”

“Is there a road that goes around it?”

“Unfortunately, there is not. We can go back the way we came and choose another road, but that will take time.”

Eirika bit her lip. She wanted to rescue Ephraim as quickly as possible, meaning she couldn’t agree to turning back around down the mountain road. “Then we have no choice but to go straight through this forest…”

“Let’s go.” Seth ushered his horse to begin moving once again. 

But before he could even take a single step, a young man appeared. He had orange, wavy hair, and was coming towards them. Eirika recognized his clothing as that of a monk. He was still young, but looked suited to be a clergyman. 

When Seth stopped his horse, the monk called out to him in a worried tone, “Travelers, the path ahead of you through the Za’ha Forest is very dangerous. I am sure you can even see that from here. Unnatural creatures are roaming about within it, so It would be best if you turned back.”

“It is very urgent that we reach our destination quickly. Whatever it might take to do so, we must go through this forest.” Eirika answered.

The monk’s expression clouded. “Is that so… Then there is nothing else I can say. Please hurry directly south, and be careful not to become surrounded by these creatures.”

“We will.... But what is going on inside? What in the world are they…?”

“Monsters.” The young monk said with a sigh. “I apologize. I haven’t introduced myself yet. My name is Artur, and I am a monk. My monastery ordered me to purge this land of monsters. However, there are too many for me to handle all on my own…”

Eirika couldn’t believe her own ears.

She’d only ever heard about monsters in books, which explained that they existed long, long ago as the Demon King’s servants when he waged war upon the continent. However, when the Demon King was defeated, they were supposed to have vanished along with him. Was it even possible for them to appear in this age?

“Monsters are a thing of legend, aren’t they?”

“It is understandable if you do not believe it. But they are real, and wandering this forest. And they are not only here. I’ve been told that, recently, there have been sightings of them in every region of this continent.”

“What did you just say…!?” Eirika was in complete shock.

However, the unbelievable was happening. And not just as a response to the Grado Army’s sudden invasions… something much bigger and terrifying was happening across Magvel.

She wanted to ask the young monk to tell her more, but there was no time.

“Lady Eirika! A monster is coming this way!” Seth shouted.

Eirika froze. The giant eyeball monster was floating towards her.

She was already used to fighting human opponents, but she had no idea how she should fight something like this. Her entire army started to panic.

"Please leave this to me." Artur said. He turned towards the monster without hesitation.

Eirika broke out in a cold sweat. There should be no way that a young man with such a small build, without a weapon in his hands, could put up a fight against a monster...

But that which she couldn't believe happened before her very eyes.

"Leave this land, you impure beast! It is not yours to claim!" Artur said in a harsh tone that was the complete opposite of the one he'd spoken to Eirika with, then raised one of his hands.

A light so bright that it blinded Eirika formed at the tips of his fingers.

Artur swung his hand towards the monster, throwing the concentrated ball of light at it.

The light flashed, and in the moment that Eirika was blinded, the monster’s body disintegrated without a trace.

Members of the church can follow one of two paths. Some, like Moulder, are given staves with which to heal, while others learn offensive light magic. In contrast to his kind outward appearance, this young man seemed to be a wielder of the latter.

This sight filled Eirika with courage. Though these creatures may be monsters, they were not enemies that could not be damaged. They could be fought and defeated.

"All units, attack! Provide back up for Artur!" Seth yelled and dismounted his horse. Those who'd trembled at first sight of the monster returned to their usual calm.

"Go!" Ross shouted, causing Franz, Vanessa, and several others to assume a battle stance. Moulder held his staff up with one hand, preparing to immediately heal anyone who may be injured. Colm and Neimi also steeled themselves for battle, staying close together with their weapons in hand.

"There is a river to the south!" Artur called out to everyone when he saw that they were finally ready to rush into the forest. "Just beyond the river is a village. A friend of mine should be there, guarding it all by herself. Please do your best to help her!"

"Understood.” Eirika nodded. “We'll leave her to you, Vanessa!"

A pegasus knight wouldn't need to cross the bridge, and could fly over the river in a single swoop. 

Vanessa guided her pegasus to lightly take off into the sky.

The monsters continued coming as if they were bursting out of the ground. They would even cast long range surprise attacks every so often from around hidden corners.

However, Eirika’s army did not falter. Though the foul odor of the monsters made them feel sick, fortunately, these enemies were that much easier to cut down than human foes.

The central figure in the fight was of course Artur. His light magic was more effective at hitting the monsters' weak spots than swords and lances. He took no time to rest, aiming light magic spells at the oncoming monsters one after the other.

However, because his defenses were weak, Eirika and the others had to wield their swords and support him as his guard. Though they did not have any time to exchange words, they soon picked up on how to synchronize with each other’s movements. 

They defeated the monsters trying to block their path one after the other, and were able to continue south.

The bridge suspended over the river was a very small one. It looked like it might break if everyone used it to cross, so the axe unit cut down a tree to use as an impromptu bridge, and everyone decided that those who could move freely would use it.

Eirika led the group across the tree bridge and looked for the village that Vanessa had flown towards.

"Over there!"

Everyone followed Artur's directions until they were finally able to see the entrance to the village.

Vanessa’s pegasus was in a grassy patch, resting her wings. Nearby was Vanessa, talking to a girl they did not know.

'Is that the friend Artur mentioned?' Eirika approached them.

Vanessa's face showed a rare expression of bewilderment.

The woman noticed Eirika’s presence, and went on guard in an instant. 

Eirika quickly forced a smile, wondering if the woman had mistaken her for a monster.

The woman then said in a flat, calm voice, "Excuse me, but are you alive?”

"...Huh?"

"I question that because revenants have invaded this area. They even entered the village a little while ago."

"She was burning them all black just now.” Vanessa said with a disturbed look on her face.

Eirika was so amazed that she could not respond, so the woman continued speaking.

“Of course, I was able to avoid being put into any danger. Why? Because as a prodigy, the differences between living creatures and the rotting corpses of the reanimated were obvious with just one glance.”

The girl had a very odd way of speaking. Eirika now understood why Vanessa had looked so troubled.

Eirika asked in confusion, “Um… Are you… Artur’s friend…?”

“Yes, and my name is Lute. I am an unparalleled mage with superior talent, however, you have no reason to be nervous. I am not only intelligent, but also have a great personality.”

“U-Uh… um…”

"Now that two other living beings have come to me, I cannot stand idly by any longer. I shall leave this village and fight with you. Such minor monsters are as helpless as babies before my magic. Ah, I apologize, that was offensive to babies."

"...Um…"

"Please stay calm. I am a prodigy. Now let's go." Lute walked away at a brisk pace.

Eirika and Vanessa stared at each other.

"Is she really… the friend Artur mentioned?" Eirika asked.

"I think so…"

Regardless, they tried to return to the battlefield, just for a crazed scream to assail their ears.

It was Lute.

"What!? The battle's almost over already!? I didn't get a chance to shine!" She said irritatedly with her hands on her hips.

Artur rushed straight up to her. "Are you okay, Lute!?"

"Oh, hello, Artur. You should know that just by looking at me. And you are okay as well, yes?"

"I am. This group saved me."

Since the battle was over, everyone had gathered together.

They all formed a circle around Lute and Artur. 

Eirika said, "No, you're the one who saved us! Thanks to you, Artur, we were able to defeat all of the monsters. Still, I thought creatures like monsters only existed in legends…"

"Remnants, Mogals, Bonewalkers, Mauthdoogs, Gargoyles, and Baels... “ Lute rattled off the different types of monsters. Her voice actually sounded a bit excited. "The monsters that were told of in ancient texts are all being resurrected, one after the other. The world is in danger. Though I may be a prodigy, I do have a limit when I am on my own. I'd like to travel together with you, and vanquish the monsters that are reappearing across the continent. What do you think about that?"

"Take me with you as well, if you please." Artur cut in. "My order was not only to defeat the monsters roaming these woods, but across the continent. Please allow Lute and I to go with you."

"Yes, of course! I think it will be reassuring if you are with us."

They still didn't know anything about Lute, but they'd already seen Artur's true power with their own eyes. Increasing their number of allies who could wield offensive magic was a very welcome idea indeed, considering the future ahead of them.

Her army had grown once again. Eirika thought of what Seth had said about her ability to draw people to her, and it made her happy.

She still didn't know if she really had such a power, but for the journey ahead of them, it

 certainly was reassuring to gain more allies they could trust.

"Lady Eirika…" Seth called out to her in a grave voice. He seemed to want to talk to her about something. 

She broke away from the circle to stand privately with him.

"Since we arrived here, I have considered retreating back to Frelia." Seth's words came as a total shock to her.

They'd finally made it to the end of the long mountain path and through the old forest. Serafew was just ahead of them. Was turning back even an option at this point?"

Seth saw her expression and continued talking, though it clearly pained him to do so. "I know how you feel. But now, in addition to Grado soldiers, even monsters have started roaming the lands. Such a situation is too harsh for us."

Seth was not the kind of person to be scared by the sight of monsters. There was no doubt in Eirika’s mind that he’d thought a lot about this proposal.

And Eirika herself felt unsure, too. They’d managed to defeat the monsters in the forest, but they knew next to nothing about how powerful the monsters that would appear before them next time might be. They might end up in a situation where they were no match at their current strength.

The one factor that kept her heart from being fully swayed was, of course, her brother. The more difficult their battles became, the more she worried for her brother’s well-being.

If the monsters had made it to Renvall… then Ephraim would be forced to fight not only the Grado Army. In that case, no matter how strong he may be, they couldn’t be optimistic.

“...Please allow us to keep pressing onwards.” Eirika hardened her resolve and looked up at Seth. “I understand your judgement very well. But I am really worried about Brother. It may be selfish of me to put everyone in harm’s way… And the thought that I might be doing so pains me, but I…” Eirika couldn’t finish her sentence. She looked down at her feet.

Seth was silent for a moment, then said, “I understand. We will do as you say.”

“Seth...”

“I will protect you, Lady Eirika.” His words were powerful. 

Eirika was surprised. The moment the thought crossed her mind that she might be blushing, she became even more nervous. Her breathing sped up, and she looked away from him.

“Prepare yourself!”

A sudden loud voice called out that made Eirika jump.

A person flew out from among the trees. She was a young woman who looked to be about the same age as Eirika, and held a long staff in her hands.

"Evil beasts, I will not allow you to do as you please! I, L'arachel, will send you back to your world of darkness!" She waved her staff around, but stopped when all eyes fell on her. "...Huh? What happened to the monsters? Weren’t all of you being attacked by monsters? I noticed you were in trouble from atop the cliff and rushed over here, but…”

“Um, we already defeated all of them…” Eirika answered.

The girl responded by raising her staff into the air once more and yelling, “What good fortune! You were surely blessed by the gods! But it’s a shame that they didn’t last a little bit longer. I wanted to show you all a splendid performance! I knew it was a bad idea to take a detour. We should have come straight here.”

“If we’d come straight here, then we would have gone straight off the cliff!” A new voice said. When Eirika looked for the source, she noticed a man with a large, flashy cloth wrapped around his forehead, who was coming up from behind the mysterious girl.

And further behind him was a giant man with a stiff beard. “Gah ha ha, it’s too bad, innit, Lady L’Arachel?!” The giant said with a laugh that shook the air.

Eirika took a step back and asked, “Um… Who are you?”

“Me? Well, since you asked, I am of the great Theocracy of Rausten! My name is…”

“Hush, you cannot tell them, Lady L’Arachel!” The bearded giant spread out both his arms and stepped in front of her. He gestured strangely and dramatically while arguing, “You are a very special person! You cannot give away your identity in a place like this!”

“Oh, that’s right! How careless of me! Thank you for reminding me, Dozla!”

“‘Tis nothing, My Lady!”

“In times such as these, it is much sweeter to leave quickly without giving one’s name. Fare thee well, strangers! If fate wishes it, then let us meet again!”

“Let’s go, Rennac!”

The woman and the giant disappeared between the trees, their footsteps somehow both soft and loud at the same time. The young man they’d called Rennac shrugged his shoulders if to say “Good grief,” and chased after them.

There was a long pause during which no one could say anything, questioning “What just happened…?” to themselves in unison. 

The one to open her mouth and break the silence was Lute. “What weird people. My powers of observation saw right through them. They are unquestionably very weird people.”

“So are you!” Colm whispered. When their eyes met, he looked away and corrected himself. “It’s not just the monsters! Even the people in this forest are weird. There must be a poisonous gas leaking from somewhere, don’t you guys think? Everything is weird here! I can’t wait to get out! Let’s go!”

Regardless of whether or not there was poison or anything else of the sort in the forest, it would indeed be best not to stay for very long.

Eirika’s army continued further south, leaving the Za’ha Forest behind them.

[bordeauxatdusk]

Mystique (A Detroit: Become Human Fanfic) Part 1

 Read the full fic (so far) on Ao3 here!

DISCLAIMER this fic is about gay android detectives in 2038. Please know that I am a BLM supporter and that I do not write in this in support of our current shitty criminal justice system. 

Forget-me-nots.

The dead woman’s eyes were the same color as the flowers in her hair.

She was poised, artfully, in an elegant position that looked almost like a sculpture. Rigor mortis held her in place. The crown of forget-me-nots was integrated with an elaborate veil of white lace that fell gracefully down her back.

The bloodstained silk wedding gown she was wrapped in extended outward, rippling over the room, which was staged like a movie set; a host of antique items and classic still-life objects had been structured to frame her. Elaborate globes mingled with vases of flowers mingled with stacks of old yellowing books, covers frayed. Warm light streamed in lazily from large arcing windows, illuminating the oakwood floors of the room.

The light glinted off the pearl dagger embedded in the woman’s chest. In front of her, a gold-leafed, leather-bound edition of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet had been left open to the infamous scene:

“O, happy dagger, this is thy sheath.”

A human would undoubtedly call the scene beautiful.

To Nines, however, it was simply another murder.

He was capable of appreciating beauty, although many would be surprised to hear it. (Some people were surprised to hear that androids were capable of any abstract thought at all.)

Nines understand the concept of aesthetic value perfectly well. What he was not capable of understanding was how humans, in their love of aesthetic value, sometimes seemed to discard logic and reason.

The concept of a beautiful murder was immaterial to him. It was still murder. Whether it was committed in a wide-open oak room or in a rotting gutter made no difference.

Nines would hunt down and eliminate the murderer either way.

He was glad that Gavin felt the same, although Nines was concerned that he seemed disproportionately unnerved by something. What exactly it was, Nines couldn’t tell.

He knew that Gavin was upset partially from the rising levels of adrenaline in his scans, partially from the fact that Gavin’s pupils were dilated and he was beginning to fidget in the way he typically expressed distress (tapping his fingers together and pacing, mostly) and partially from the fact that he was increasing his profanity from its normal rate of about every one in fifteen words to every one in ten.

Nines had spent a lot of time analyzing Gavin Reed. Perhaps an irrational amount.

It hadn’t helped much.

Nines guessed that the cause of his partner’s distress must be some deeply-held psychological trauma. Humans often experienced it, and Gavin personally had suffered a difficult childhood. Whatever the reason for his distress, it must be very serious.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘ I don’t know ’, Tina?! ” his partner was currently yelling into his phone. “It’s a simple goddamn question! Do they have jalapeno poppers or not?!”

Fascinating.

Nines was well equipped to read Gavin, but very poorly equipped to understand him. The difference, he felt, was vast. He was... displeased by it. Androids were predictable, generally. Deviants much less so than non-deviants, of course, but they were still more logical than humans. At first Nines had been convinced that Gavin was simply uncomfortable expressing his emotions, but the android had begun to discover that Gavin himself was often unaware of them.

Perhaps there was some unpleasant memory jalapeno poppers evoked for his partner. He would have to ask later. Nines would have preferred to have Gavin leave the room and take a few minutes to calm down, but he had learned recently that it wasn’t an option. Apparently, Nines doing what he was designed to do and examining the physical evidence without Gavin’s interference meant he was “being a fucking know-it-all” and a “stuck-up asshole.”

“Look,” Gavin had said a few weeks ago, waving a hand dismissively to try and distract from the fact that he was clearly upset. “ It’s no big deal. Just don’t keep fucking asking me to leave in the middle of crime scenes, okay?”

Nines had been unable to see the point of this request. “ Gavin, you were clearly disgusted by the scope of the damage done to the victim.”

“Well, yeah,” Gavin had muttered sulkily, “but you don’t need to be all weird about it. Look, Nines, I want to do my job. Let me do it. Even if I’m not really helping, just let me feel like I am, okay?”

Nines had been even more confused. “ If you aren’t going to help, why are you so determined to be there? Humans aren’t exactly well-equipped for forensic analysis to begin with. I don’t hold it against you.”

It had escalated into a full-blown fight that left Nines more confused than ever until Gavin was finally able to articulate that he didn’t want to feel useless.

The absurdity and simplicity of the answer had caught Nines off guard. Gavin Reed, useless? They had won a medal together just six months ago for solving an incredibly dangerous case, saving the lives of ten other officers in the process (and possibly the entire DPD). Their success had almost entirely been due to Gavin. Useless?

Nines strongly disagreed.

He had told Gavin so. Nines always said what he meant.

Gavin had huffed under his breath.

“ Alright, shit, I get it,” he’d said, trying and failing not to smile. “You’re a big fucking suck-up.”

Nines knew enough about humans to understand that the insulting response had roughly meant, in Gavin-language,“Thank you, Nines. I’m flattered.”

What confused him is why Gavin didn’t just say that instead.

Humans never said what they meant. It was inconvenient.

Gavin's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Hey, Robocop. You find anything?”

Nines blinked. Gavin was staring at him, phone in hand, waiting.

Nine shook his head. “This crime scene is so elaborately staged, I can’t move through it without risking disrupting the evidence. Every object in this room is potentially a key to solving the case. There’s a very low probability the killer managed to set this up without leaving some traces of his presence behind-- fingerprints, hair, DNA. It would be better to wait until forensics arrives, and allow them to do their job. “

Gavin wrinkled his nose, thinking. It was a habit of his.

(One that Nines found extremely distracting, but it wasn’t the time for that.)

“Is something bothering you, Detective?” Nines asked.

Gavin huffed. “Yeah, stop calling me ‘detective.’ You know my name.”

He paused for a moment, sighed, and then gestured to the scene in front of them.

“It’s this whole thing, Nines. I hate it when they do this shit. It’s so fucked up. Trying to turn something so horrible into something pretty, or romantic, or-- I don’t know. You’ll see. These cases are always hell to investigate. We can’t let a single drop of this leak to the media, or else this poor girl is going to be on the front page of every newspaper across the country. ‘The Girl In the Wedding Dress’, or some shit like that.”

Nines didn’t understand. “I’m not sure I’m following you. You don’t want her case to be publicized?”

Gavin shook his head. “Hell no. How do I explain this? Okay. This girl, she’s not fucking Juliet, right? What's her real name? You know it already with your facial recognition?”

“Ashley Briggs.”

“Okay. She’s not Juliet. She’s Ashley. Ashley was a whole person, with a life and family and friends, and then some fucking creepy asshole murdered her and dressed her up like Juliet. The media’s problem is, they like stories with publicity. They like stuff that has a nice ring to it. Ashley Briggs, not so much. ‘The Girl in the White Dress?’ ‘The Woman in White?’ some other bullshit like that? They eat that up.  A picture of a pretty girl in a wedding dress with a dagger in her chest? That’s the kind of stuff they eat for breakfast. They love it, Nines! It’s like the Black Dahlia. If any of this gets out,  nobody will give two fucks about Ashley Briggs, but they’ll all love her death."

Gavin stopped for a moment to take a breath, hands gesturing wildly, eyes narrowed in anger.

"Rumors will be everywhere. Poor Ashley’s family is gonna have to deal with photos of their little girl murdered and dressed up in a fucking wedding dress all over every tabloid in the grocery store for the next eight years. And not a single one of the people obsessed with ‘Juliet’ is gonna give a shit about Ashley. Everyone’s gonna see her how the killer saw her, how he wanted us to see her, how he set her up: as pretty tragic Juliet in a wedding dress. Nobody is gonna know or remember Ashley Briggs. Don’t you see how fucked up that is? They never give a shit about the victim, even though they pretend to. It’s always about the fucking killer and his ideology.”

Nines was stunned. He had never considered that aspect of a crime before. Looking at it from that perspective, it did seem disturbing.

“They’ll romanticize her murder," he finished for Gavin, who looked almost too angry to continue.

Gavin nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The most fucked up part is, that’s what he wants. Her killer staged her this way because he’s trying to put on a fucking show. This is a murder with a message, we just don’t know what it is. I hate that those bastards always seem to get the attention they want. People always remember the killer, but they never remember the victim. Hell, how many people do you think could name a single victim of Ted Bundy? Or Jeffery Dahmer? Or any of the other sick bastards that decide to take their sexual fantasies out on so many innocent people that everyone forgets about?”

Nines raised an eyebrow. “We don’t know that this murder is sexual in nature.”

Gavin huffed. “Nah, but there’s a pattern when it comes to motive and method. There’s tons of examples. Um. Execution-style gunshots to the back of the head are cold, professional. Victim’s turned away, there’s a distance between them and the killer. No eye contact. Hired killers, a lot of the time.”

Gavin demonstrated with a finger gun, eyes distant, like he was remembering cases he’d seen before.

“Stranglings are personal, and a lot of the time they’re sexual. Killer’s up close, right in their face. Looking them in the eye, watching them slowly die, hands-on contact. It’s ‘intimate’ for those fucked-up pieces of shit. They’re normally sexual sadists. Hate those ones.”

Gavin’s brow wrinkled in disgust as he demonstrated.

“Stabbings are personal too, but in a different way. Bloody, aggressive, painful. Personal vendetta, lots of times. Someone close to the victim with a grudge. Betrayal maybe, ‘cause there’s anger behind it. Besides, she’s staged as fucking Juliet. Who do you think her Romeo’s supposed to be? The mailman?”

Nines hummed in response. He didn’t doubt Gavin’s theory, but any investigation should work from the external to the internal. The solid evidence should be interpreted to form theories, not theories interpreted to fit the evidence. The second an investigator began to let their personal opinions dictate the situation, they became biased.

“I still believe we should wait for the evidence to be analyzed before assuming anything.”

Gavin crossed his arms. His body language throughout this speech had been aggressive. Nines’ scans told him that Gavin was intensely angry.

“I’m not fucking assuming, I’m theorizing. If the evidence says something different then I’ll change my tune. I’m just saying, maybe the fact that she’s being staged all pretty in a fancy room in a wedding dress mirroring the suicide from goddamn ‘ Romeo and Juliet’ might have some tiny romantic undertones, Nines.”

“So perhaps we should interview her neighbors first.”

“Hell yes, we should,” Gavin said. “Starting with whoever found the body.”

He started to turn away to head out the door.

Nines stopped him. “Gavin, wait.”

He twisted back around in surprise. “What?”

Nines pressed his hands together, standing stiffly. “Are you angry with me?”

Gavin stopped in his tracks and paused for a moment in an emotion Nines was unable to read. There was a second of tension, and then Nines’ partner seemed to crumple inward as he sighed heavily, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

“No,” he said to the floor by his feet. “Sorry. It’s this case. Stuff like this- it’s fucking creepy. I get all tense. Of course I’m not mad at you, dumbass. I’m just- I’m not good at expressing shit, y’know. ”

Nines walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?”

Gavin’s entire demeanor changed, going from aggressive to something much more vulnerable instantly. It was a switch that, even though they’d been together for six months now, Nines had rarely seen.

“No,” Gavin said softly. “I just want to catch the bastard. Otherwise, cases like this, they always stick with me. I’ll- I’ll see her everywhere. Ashley, I mean. In mirrors, reflections, dreams. Asking me why I couldn’t do it. People always act like murder investigations are some cop-show badass bullshit, but they aren’t. The pressure’s gonna be hell. We’re gonna have to go through her whole life and dig up a lot of secrets. Everyone has graves that are better left buried. Take my word for it, it’s gonna suck. And even if we find the fucking bastard, he still might get off. Normally, I can distance myself from it, I guess, but when it’s something this creepy- I just- I don’t know if I can do it. There's something about this case. I have such a bad fucking feeling about this whole thing. It’s driving me crazy. ”

Nines reached out and wrapped his arms around Gavin, pulling him close. It was meant as a comforting gesture, and he noticed with satisfaction that his partner’s distress seemed to decrease.

Nines was beginning to understand how to react to Gavin’s moods, even if he didn’t always understand the reason why they were happening. They had both worked dozens of homicide cases. Nines didn’t understand how this case was any different, but it didn’t matter. He was programmed to adapt to human unpredictability.

He never knew what to make of Gavin’s hunches, though. They were objectively irrational, and they were also always right. It drove him insane. It defied reason.

Then again, nothing about Gavin was reasonable.

“We’re professionals,” Nines began, “and-”

“And you’re hugging me in the middle of a fucking murder scene,” Gavin interrupted, voice muffled from pressing his face into Nines’ shoulder, “like a true professional.”

“You needed a hug. Let me finish. We’re professionals, and there’s a lot of potential just in this room for the killer to have made a mistake. The chances of him staging all this with zero forensic evidence left behind are very low-”

“Mhmmm,” Gavin said, leaning into the hug.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Nope,” Gavin muttered.

Nines sighed.

He gently pulled Gavin away from him, brushing off his partner’s coat, which was eternally covered in cat hair.

“We need to go interview the neighbors. Listen. We work very well together. We’ve faced near-impossible odds before. Compared to our last big case, this will most likely be easy.”

“Nothing’s ever easy,” Gavin groaned. “Especially not in fucking homicide.”

“Well then, we’ll support each other, just like last time.”

Gavin smiled wryly. “Are you going to break a rib and give me a concussion again?”

“That highly depends,” Nines said, “on whether or not you plan to shoot me a second time.”

“You told me to!”

“I was paralyzed and all my communications were disabled. I couldn’t tell you to do anything."

“Your light flashed!”

“My LED,” Nines said, raising an eyebrow, “never stops flashing, unless I’m decommissioned.”

Gavin shoved him-- an adorably futile effort, considering he didn’t move even a fraction of an inch.

“Come on, smartass,” Gavin said. “We have some friendly neighbors to interrogate.”