#is it up to the STANDARDS. am i CONTRIBUTING or just making noise

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

i love giving koschei a stupid made up timeywimey mental illness it’s selfindulgent and dumb and doesnt necessarily make for good fics but look at my blorbo having symtomps i love her so much

[agendercryptidlev]

haha wait sory follow up to the last two asks . i finally remember what the term for it is. Like, double standards. My issue with how some ppl interpret The Laios and Toshiro argument is how they kind of hold them to a diff standard of like tha fault is mostly with Toshiro for not speaking up instead of Laios because ppl see him as more oblivious in general even tho yea i mean that's fair i can also be like that sometimes!!! but its unfair that ppl say Toshiro isn't some flavour of neurodivergent too and is just like. an allistic asshole. lmao

either way i think theyre both interestingly flawed. and i enjoyed their fight and what it like meant for both of them (a big growth moment because laios like has a more understanding perspective of others' now and how like some ppl are going to be annoyed with him / how he should be more careful going forward with boundaries. and he also like . can see other ppls perspectives more in particular how toshiros sleep deprivation and lack of eating contributed to him lashing out suddenly at Laios.

and then how for Toshiro he kinda like? becomes more assertive and like doesnt just repress whatever it is he wants to say. Like the fight is super well written and interesting for both of their characters' growth so i want more ppl to kind of like /get/ that its less of a NT vs ND typa situation and more of a yeah these guys are both autistic, goin at it, and learning from their past mistakes. Getting worse before they get better at communication, that kind of stuff :]

I think this is all very valid and true and honestly this sorta fandom mini-ecosystem is really reflective of how people view neurodivergence as a whole, like there's some sorta monolith and one size fits all solution.

IDK how many people have this experience but at my elementary school they had a special daily class for the kids with "social difficulties" which basically meant they threw all the neurodiverse kids in a room and treated their different symptoms as exactly the same and were surprised when most of us HATED each other by the end. I have little to no volume control and was put next to a kid with severe noise sensitivity and yet they thought we'd get along because we both deviated from the norm. People expect there to be one true neurodivergent experience and it just doesn't work like that.

I definitely get what you mean about relating to both Laios and Toshiro and being annoyed at the mentality that you need to pick a side too, even if there is a million percent more Laios in me than Toshiro. A lot of people don't realize that people's symptoms don't follow an archetype and can have symptoms that seem to conflict with each other (I for example am a selective mute who also talks impulsively). People keep making false dichotomies with this stuff which is also where the temptation to make it into an autistic vs allistic right vs wrong thing comes in and it's a whole mess.

At the end of the day I just wish people were comfortable viewing this moment of conflict between Laios and Toshiro as a moment both of them needed to have to learn and grow, that's why they were both all bruised up at the end, neither came out as someone perfect but it's what they need to move past their differences and stuff.

That's also why I think it's so cool that there's a whole community online full of other neurodivergent folks who can all throw their own perspectives in and all that! I really enjoy hearing your perspective on Toshiro's character and I'm glad you help me think about him in ways I wouldn't have been able to on my own! :3

[chaosincurate]

My Month in Music - November 2023

Japanese Breakfast - Jubilee (relisten)

Slint - Spiderland

IAN SWEET - Sucker (new)

Jessie Ware - That! Feels Good!

Spiritual Cramp - Spiritual Cramp (new)

Fugazi - 13 Songs

Rage Against the Machine - Rage Against the Machine

Sampha - Lahai (relisten)

Nina Simone - Pastel Blues (relisten)

Hüsker Dü - Zen Arcade

Wire - Pink Flag

Hüsker Dü - Warehouse: Songs and Stories

underscores - fishmonger

Olivia Rodrigo - SOUR (relisten)

yeule - softscars (relisten)

Pulp - Different Class (relisten)

Carly Rae Jepsen - The Loveliest Time (new) (relisten)

Paramore - This Is Why (relisten)

The Strokes - Room On Fire (relisten)

Fugazi - Repeater & 3 Songs

The Strokes - The New Abnormal (relisten)

Samara Joy - Linger Awhile

Shame - Food For Worms (relisten)

Daft Punk - Random Access Memories

Alvvays - Alvvays (relisten)

Alvvays - Antisocialites (relisten)

Alvvays - Blue Rev (relisten)

Jane Remover - Census Designated (new)

Playlist link

Write-ups below

Fugazi - 13 Songs

Fugazi is an exceptional punk band in all the ways you'd expect: power in every single instrument, simplicity that doesn't get boring, and a heavy focus on societal ills. But there's more than just that. I feel like the thing that makes them not just exceptional, but unique, is that the lyrics strike an incredible balance between an interesting level of obfuscation and that crucial bluntness that ensures that the message doesn't actually get lost.

Naturally, the fact that this is a combination of EPs and not an album all its own makes the sequencing a little awkward, but as a collection of songs, this is some of the best punk I've ever heard.

Rage Against the Machine - Rage Against the Machine

Oh boy am I late to this one!

I was only familiar with Killing In the Name (and only in fairly passive contexts) before listening to this album so I wasn't really sure what to expect, and whether it'd be a case of the album having one standout track and the rest just being filler. Well, Killing In the Name definitely stands out, but the rest of the album definitely isn't filler.

While I complimented Fugazi's balance of thought-provoking poetry and pure politics on 13 Songs, I have to say RATM makes pure bluntness come across too sincere to dismiss om the grounds of simplicity. Every single line is delivered with such potent anger, and it really got me whipped up in the emotion of it, at least on a second listen.

Hüsker Dü - Zen Arcade

Zero expectation listens to punk-adjacent albums is a theme on this post, and a theme that Zen Arcade is contributing to. All I knew was that Hüsker Dü's reputation seemed good. My lack of expectation meant that 1. I only found out that apparently it's a story album after listening to it, and 2. I was absolutely blindsided by the album's more experimental flourishes.

One of my favourite flourishes came with Pink Turns to Blue, which takes punk and filters it through a noise-pop/shoegaze sort of sound to great effect. That is probably the most noteworthy example, but compared to some more repetitive punk albums I've heard, an album feeling so ceaselessly experimental it seemed disjointed by punk standards was honestly more to the albums benefit than it's detriment.

underscores - fishmonger

I'm very new to the hyperpop sphere, but I don't think I could ask for a better gateway to it than underscores. The blend of that indie rock sound with the eternally online stylings of hyperpop is a personal cheat code for pleasure for me, particularly on their new album Wallsocket, which you will listen to if you know what's good for you. After listening to her other projects, though, I can very happily say that they are scratching the same itch (if not quite as well).

I've written before about how the unique concepts of the tracks off the new album were a highlight, and, again, that extends to a lesser degree to her older work, which has been fantastic, and where the interesting concepts are comparatively limited, the execution makes up for it.

Given a few more releases of this sort of quality, underscores could well become one of my favourite music acts I just love this style so much.

Fugazi - Repeater & 3 Songs

Basically everything that I said about 13 Songs applies here, but there are a few differences that make this worthwhile to talk about on it's own. One of those differences is that this essentially plays like a regular album with three bonus tracks, which means that my one noted criticism of 13 Songs doesn't apply here. The other key difference that comes to mind is that it feels to me as if there is more aggression in this album. It's grittier and angrier, and while it does throw off the balance that I liked so much on the other album, I also appreciate that it makes it a unique listening experience while also not changing enough to make it clearly worse.

The Strokes - The New Abnormal

The Strokes were so back with this one. They happen to have left again shortly after, not having released anything in over three years, but they were so back for a second there.

This album brought back everything that made The Strokes great in those first few albums and occasional singles thereafter, and kept kept it all stripped back to it's bare essentials so they could really be heard. Their ability to have a musical composition in which everything (bass, guitar, drums, other guitar, synth...) both shines on it's own and comes together in this glorious tapestry is only arguably matched by Radiohead, and specifically during their In Rainbows era. And that talent is here on full force on The New Abnormal.

Also present is a tasteful experimentation with synths and electronics, which don't just justify themselves, but improve the songs they are on. They are used to great effect on At the Door, for example, where the sawed synths create a potent feeling of fear and harshness that makes it unlike any song The Strokes have ever made.

Between the outstanding mixing, versatility of sound, and the back-to-their-best Strokes songcrafting, this is the best Strokes album hands down for my money, but you guys aren't ready for that discussion yet, so I'll just leave it at "album good" until you are.

Samara Joy - Linger Awhile

I can't pretend that I actually have much to say about this, because I'm still pretty new to jazz, but Samara Joy is a very charismatic vocalist and the album is a great one for a chill vibe so I thought it deserved to be highlighted more than just putting it in the playlist. If you're looking for a modern in for jazz, I found this one very enjoyable.

Daft Punk - Random Access Memories

The second album of the post where I should have gotten to it way earlier. Pure dance music just never really appealed to me, nor do songs without vocals, generally, and I was under the impression that Daft Punk were entirely that. Clearly I was wrong, although I'm still unsure as to what degree.

In any case, I loved this album. Instant Crush is a massive highlight just on the basis of it's super satisfying pop sound and just-novel-enough concept. Giorgio By Moroder is also a great love letter to artistry, if a strage one to consider a highlight on account of the spoken word vocals. And of course it goes without saying that the Nile Rodgers and Pharrell Williams backed Lose Yourself to Dance and Get Lucky are amazing, funky, and infectious bops that keep you engaged for every second of their runtime.

It's a classic album for a reason, and I apologize to music for not listening to it earlier.

[waters-and-the-wilde]

okay so one of the fun and neat things about going on T and shifting into boy mode is. i'm hot now??

it's not that i've changed that much or was dealing with negative self-image stuff, like i was already the prettiest boy you've ever seen before i got on T. back in girl(?) mode i dodged the worst of the usual body image issues due to a confluence of factors, such as

a.) enough early messaging to the effect of 'hey trying to make girls be attractive all the time is kinda fucked up' and me going 'yeah! that is fucked up! fuck being pretty'

b.) just. extraordinary amounts of asexuality. and with that came the primary incentive to go 'oh fuck i don't want to be attractive. dear god get that away from me. engage the Somebody Else's Problem Fields to maximum capacity!!'

c.) 'but also hey i've got great hair and look dashing in a waistcoat, i just do it for me you know? i'm like if a vain creature spent a lot of time scrabbling about in a tree hollow'

like i felt like i looked fine as a girl(?) and i didn't want to deal with the social baggage of being pretty (TM) or hot (TM) and clearly all that took so much effort anyway so it was super easy to just. not. although I liked wearing fancy costumes so in a lot of ways it's easier to look back on like. girl formalwear moments and be like 'oh yeah. that's drag. i was in drag.' without getting hit with the dysphoria stick. and the moments i felt really good about myself, like, 'flirt with myself in the mirror' moments were. boy drag. but i wasn't going to call myself hot. (also probably an autism thing, bc The Neurotypicals and the CisHetAlloNormies love to take the things you say literally and contort them to fit their assumptions so i couldn't risk them conflating 'hot' with 'sexually available'.) i was 'allowed' to be hot when i was dressed as jack harkness but under all other circumstances i didn't want that and wasn't willing to risk being thought of in those terms. never mind nipping it in the bud i was gonna salt the earth first.

which, maybe was a little overkill, i've got a bit of a tendency there but tbh i'm incredibly grateful for how much that kept the background society noise from getting the worst of its hooks into me. like the rampant asexuality and baby's first genderqueer shenanigans did me so many favors for maintaining a neutral-to-positive outlook on my relationship with my body. especially when it came to keeping prospective attention at bay so any time someone actually tried to ask me out it was just like. reaction gif of those girls with the red cups at the party. how did you get past security.

didn't hurt that i didn't want to hang in the kind of environments that made a big deal about appearances slash recognized it's rude to be a dick about peoples' appearances, but also there was probably a certain amount of baseline white/able-bodied/skinny privilege that i wasn't really aware of at the time, and lately i've been suspecting that contributes to other people trying to reinforce their idea of my place in 'the girl club'. something something same coin as those standards that also exclude and deny cis women for not measuring up.

recent years it's been weird because it sort of hasn't mattered how obvious i think the transmasc cues are, how much i look in the mirror and go '!!! hell yeah look at that handsome little guy!' because it just wouldn't translate. there was just a lot of 'yes fine i know i know i kNoW what people see when they look at me. it is still weird to me but i have to maKe Allowances for our soCiAL coNText riGht?? just because i got sick of being low-effort nonbinary and decided I wanted a turn at the blue hair and pronouns thing doesn't mean that other people aren't stuck in their assumptions. yes i know who i am but i have to wear a little sign and point it out to people and most of the time they don't notice or remember and if i'm lucky they'll wring their hands and get all conCerNed about having oFfEnded me instead of telling me they don't think they should have to make the effort of trying.' and don't get me wrong i love meeting cishetnormies who are cool and onboard and supportive or just baseline chill about it, but there are a lot of them where there's this definite undercurrent of knowing they're just humoring you and it itches like a shirt with the bad textures.

anyway it's not as if i didn't know i built in a bunch of defensiveness around knowing I was being perceived female and trying to control for the implications of that. (it's been a perennial topic of household conversation bc sibling and sibling-in-crime are a bit more settled into their own flavors of genderqueer especially in terms of dealing with other peoples' perceptions and i've still been grappling with a lot of 'i need to look GAY i need to look QUEER i need to look LIKE A BOY I need to look COMPLETELY UNAVAILABLE. do NOT perceive me. ENGAGE 'SOMEBODY ELSE'S PROBLEM FIELD' to MAXIMUM CAPACITY. i am JUST SOME GUY. FUCK i dress like a 12-YEAR-OLD and people think i'm in HIGH SCHOOL but they STILL DON'T THINK I'M A BOY' 'buddy hey do you think maybe you're overthinking the way people perceive you and trying to accommodate for that instead of being yourself' 'I KNOW BUT HEY'

i think starting to working in a much more public retail job kind of threw it into sharp relief because before I wasn't doing that on purpose, i just got so used my Whole Deal just sort of automatically flying under the radar. and suddenly every day i'm having to deal with other peoples' assumptions. and every day i'm still kicking and yowling and biting because all i'm getting is other people trying to shove me into a box. they see a girl-shaped person and it doesn't matter about the collared button-down shirt and what's usually a boy's name on the apron, lol what's a pronoun button, she's young and skinny and cute and white and that's what the quirky young ladies do these days because androgyny is trendy right??

(do not get me started on how women are not allowed to age and how trans guys get infantilized and how i keep getting clocked as much younger than i am, what does a guy have to do to get treated like a goddamn grown-up ah fuck i gotta show up with healthy boundaries and self-respect probably because i'm not about to stop dressing like a twelve year old because i am fighting for my life to retain my youthful whimsy on this godforsaken bitch of an earth)

and then. not much changes but I change. six weeks on T and i'm like ugh nothing's happening it's fine it's fine it's gonna be gradual it's gonna take its own time. and then two weeks later, holy shit. the goddamn second i unlocked the slightest bit of facial hair and boom. 'not my fault you think i'm a girl. skill issue. oh shit i look GOOD'

they (the charming and helpful transmascs who make youtube videos) said T won't just up and fix your confidence issues, and yeah okay they're right because something something gotta find that in yourself or whatever, but also. they were right when they said it doesn't not fix your confidence issues.

now. sometimes it's even more fucking jarring when it's easier for me to forget that it still doesn't always translate. last week some middle-aged guy tried to ask me out while i was at work (it was a short and not ill-mannered interaction but pretty obviously 'area man has interacted with a Young Lady for five minutes and decided to go for it' way) and it was like. The FUCK? now?? like. sir. babygirl. you are not only barking up the wrong tree you are not even in a forest right now. this is in fact. a lumber department. 'you look lovely' my ass i am the grubbiest little dweeb you have ever seen and these aprons flatter nobody, not even me. who the fuck do you think you're trying to kid. also i'm a boy. no sparing your feelings no laughing it off no 'easy mistake to make' i hope you feel super awkward about this. not my fault you tried to pick up a grown-ass man with a mustache. i don't care if you were polite about it you're old enough to be my dad and this is my workplace. i am once again asking how the fuck did you get past security.

(work-life gender is totally a thing too. at work i am 'actually a boy but thanks', i'm they/he and uh him actually when people use 'her', i am just some guy, fuck you i am a grown-ass man stop telling me how to do my job boomer. and then i get to go home and be a creature and a weird little man (nonbinary) and i'm suddenly more comfortable in a bunch of the girl(?) shirts i had stopped wearing and i'm looking forward to approaching more of a queer guy flavor of femininity on my own time)

it's weird too in that materially very little has changed, like it's been all of four months, i sound like i'm getting over a cold and my face can do a new party trick. it's all still mine, it's just that maybe it feels a little bit more mine now.

anyway the point of all this was that. i couldn't be hot because i couldn't act like i was hot because i couldn't envision a version of events where people didn't make this my problem. and suddenly I'm Just Hot Now. because I Am. like it's just a fact now it's an immutable law of the universe. all those posts about 'i'm transgenedner and sexy' and i was like 'love that for you, couldn't be me tho' and now i'm transgedener and sexy. am I going to do anything about it?? god no. i'm gonna make this everybody else's problem.

(be funny if i had a slut era in an asexual way but one thing at a time perhaps)

[votava-records]

Little Simz - I Love You, I Hate You

Lyrics :

I love you

I hate you

I love you

I hate you

I love you

So much I would give my life for this

 If the bullet was the beat I would probably die for this

 How many times did I cry for this?

I would hate myself if I didn’t at least try for this

 What’s at stake is bigger than me

 Blood tears how it stains can’t rid it with ease

 What we have in common is our pain we’re given the keys

 To unlock what it takes to fight for what we believe in

 Hard to confront the truth of what you see in the mirror

Some people you inspire and others you trigger

Fighting in blind faith led by the internal voice

You might not wanna do it but you don’t have a choice

Will the pressure take me to new heights or be my demise

Will my intentions coincide with what I advise

The people looking up to me doing everything right

But who am I to tell anyone how to live their life?

Your pain threshold will determine if you survive I’m amazed by it

Lying to myself pretending I was never phased by it

Maybe cos you’re in my DNA that’s why

I love you I hate you I love you

Sometimes I hate you

Always I love you

But right now I hate you

I love you

I hate you 

You made a promise to God to be there for your kids

You made a promise to give them a life you didn’t live

My ego won’t fully allow me to say that I miss you

A woman who hasn’t confronted all her daddy issues The day would come when you gotta find all the answers to your sins

Pressures of providing feeling unhappy within

Or what kind of external family shit up on your plate

But I understand wanting and needing an escape

Too much unsaid now the silence giving me headaches

Only through speech can we let go of all this dead weight

Even though I’m angry don’t wanna be disrespectful

Tryna figure out how to approach this in the best way

Hard to not carry these feelings even on my best days

Never thought my parent would give me my first heartbreak

Anxiety giving me irregular heart rate

Used to avoid getting into how I really feel about this now I see how fickle life can be and so it can’t wait

Shoulda been the person there to hold me on my dark days

It’s easier to stargaze

And wish than be faced with this reality

Is you a sperm donor or a dad to me and still

I love you I hate you I love you I hate you Always I love you But right now I hate you Always I love you I hate you

On this mission you live and you learn

The world don’t show you no mercy from birth

How do you humanise your hero?

Round here you're only respected if earned

Half hearted sorry’s cant let your guard down

To get to nirvana where do you start out?

Angry cos they don’t meet your unrealistic standards

Then you realise that they're human and you calm down

Sometimes I’m unbalanced and I think rah why am I losing my steps?

Lately I’m paranoid I feel my life is a mess I’m just using my voice hope it will have an effect

He was just once a boy I often seem to forget

Looking at Polaroid’s of pictures secretly kept You know what was destroyed but you don’t know what was left

Tryna phase out the noise of all you hear in your head

Everything is a choice and anything can be said Is you missing the point are you just hearing me vent?

Or is you in understanding knowing my words will connect?

I keep you in my prayers cos life is short as we know

Every mistake you make should contribute to your growth

What you choose to avoid will probably come in your dreams I’m not forgiving for you man I’m forgiving for me

And sometimes I love you

I hate you Sometimes

I love you Sometimes

I hate you Always I love you

I hate you I love you I hate you

[randomrosewrites]

I would like to request Xiao getting sick and the reader has to take care of him! uwu thank you in advance <33

a/n: You can! Sick fics are my guilty pleasure, I hope I did Xiao justice <3

Under the weather

Pairing: Xiao x GN reader Summary: Xiao falls sick, and tries very hard to not let a certain someone help him out. Words: 1.5K Tags: Sickfic, fluff, comfort, Xiao acting tough when he's really a huge softie <3

Xiao is a person who rarely gets sick. Him being an adeptus contributes to that greatly.

…key word being rarely.

There are times, where despite eons of fighting and surviving the worst wounds, his immune system fails him, and he falls sick. He detests it. It makes him feel weak. His body feels miserable and his senses are dulled for a couple of weeks afterwards. Worst of all, it brings out that sympathetic, woeful look from others, which he despises. The last thing Xiao wants is for mortals to take pity on him.

So, when he wakes up with a sore throat and a persistent cough that refuses to go away, he continues with his day as normal, refusing to let some minor bug affect his job. He eats a quick breakfast, grunts a good morning to Ver Goldet at the front, and heads to the balcony to get to work.

The rain that pours from the sky stops him dead in his tracks. Of all the days to rain, when he’s feeling bad enough as is. He glares at the sky, dark clouds showing no sign of stopping. The last thing he wants to do today is to spend the day fighting monsters in the torrent, but duty calls.

Sighing deeply, he tightens his grip on his jade polearm, grits his teeth, and steps out onto the marsh.

---

Eight hours later, when he returns, dripping water, shivering, and exhausted, he knows he’s overdone it.

He barely makes it past the threshold of the inn and into his room, collapsing onto his bed wet clothes and all. He feels awful and his cough is so bad that it steals all the breath from his lungs.

He knows he should get up, at least to strip himself of his clothes, but he just can’t find the strength to do so. It’s like his limbs are made of stone, weighed down and heavy.

Rain continues pattering against the roof, and below, Xiao can almost make out the sounds of guests talking. It’s comforting. Background noise that puts him at ease. He’s never been fond of complete silence, nor an excessive amount of noise. Xiao closes his eyes, curling himself up in a ball on his bed. Sleep pulls at his mind, making his ragged breathing steady.

He’s so out of it, he doesn’t notice another presence in his room until he feels a pressure on his head.

Terror shoots through his veins and Xiao leaps up, clumsily drawing his polearm into his hands. Too slow. He hisses to himself. He’s right. A hand wraps around his wrists, easily twisting the weapon out of harm's way. He’s considering kicking the intruder in the chest when a familiar voice grounds him to a halt.

“Woah! It’s just me, Xiao,” your eyes are wide with shock, maybe even a hint of fear.

He blinks up at you. There are no enemies. His weapon disappears in a flash of light. “What the hell. You shouldn’t sneak into other people’s rooms.”

“The door was open,” you defend, letting go of his wrists after a moment. “And the carpet was soaked all the way from outside. What happened? You sound awful.”

“I got wet.” He coughs, squeezing his eyes shut. “Agh – do you need anything? Or can I be alone?”

You frown, starting at him so intently that he averts his gaze. “You’re sick.”

“And what if I am? That’s not your concern-”

You’re already turning away before he’s finished his sentence. He wonders if you’re just going to go out the front door and leave, until you turn into the bathroom, your voice calling from inside, “I’ll run you a bath.”

What.

“What?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because you’re sick. Just stay right there, it’ll be ready in a second.”

“I don’t need you to run me a bath like I’m some…” his skin heats with anger. (Or maybe that’s just his fever.) “Child.”

“You’re not. I don’t think you are. I’m just helping you out,” you say simply.

Xiao releases a breath, clinging to his stubbornness. “I don’t need your help,” With his nose plugged, it doesn’t sound half as intimidating as he wants to be.

Your response is light and tender, almost understanding. It makes Xiao’s throat tighten. “I know, Xiao.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he sits on the edge of his bed, listening to your shuffling. The water runs and after a few minutes, you exit, sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

“It’s all set, go in whenever you feel ready.”

Xiao gets up, clearing his throat. “Alright.”

He probably should say something else, but he doesn’t know what else to say. So, he awkwardly shuffles into the bathroom, feeling his cheeks burn as he closes the door behind him. The bath is fancier than anything he’s ever taken. A few bubbles foam in the water, and if his nose weren’t plugged, he’d be able to smell the fresh scent of Fontaine bath salts.

He strips quickly and carefully lowers himself into the water, sighing as the knots in his muscles unravel. He lets himself soak for a bit longer than necessary, slowly scrubbing his skin, only getting out once the bath starts to lose its heat. The steam does wonders for his breathing. By the time he dries himself with a towel and changes into a fresh set of clothes, he can breathe through one nostril again.

When he exits, you’ve gotten the blankets changed and are sitting in a chair by the side of the bed. A magazine is open on your lap, one of the ones that came with the room that he’s never read. You close it when you see him.

“Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re sick and need someone to care for you,” you turn, digging around in your bag by your feet. “I also want to take your temperature.”

He folds his arms and does his best to seem imposing. “I’ve survived for eons without the need for anyone else, what makes you think I’ll let you take care of me now?”

“I’m not asking,” you sit up, and with all the patience (or stubbornness) Xiao’s ever seen, pat the bed. “Come here, Xiao.”

He hesitates a minute more before ultimately giving in, planting himself in front of you. A thermometer is placed in his mouth, which he begrudgingly accepts. The chills start to return, so he picks up one of the blankets carefully folded at the edge of the bed and wraps himself in it.

His nose isn’t working, so it comes to a shock when he sees the steaming bowl of miso soup on his bedside dresser, boiled bits of soft tofu floating in the broth.

“Is that…mine…?” It sounds silly the moment he says it out loud, and curses himself for it.

“Mhm. I had the staff bring it up when you were in the bathroom. It’s plain, so it won’t upset your stomach, but I want to get some medicine in you before you have any.”

A bath…food…medicine…he almost feels sick with how much care you’re treating him with.

“This is stupid…” he murmurs as you pour a vile of red liquid into a small medicine cup. He has half the mind to tell you mortal medicine won’t work but knowing your stubbornness, he wouldn’t doubt that you’d gone ahead and purchased special medicine from the pharmacy in Liyue Harbor.

“Stupid is going out into the rain and catching a cold,” you quip back. There’s no aggression to your words, he almost feels bad when he responds with a snarky comment.

“I was already sick before I went out.”

You stop to stare at him, narrowing your eyes in a way that makes Xiao’s insides turn, before sighing. “Stupid is going out into the rain when you were already sick. Give me the thermometer, please.”

His temperature is high, by both mortal and adeptal standards. You force him to swallow two tablespoons of medicine that tastes like ashes and he manages a few spoonfuls of the soup before his stomach protests. He wraps the blankets around him, frowning when you get up and tuck the sheets around his body.

“I didn’t need your help.”

You brush the bangs from his forehead. Xiao’s eyes flutter for a brief moment. He doesn’t push you away. “Whatever you say, Xiao.”

“Let me finish,” he snaps, before collecting himself. He really needs to stop doing that. “I didn’t need your help, but…I appreciate it.”

Your eyes widen a smidge before a small smile spreads across your face, making Xiao’s temperature rise even more.

“You’re welcome, Xiao. Sweet dreams.”

You sit by his bedside until he falls asleep, feeling the safest and more comfortable than he’s ever been in a while. Xiao doesn’t dream anymore, but if he did, he knows it would have been a peaceful one.

[serenescribbles]

Through the Bookshelf

For Timari January March Prompt: Misunderstanding

Hello I am here to say that dialogue was the driving force behind this fic. And that the title is supposed to be a play on the phrase "through the grapevine".

I originally hadn't planned for this to be in the series but my brain came up with it and decided to go with it. Please enjoy!

CW: Threats, Abuse of Power - (Only at the very end)

AO3 | Masterlist | Previous Part in Series

一

Have you ever wondered what people say in secret? Have you ever wanted to know? What they really think when no one is there? What they are hiding?

Doesn’t the thought of it overwhelm you and eat away at you on the inside? Don’t you want to get closer and hear what’s being said? The curiosity keeps building up until finally, you can’t resist it anymore.

Tim was no stranger to this temptation. He had fallen under its spell more times than he could count. This curiosity could be contributed to his compulsive need to know everything. If he wanted to be prepared, then he needed to be knowledgeable.

Being prepared means not messing things up. Being prepared means being able to understand what’s going on. Being prepared means impressing your parents who are hardly ever around but still hold high standards for you.

Perhaps that’s why he followed Batman and Robin around on the rooftops at night. He wanted to be prepared, to know how Gotham’s protectors were doing, to know if they were struggling, to know if Gotham was going to be safe yet again.

He was a collector of information; a hoarder. Tim knew random facts about random things. He could recite the digits of Pi to you if you asked. Tim just loved to read, and he loved to learn, to figure out new things.

It was a Wednesday afternoon and Tim was staying in the library after school to work on his homework. Gotham Academy frequently held events like this, where students could stay after school from 4:00 - 5:30 in the library. The purpose of it was to encourage students to stay on top of their work. Tim had always gotten As, so there really wasn’t a need for him to stay. But to him, being in the library was better than going back to that empty home of his.

He had been working on a project for Science when he suddenly heard a loud commotion

Looking up, Tim tried to identify where it had come from. His eyes finally landed on a trio of girls in the corner of the library. They were talking among themselves and glancing around suspiciously. He wanted to know what they were saying.

Quietly getting up from the table he was sitting at, Tim crept over to where they were standing. Hiding behind a bookshelf, he tried to listen in on their conversation.

“Ugh! I hate her so much! She’s so annoying!”

“I know, right? I can’t believe she acts like she’s so much better than all of us!”

“Yeah, teacher’s pet, much?”

Who were they talking about?

Once Tim had gotten closer, he realized he recognized those girls. They were what you would call “popular”. It felt like those girls knew everyone, and they always wore tons of makeup, and right now, Tim was pretty sure what they were wearing was violating dress code (even though school was over now, but they’d worn that the whole day).

If he had known they were the ones making the loud noise, he might as well have minded his own business. Tim did not like them one bit. And he had the misfortune of having a lot of classes with them. They were always disruptive.

He remembered that at the beginning of the school year, they’d always try to stick to him and ask him for “help” on the homework. Or, whenever there was group work, they’d try to be in a group with him so he’d do everything.

Despite that, they had gotten his attention, and now that he was already here, Tim wanted to know what they were talking about.

“Seriously, who does she think she is, ignoring us? She’s so rude,”

“All we wanted was some help, she didn’t have to act like that.”

Whoever those girls were talking about, Tim felt really sorry for them. She didn’t deserve this. Judging by their words, they were trying to finagle someone into doing their work for them. Good thing that she didn’t agree. But by tomorrow, the whole school would probably know and that girl’s social life would be ruined.

Chk-chk-chk!

Tim heard the sound of a cart coming closer and closer. One of the librarians was probably restocking the bookshelves. In a panic, Tim pulled out a random book from the bookshelf and opened it to act as if he was interested in it. He could hear the three girls in the bookshelf behind him do the same. When the librarian passed by him, Tim relaxed a little. Thank god she hadn’t said anything (the librarians really don’t like it if you just stand around and do nothing).

A few seconds later, the librarian was gone from this section of the library. Behind him, he could hear the shuffling of feet and Tim put his book back on the shelf.

The girls continued talking, but in a low whisper, and Tim had to strain his ears to hear them.

“I don’t understand why she won’t help us when she keeps hanging around Tim!”

“Tim?”

“Y’know, the Drake kid, his family’s super rich. Isn’t it obvious she’s hanging around him because of that?”

“Ha! Figures. You know her parents own a bakery, right? She’s probably trying to stick close to him so his parents will throw some money on the bakery or something,”

Wait a second, were they talking about一

“Marinette’s definitely doing that. Who does she think she’s fooling? Too bad Tim doesn’t seem to notice,”

Too stunned to think, Tim accidentally knocked a book over. He immediately ducked down, holding his breath and hoping he wouldn’t be caught.

“What was that? Do you think someone heard us?”

“Who cares? We’re right, aren’t we?”

“Can we just get out of here? I don’t want to stay in this school any longer! Let’s go to the mall or something,”

“Fine,”

After the girls left, Tim couldn’t do anything but crouch there with his back to the bookshelf.

What were those girls talking about? When had Marinette ever done that?

It took a few moments, but Tim finally got up and tried to hurry back to his table to his things. In his haste to get back, he hadn’t looked where he was going and bumped into someone.

“I am so sorry! Really, I’m一”

Looking up, Tim found himself face to face with Marinette. She looked surprised, and her hands were trembling.

“Marinette? Are you alright? I didn’t know you were here too,”

If he had known, he would’ve sat together with her!

She rubbed her arm, “O-oh… Tim, hi. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. I just wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

Marinette looked off. She was avoiding his eyes, which was strange. Marinette typically liked to maintain eye contact with whoever she was talking to.

Well, based on the direction she was coming from, she was at a bookshelf, probably browsing the section. The bookshelf she was at must’ve been behind the one he had been at, which meant she had been behind the one that trio of girls was at and一

“Oh,” Tim softly uttered. “Marinette, did you hear what those girls said?”

Although she didn’t say anything, the fact that she flinched after he asked her was a good enough answer for him.

“I一 what they said wasn’t true! I mean, I didn’t become friends with you because you were rich! It’s a misunderstanding, I swear! Everything they said was wrong, I seriously just like hanging out with you.

I hope you like hanging out with me, too, but you probably don’t, now that you think I’m only after your family’s money! But I don’t need it, at least, I mean, my family’s bakery is doing very well so there’s no need for any financial help, but that doesn’t mean donations aren’t appreciated but that’s still not why I’m friends with you!

And, I don’t think I act like I’m better than everyone else. Do you think I act like that? Am I annoying? I don’t try to be but I can’t tell!

I only ignored those girls because they kept trying to get me to do their homework for them! And there was no way I was going to do that because what if it gets caught? That kind of thing is going to ruin my record and then I’ll be known as someone who helped others cheat and I won’t be able to get accepted into college and then I’ll never get to become a fashion designer and why would I want that?

I don’t even know why they would say that about me, but I’m so sorry. Seriously, I’m not the type of person to get close to people for money, that’s just against what I believe in!”

All of that came out of Marinette's mouth as one big long speech and it took a few moments for Tim to process what she said. Marinette truly was a master at speaking really fast.

Taking in a deep breath, Tim slowly said, “Marinette, it’s alright, I believe you,”

She looked up at him with watery eyes. “You do?”

“Of course I do!” He flashed a smile at her. “Why would I believe them over you? They aren’t my friends, you are. Anything you say means more to me than a single syllable that comes out of their mouths.”

Pausing for a second, Tim watched as his words sunk in.

“I know how those girls are, they’ve tried to ask me for ‘help’ in the past, too. I refused to let them cheat off of me, and I’m glad you refused to let them, too.

And of course I like hanging out with you! I mean, you’re just really funny and smart and you always smell really good! Wait, that last part sounds weird, I meant, well, y’know, since you live in a bakery you always smell like pastries and that’s nice ‘cause who doesn’t like pastries and I don’t think I’m explaining myself very well一”

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Marinette and Tim couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“I know what you mean, Tim,”

“Right. And I uh, know for a fact that you never became my friend because my family’s rich because you didn’t even know where I lived until that time you came over when I was sick. You said it yourself, you had to call the school to find out! And you’ve never mentioned Drake Industries or my parents’ money or anything like that with me!”

To be honest, the fact that Marinette had found out about him being a ‘Drake’ had completely slipped his mind. Since the beginning of their friendship, Tim hadn’t really said anything about who his family was and it never really came up in their conversations. That was one thing he liked about being friends with Marinette.

To her, things like wealth and social status didn’t matter. Which was sort of bad if she wanted to do networking, but it just meant Marinette liked or disliked people for who they were as a person, and not for other reasons.

And even after Marinette had found out his family was rich, she never brought it up, which allowed for Tim to forget about it. She truly didn’t care.

After he finished talking, Marinette wiped her eyes before giving him a tentative smile.

“Thanks for believing me,” she said. “I was sort of worried that you wouldn’t, I mean, this sort of thing has happened to me before. Back in Paris, there was this girl who wouldn’t stop bullying me. When we were younger, she spread bad rumors about me and drove my friends away. I couldn’t do anything about it because her parents were really important. I thought I was going to lose another friend,”

“Well you don’t need to worry about me,” Tim started, “I can’t be driven away so easily! I’m going to be your friend no matter what!”

Marinette hugged him after that, and Tim reciprocated. He definitely wanted Marinette to stay in his life.

After letting go, Marinette turned to him and said, “We should probably sit down now. I can feel the librarians’ staring at us from over there.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, in an amused voice, “Should I move my stuff over to you or are you…”

“I can move over to your table! By the way, how far along are you on the Science project?”

“Funny you should ask, I was actually working on it just now,”

With that misunderstanding cleared up, Tim somehow felt lighter. He was happy. But with that being said, he still needed to do some damage control.

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

At the mall…

Tim looked around at the food court, trying to find which table it was. Finally, his eyes landed on a small table with three girls sitting at it, eating their food.

Walking up to them, he took a seat in the empty chair without asking first. He greeted them with a cheery smile.

“Tim! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, nothing, just here to clear up a little misunderstanding.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“Nothing much. Just making sure that you three weren’t about to spread any nasty rumors about Marinette, were you?”

“N-no, we would never, we never said anything, how did you一”

“Great,” getting up, Tim pushed his chair in before addressing the girls one last time. “But let me be clear, if something were to… accidentally slip from one of your mouths, well, Drake Industries might just accidentally break off all negotiations with your families’ companies. Of course, I’m not saying it will happen, but sometimes, accidents can occur, am I right?”

Gulping and exchanging frantic looks with each other, the girls nodded.

Satisfied, Tim turned his back on them, “Well, that was all I had to say. Enjoy your food, and I’ll see you tomorrow at school,”

一

Tim is nice and all but you better watch out if you try to hurt his friends

[naminethewriter]

Vacation

This is my entry for the @sandersidesbigbang! I had a lot of fun participating 🥰 Thanks to all the mods for organizing this! Also huge thanks to @just-a-pintrovert & @5-falsehoods-phonated for beta reading 💙 There is also some artwork also from @just-a-pintrovert here! They did a fantastic job and I highly recommend you check out her blog! And now, enjoy!

Here on Ao3

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Roman, Janus, Logan, Remus

Relationships: platonic Intrulogical, platonic Prinmoxiety, platonic Moceit

Rating: T

Words: 12,502

Summary:  Logan doesn't show up for breakfast one morning, leaving behind a letter declaring he's going on vacation. Unsure of its authenticity, Roman, Patton and Virgil go to look for him on Remus' side of the Imagination with a certain snake as their guide.

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

It started out like any other day. Patton entered the kitchen around 7 in the morning to prepare breakfast. Logan should join him soon, then Roman around an hour later and Virgil after that. When exactly was hard to say, the anxious side’s sleep schedule was the most inconsistent, but most of the time he was up last. Today Patton wanted to make an extra special breakfast since their discussion the day before had gotten a bit out of hand and nobody walked away from it happy. He just hoped all his kiddos would show up. 

Half an hour later that fear proves to be warranted. Logan still hasn’t come down. Patton had even checked the coffee machine to make sure he hadn’t missed him. But it was still as clean as he had left it yesterday. Nervously his eyes flicker from the stove to the clock and over to the stairs before he focuses on making breakfast again, but his eyes would stray every few seconds. 

Five minutes later he finally hears movement upstairs. Logan probably had been exhausted yesterday and stayed in bed a bit longer than usual. Someone was coming down the stairs now and Patton turns around with a big smile, expecting Logan but coming across Virgil instead. 

 

“Oh,” Patton says, his smile slipping. But he immediately catches the insecure look on Virgil’s face at his reaction. “Sorry, kiddo,” he laughs, trying his best to seem cheerful. “I thought you were Logan, but I’m happy to see you, too! It’s quite early for you though. Did you not sleep well?” Now that he takes a closer look, Patton can see the tiredness on Virgil’s face, who gives him a weak smile. 

 

“Morning, popstar. I just woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep so I figured might as well get up, y’know?” He moves over to the coffee machine, looking at it confused for a few seconds before he seems to realize what else Patton had said. “Logan wasn’t here yet?” 

 

“I don’t think so,” Patton shakes his head, his eyes now fixed on the stove so that Virgil doesn’t see the concern across his face. “I’m sorry there’s no coffee, you know I’m no good at making some.” He tries to play it off as a joke with a laugh but even he knows it’s not convincing. Virgil hovers at the coffee machine, unsure of what to do, how to comfort Patton. Instead, he moves to make the coffee himself and trying to cheer the other up with words. 

 

“It’s fine, Pat. I can do it and I’m sure Lo’s gonna come down soon. We all had a lot to think about yesterday… Maybe he just needs some more time to think it through again this morning. But you know how he is, he’ll come down and act like it was nothing later. You’ll see.” At the end of his little ramble, the machine is in the process of brewing and Virgil gives Patton a short hug before moving to set the table. 

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Patton mumbles, more to himself than to Virgil and continues to work on breakfast. 

 

Around 20 minutes later, Roman arrives, a lot more energized than Virgil had been. “What a wondrous morrow! ‘Tis a day to sing and dance, I say!” Both Patton and Virgil chuckle at his boasting. 

 

“Good morning to you too, Roman,” Patton greets as he pulls him into a loose hug before going back to distribute their breakfast onto the plates Virgil had sat out. 

 

“I’m surprised to see you arrive before me, Doom-and-Gloom,” Roman says to Virgil while preparing his own mug of coffee. The other had taken seat on the counter after finishing his part of breakfast preparations and watched Patton work the rest of the time while slowly nursing his coffee (I say slowly but he is already working on his second mug). Virgil just shrugs. 

 

“Couldn’t get back to sleep.” Roman hums in acknowledgment and then silence falls over the kitchen, only Patton scurrying around is heard. Not long however before Patton cheerfully announces: “Breakfast is ready!” 

 

“Wonderful!” Roman exclaims loudly. “What a marvelous feast you prepared for us, padre!” Patton giggles. 

 

“Thank you for the compliment, my prince.” 

 

“My, of course! What kind of ruler would I be if I couldn’t appreciate my subjects!” 

 

“A pretty standard one,” Virgil adds with a small smile. Roman huffs. 

 

“Only more proof that I am exceptional.” 

 

“That you are, Roman,” Patton laughs, but he sobers up suddenly, now looking worried again. 

 

“What’s wrong, padre? Tell me your worries and I shall strike them down with my sword!” Roman proclaims loudly in hopes of banning that expression from Patton’s face. The other gives him a small smile before looking over to the stairs. 

 

“Logan still hasn’t come down. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’m worried,” he explains. Roman quickly looks towards the stairs as well, this is the first he’s heard of their nerd not arriving this morning. It wasn’t unusual for Logan to go back upstairs after having his first cup of coffee, opting to get a bit more work done before the rest of them get up. But not coming down at all was rare. A glance towards Virgil shows him that the anxious side is worrying his bottom lip, eyeshadow a bit darker than normal. Roman places both his hands on Patton’s shoulders in a reaffirming grip and smiles at him. 

 

“I’m sure our nerd just got lost in a book or something. I shall go fetch him at once.” 

 

“Thank you,” Patton says with a small smile that Roman returns before he heads back up the stairs. Logan’s room was the one furthest away from the common area. He’d always reasoned that he didn’t want any of the noise to travel to his door and Roman could see his point. Logan was the only one of them that stuck to a regulated sleep schedule and was often the first one to retire back upstairs. And sometimes Patton, Virgil and himself could forget to be quiet afterwards so choosing the longer distance was reasonable. Roman finally arrives at the door to the logical side’s room and was about to knock when something catches his eye. Rather it is hard to overlook. Taped to the door is a thin, dark blue folder that stands out against the light brown wood of the door. On the front ‘To Patton, Roman and Virgil’ is written. With furrowed brows, Roman pulls the folder off the door and opens it, scanning the first page before hurrying back downstairs. 

 

“Guys!” he calls out, halfway down the stairs, apparently interrupting a conversation between the left-behind sides. They don’t look bothered by it however but rather concerned at his sudden re-entrance without the side he was supposed to get. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Patton asks, voice rising in concern. Roman just hands them the folder. Virgil takes it since Patton seems to be shaking from the nerves and flips it open. The first page was a simple, printed letter that read: 

 

Good morning fellow sides. 

 

After the conclusion of yesterday’s discussion, I have decided to finally 

follow through with something I had planned for a while now: 

 

I am going on vacation. 

 

In the last few months, following Janus’ acceptance and further involvement 

in our daily lives, the tension in our group has been rising and I must say, 

it figuratively suffocates me. Any attempts to resolve said tension has been 

disapproved of and you continue to disregard my contributions to various 

problems. I cannot work in this environment any longer. I have finished  

Thomas’ schedule for the next two weeks. I did my best to consider your 

and Janus’ previously given advice to ensure that it covers selfcare and  

productivity. If you want to make changes, go ahead but do not complain 

to me if it does not work out as you hoped. I have done my part now. I am 

not sure when I will return but I should not be gone longer than those two 

weeks. Do not summon me unless it is a life-or-death situation. I have  

prepared a place to stay and I am being provided for. I will continue to keep  

an eye on Thomas regardless but I do not see any need to appear in person. 

 

I wish you a pleasant time, 

Logan Logic Sanders 

 

Silence hung over the three for a few moments. 

 

“You think he’s pranking us?” Patton finally askes. Roman hums in consideration but Virgil scoffs. 

 

“Since when is Logan a prankster?” He pulls out the other sheets of paper from the folder. “These are definitely from him; I doubt even Deceit could fake them so accurately.” Truly, the schedule was color-coded and formatted in a manner that was very familiar. Roman pulls the papers out of Virgil’s grasp. He quickly scans it and whistles appreciatively. 

 

“This really is his best one yet, I must say.” 

 

“Where do you think he went?” Patton askes, his gaze fixed on the stairs. “He wrote he’s being provided for but what does that even mean?” The other two could immediately tell how worried he was. They exchange a quick glance and Roman puts a hand on Pat’s shoulder. 

 

“Well, there aren’t many places he could be... Him staying here in the mindscape would defeat the purpose of going on vacation. He could have gone to the dark side but I doubt that, it felt like he’s avoiding Deceit as well and if he’s in the imagination, I should be able to tell but I can’t feel him there...”  

 

“Where did you find this anyway?” Virgil askes and holds up the folder. 

 

“It was taped to his door.” 

 

“So you didn’t actually check his room, right?” Roman brightens. 

 

“I did not! Great idea, Hot Topic. Let’s go!” He runs back upstairs. 

 

“How does he have so much energy in the morning?” Virgil groans but he follows after him, Patton in tow. When they arrive upstairs, Logan’s door is wide open and Roman could be heard humming inside. Virgil immediately pales. 

 

“Princey, what the fu-” He glances at Patton. “-frick are you doing?” he hisses, not crossing the threshold. Roman, who was currently going through the papers on Logan’s desk, shoots him a look. 

 

“Searching for clues, like you suggested.” 

 

“I never said that!” 

 

“You said to check his room!” 

 

“I meant knock to see if he’s in here, not waltz in and go through his stuff!” 

 

“Why are you whisper-hissing? Logan’s not here, I already checked his bathroom, closet and under the bed.” 

 

“Why would you-? Ugh, never mind,” Virgil groans and does cautiously enter the room, followed by Patton who looks around curiously. 

 

“I haven’t really been in here for ages!” he gasps. Virgil furrows his brows. 

 

“You go to his room all the time though?” 

 

“Yeah, sure, to check on him. He doesn’t really invite me in though and I don’t wanna pry...” He takes another look around, this time more apprehensively. “It feels kinda wrong to be in here. Without his permission, I mean.” 

 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Virgil exclaims, biting at a nail nervously. “C’mon, we verified he’s not here, let’s go.” 

 

“Verified? Boy, the nerd’s room’s already getting to you, huh?” Roman scoffs and lays back a few papers he doesn’t find interesting. “And we haven’t found any clues yet, leaving would be a waste.” 

 

“Roman, we are not here to snoop through Logan’s stuff. We just wanted to confirm that he is not here.” Patton scolds, both he and Virgil are already back by the door. Roman rolls his eyes. 

 

“Hold on, I’m almost done. How is it that I’m the one who’s been in here the longest but I’m the least affected by the room?” he mumbles a bit loudly to not be intentional while checking around the desk. 

 

“No, Sherlock Homeinvader, we’re leaving,” Virgil insists, presses the folder he was still holding on to in Patton’s hands and goes over to him to drag him back himself as Roman dramatically gasps. 

 

“What do we have here?” he asks even more dramatically and bends down, grabbing something out of what appears to be Logan’s trash can. Virgil nose wrinkles. 

 

“Disgusting, dude.” 

 

“Relax, it’s just a bunch of paper. Well, paper and this!” He holds up a container. A very familiar container. Pickled Poo Logs, Remus’ favored snack. Easily recognizable by his face at the top, though there are dicks doodled over the rest of the label. Virgil immediately snatches it out of his hand. 

 

“Remus was here?” Patton hesitantly comes over to take a look himself. “Maybe Logan was just curious about it? He gets like that sometimes, you know?” His nervous tone sabotages his attempt at lightening the mood, especially since he doesn’t sound convincing, even to himself. 

 

“With dicks drawn all over it? No, Nerdy Wolverine would have asked for a clean one,” Roman comments and turns the case over in his hands, inspecting it. 

 

“You think Remus kidnapped him?” Virgil asks, panicked. 

 

“Considering the folder, unlikely. Oh, there’s the room’s effect!” Roman hums, pleased. “No, it is unlikely that Logan left involuntarily but he may have been tricked. Remus is an idiot but he’s not totally stupid. And he kind of fixated on our braincell after his introductory video.”  

 

“What has Remus done now?” calls an exasperated voice from the door. All three of them spin around to see Janus leaning against the doorframe, inspecting his gloved fingers with a small smirk on his lips. Virgil growls at him immediately and Janus rolls his eyes in response. “Oh, yes, please do keep acting like a guard dog, Virgil, it is so becoming of you.” Before he could snap back, Patton lays a hand on Virgil’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. He continues glaring but falls silent.

“Hello Janus, what brings you here?” Patton asks, trying to sound cheerful but even to Roman and Virgil it sounds forced. It doesn’t fool Janus for even a second.

“I went to the kitchen to make my morning cup of tea and no one else was there as usual so I decided to come up here for no reason at all.” His smirk stays however he seems to eye Patton very carefully who laughs nervously in response.

“Oh, sorry about that. We didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried, merely… curious. You lot seldomly break your morning routine, especially Logan, so seeing him in particular absent from this group despite us being all gathered here in his room, I do wonder what is going on. Care to enlighten me?”

“We don’t care to. This is none of your business, leave Deceit!” Virgil practically spits. Janus tuts and shakes his head.

“On the contrary, dear Virgil, if this does indeed involve Remus, it is entirely my business. He has been acknowledged by Thomas, not accepted. It is still a part of my duty to reign him in from time to time. To make sure he does not hurt Thomas’ mental health excessively.”

“Oh yeah, you did a great job of that before the wedding,” Roman scoffs. Janus glares at him.

“In that instance I let him looser than normal precisely to protect Thomas’ mental health in the long run. He was pushing himself too much, acknowledging Remus’ presence was supposed to help him clear his head a little,” he hisses and Virgil snorts.

“That worked out so well.”

“Sssssshhut up!”

“Kiddos! Please, let’s not fight, we have more pressing things to deal with right now!” Virgil and Roman grumble but don’t interject. Janus looks defensive, still glaring at the two of them. “Logan is missing,” Patton continues. “He left us this note but it’s so unlike him, we aren’t sure if we should trust it. While we checked his room, Roman found one of Remus’ deodorants, so we suspect he might be involved somehow.” Apparently deciding to abandon his staring match with Virgil, Janus walks over to Patton and lays a hand on his shoulder.

“I understand the situation. Could I look at the note and the deodorant, please?”

“Oh, sure,” Patton says with a light blush and hands over the folder. Janus quietly thanks him before thumbing through the pages. The letter he looks at last.

“Ah, yes. I did indeed warn him about his habit to overwork himself a few times recently. If he is taking a break, then I am more inclined to let him do so.”

“We don’t want to stop him from taking a break!” Patton hastily clarifies. “We’re just worried about the how. We don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. And if Remus is involved, I don’t know how much of a break he is really getting…” He trails off at the end, staring at his feet. Janus hums and quickly walks over to Roman to pluck the deodorant out of his hands.

“Hey!” The prince protests, but Janus doesn’t pay him any mind. Instead, he looks over the case in his hand. Once he was finished, he drops it back into Roman’s hands who squawks at him offendedly.

“From recent conversations, it did seem like Remus was getting rather attached to Logan and I don’t think they have a bad relationship. It might very well be that Logan asked the Duke for his help in this matter.”

“As if,” Virgil pouts, though he doesn’t sound entirely convinced of that himself. Janus ignores him.

“But if you feel like you need to check then I do have an idea where to look.” Patton beams at him.

“Really? Could you take us? Right now??”

“No way am I going anywhere with that snake!” Roman yells. “He might just be leading us into a trap!” Janus gives him an unimpressed look.

“And why would I do that? My job is to make sure Thomas’ mental health is in good shape. Getting all of you injured, or whatever you imagine I would want to do to you, would be nothing but counterproductive.”

“Like I believe that!”

“Regardless,” Janus says to brush off Roman’s protest who in turn only seems to get angrier, “I am afraid you do not have much of a choice. If the two are where I think they are, then you have no chance of getting there without a guide.”

“I can navigate Remus’ side of the Imagination just as well as my own, I do not need your help, Jack the Fibber!”

“I do not doubt that my prince. However, that place in particular is designed to keep unwanted visitors out. I doubt you would even find it, not to mention getting inside.”

“And what place would that be?” Virgil hisses before Roman can start yelling again.

“The library.”

“Remus… has a library?” Patton asks, doubt clear in his voice.

“No, he doesn’t. The fact that you do not know about it just proves my point. It is one of the most fortified buildings Remus has ever created. The layout constantly changes, there are traps and monsters roaming the halls.”

“If the layout changes, then why do you think you could take us there?” Patton interjects.

“Because there is one path that leads to the actual library within, and I mean only one path. Make one wrong turn or otherwise go off course and you will not find your way out easily. I got lost only once and I do not recommend it.”

“And why should we believe you?” Roman challenges, head raised high. Janus seems amused by his stubborn antagonism.

“I do not care if you believe me or not. You are the ones that want to check on Logan. I am only offering to take you since I had planned to go there soon anyway. And I need to see what Remus is doing from time to time. You can come along or not, it is totally. Up. To. You.” Janus emphasizes the last words by poking Roman lightly in the chest after each syllable, all the while smirking up at him. Roman continues to glare but he couldn’t quite repress the slight flush of his cheeks at Janus’ proximity. The snakelike side laughs lightly before making his way back to the door.

“I will leave after breakfast. You do what you think is right,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing back down the hallway, leaving the others in silence.

“He has got to be tricking us, right?” Virgil growls after a few seconds. Roman nods in agreement but Patton looks thoughtful.

“I don’t think so. He has no reason to.”

“He’s Deceit, Patton. It’s all he knows.”

“Look, I know you both had your differences with him and I’m still adjusting too, but Janus is an integral part of Thomas, we cannot deny that anymore. I am sure he does not want anything truly bad to happen to any of us, so if this is a trick then it is probably only a small prank.” Virgil and Roman share a look of disbelief but Patton doesn’t stop there. “And besides, what other options do we have? Sit around and hope that Logan is truly okay? Or comb through Remus’ side on our own? Your powers barely work over there Roman, and the place is not small, right?”

“Right,” Roman admits with a sigh after a few seconds of silence. “And I am worried about Nerdy Wolverine, if we don’t do anything about this, I will go stir crazy, so I guess I can try and trust that snake for a bit.”

“Thank you, Ro!” Patton pulls him into a hug, beaming. Roman chuckles and pats his back.

“Yeah, yeah, anything for you, padre.” He turns to Virgil. “Are you going to come along?”  

“…Fine,” Virgil grumbles, still clearly unhappy about the situation. “But if it turns out that he’s up to something, I am totally going to tell you ‘I told you so’.” Roman rolls his eyes.

“Sure, whatever makes you happy, Emo Nightmare.”

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

The track through Remus’ side of the Imagination hadn’t been pleasant. The atmosphere was tense and Patton’s attempts to lighten the mood didn’t cheer anyone up. Roman and Virgil did their best to ignore Janus and the deceitful side himself accepted their stubbornness quietly. Only Patton really talked, though even he gave up after a while. Thankfully, they didn’t come across any of Remus’ monsters but the landscape they had to track through was nightmarish enough and won’t be discussed here. Now they stood before their apparent goal.

“This… is it?” Roman asks, doubtfully. The building in front of them is a rather cliché-looking mansion from horror games. It is a wide, stone structure with two floors that seems to have high ceilings. It’s dark and intimidating looking though on closer inspection, the construction style seems to change randomly. A different kind of stone here, another window frame there. Apparently, Remus stitched together different buildings and haphazardly added details wherever it pleased him. For example, the house of Jack Skellington from Nightmare Before Christmas is sticking out of the roof, completely intact but just… there.

What stands out most though, is the glass dome further back on the building. Not because it is the most impressive but because it’s the only thing that is illuminated, emitting a soft yellow glow. All the other windows are pitch black.

“Not satisfied, Roman?” Janus smirks.

“Well, yes. I expected more from my brother’s so-called masterpiece!”

“I definitely called it his masterpiece,” Janus says as he rolls his eyes. “And the interior is the more impressive part. The exterior Remus changes every so often when he gets new inspiration. I think the last remodeling came after Thomas researched that giant lady and the game she’s in.”

“You mean the one you stole your skirt look from?” Virgil smiles, mischievously.

“Yes, because my look wasn’t almost finished by the time Thomas found out about her!” Janus hisses at him with a glare. Virgil shows him his tongue.

“Kiddos, please stop. We’re here for Logan, let’s concentrate!” Patton tries to encourage teamwork but again is not really successful.

“Ugh, fine,” Virgil scoffs and glares at Janus one last time before turning back to the building in front of them.

“Let’s just get this over with. Remus’ side always gives me chills,” Roman complains.

“Very well.” Janus adjusts his gloves before clearing his throat. “Once we enter, as I haven’t told you before, there is one path we need to follow, so I need you to listen to my instructions carefully and let me take the lead. I know it’s very hard for you to go along with other people’s plan but trust me on this one, Roman.” He grins over at the prince whose face is turning red in anger. Before he can explode, Patton steps in.

“No provocation from you either, Janus! If we have to rely on you as you say, then make an effort to be reliable in return!” He leans close to Janus and pouts, giving him his best I’m-disappointed-in-you-and-I-know-you-can-do-better look.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop as well.” Janus waves him off. “The instructions can be stupidly specific sometimes, at one point we will have to stick to one side of a corridor, for example, but there will also be traps, distractions and monsters. Though – and make sure to remember that – nothing truly dangerous can access the path. So even if something comes charging at us, I need you to stay calm and not run around like headless chickens. I will not save you from your own stupid decisions.”

“Oh yes, so trustworthy. Thank you greatly for your generosity.” Roman rolls his eyes and Patton shots him a slight glare, making him huff but refrain from further comments. Janus ignores him completely.

“Our goal is the dome and usually it should take not over half an hour to arrive there.” Now Roman looks sceptic for a different reason.

“If we just need to get to the dome then can’t we just climb the building and get in from the roof?”

“Oh yes, what a great plan, I can’t believe I have never thought of that before!” Janus exclaims, hand on his heart but quickly drops the act. “The interior and exterior aren’t connected like that. Since Remus shifts the inside around as much, no window or door – other than the main entrance – connect to a specific room. It will just drop you randomly somewhere in the mansion. And as I’ve stated before, that is not something you want to happen. So no, we can’t do this like a heist movie.” Roman looks angry again but doesn’t comment. Patton pats him on the shoulder (which only seems to sour his mood more) before addressing Janus.

“Alright, we will follow your lead.” he says with a smile. Janus nods at him stiffly before moving towards the front door without another word, the others following behind him with tense expressions (though Patton tries, and fails, to hide his).

The door to the mansion is made of a heavy, red wood that Janus pushes open without hesitation. Behind it lies… a rather normal looking entrance hall. There is a long carpet that leads to the grand staircase in the middle of the room. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling and the decoration is tasteful. Or rather, it used to be. As impressive as the hall is, it is rotting away. There’s dust everywhere, as well as spiderwebs and the air is thick and unpleasant.

“This place has so much potential if my brother bothered to take care of it,” Roman huffs as he looks around. Janus doesn’t respond but instead gives more instructions.

“Follow behind me in a line. And please do walk next to each other, that wouldn’t be risky at all.” After saying that, he moves toward the back of the hall, left of the staircase where a door is situated. “Behind here is where the dangerous path starts. Be. Very. Careful,” Janus stresses, looking back at the others who had followed him.

“Will do!” Patton responds, with faux cheerfulness. Roman and Virgil sigh but they do line up. Their marching order is Janus, Patton, Virgil and Roman in the back. The first few hallways and rooms they pass aren’t all that bad. They have a few disgusting gimmicks – bleeding walls, gooey carpets, a mirror that insults you when you stand before it – but nothing too severe. The first truly shocking room (though it really should have been expected, in hindsight) they come across is…

“Is this the playroom from Fifty Shades of Grey?” Virgil asks after they all simply stared at the contents of the room for a few moments.  

“Thomas hasn’t even seen that movie!” Roman exclaims, very red in the face. He is also holding Patton’s glasses to protect his purity while Virgil holds his hand while he is effectively blind. Janus shrugs his shoulders.

“The scene has been referenced in enough videos and interviews that we have a basic understanding of what happened in it. And that might have been where Remus got the idea from, but he definitely modified it to be more to his taste. It is a room for BDSM though.”

“How… How do you know that?” Roman asks, still very much embarrassed.

“… Just be grateful that there are no people in here today,” is all Janus is willing to admit before heading towards the door that allows them to continue. The corridor behind it is dimly lit and a few lights even flicker. Janus leads them on confidently, the others follow him back in line and with Patton’s glasses returned to their owner. However, the creepy feeling of the hallway has Patton continue to cling onto Virgil’s hand, who is the side of the group most comfortable with horror. Roman has one hand on his sheathed sword – that he had strapped to his side before they entered Remus’ side of the imagination – and the other has a tight grip on Virgil’s hoodie. The anxious side isn’t very happy about how the two clinging to him limits his movement, but he can understand their worries, so he lets it slide.

“Did you hear that?” Patton squeaks out and for a moment Virgil doesn’t know what he means before a thump echoes down the hallway. They freeze, bringing Roman to a stop behind them.

“What’s wro- “

“Shhhhhh!” The rumbling becomes louder and now Janus notices that they had stopped following. He, unlike Roman can guess as to why so he just waits ahead in slight annoyance. He had warned them before entering, he won’t tell them again. By now Roman had caught on and he grips the sword tightly, ready to draw.

Ahead of them, a monster comes around the corner. It has the body of a gorilla and walks on all fours, but its head is that of a snake and a pair of wings grow from its back. That would have been enough to scare Patton, maybe even Roman, but the most noticeable and gruesome attribute of the monster were its injuries. Maybe it was supposed to be a kind of zombie, since there are large chunks of flesh missing from its gorilla body, other patches lacked fur and again others ooze a liquid that may have been blood if it wasn’t so obviously sticky.  

The snake head isn’t fairing much better. It misses some scales and there are a few black spots that might have been burn marks. One of the wings seems undamaged though its partner looks all the worse for it. There are hardly any feathers left and the bones that are now left exposed seem broken in a few places and hang limply in a way that looks very, very wrong.

The monster spots them easily, makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a mix of a hiss and a roar and charges at them. Roman curses quietly and quickly pushes Virgil and Patton behind him. Janus looks unbothered, he is leaning against the wall and waits for it to be over. The monster gains more and more speed (considering the length of the corridor, it doesn’t make sense how long the charge takes), sprinting at them, until – oh so suddenly – it collides with something and crashes to the ground. Roman, Virgil and Patton stare at it with open mouths.

“I told you: as long as we stick to the path, nothing can hurt us,” Janus explains nonchalantly before resuming his way down the corridor, towards the beast that twitches on the ground. The others stare at it a moment longer before they hurry after Janus.

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

The next few corridors and rooms were not all that difficult. One hallway was filled with spike traps that they had to avoid, and they passed three different torture rooms, all with different equipment. Janus explained that Remus liked to separate them by era and country, so he had, for example, one room filled with torture instruments used in the witch hunts in Germany from 1550 to 1650. And while they weren’t nice to look at, the rooms were empty and so it was left to their own imaginations as to how the instruments might have been used.

The next impactful incident happens in a corridor with a ceiling that falls down and crushes everyone beneath it. To avoid it, Janus told them to stick as close to the right wall of the hallway as possible. Their pace is significantly slower this way but none of them wanted to be squished so they carefully set one foot in front of the other.

“We’re almost there,” Janus calls to the others. The passage isn’t all that long but with the literally looming threat, it sure feels like it.

“Pat, you’re not stepping right,” Virgil hisses and pulls him more to the side.

“Sorry!” the moral side squeaked. “I think my glasses are smudged a bit. It makes it hard to see.”

“Oh, sorry, padre. That might have been me when I held them for you,” Roman apologizes.

“It’s alright, kiddo. I do it myself all the time.”

“Well, better clean them before one of your feet get crushed. Everyone stop!” Virgil commands and though he seems annoyed, Janus complies. Patton gives them an apologetic smile before taking his glasses off to wipe them clean with his shirt as best as he can.

Unable to hold still, Roman shuffles a bit on the ground and that’s when he makes a mistake. One of his feet lands too far away and a click comes from the ceiling. With a whoosh and a bang, part of the ceiling comes down. Virgil startles so bad that he lunges forward a bit, upsetting Patton’s balance and sending him to the floor, taking Janus with him. Thankfully, they don’t trigger another trap, but Patton’s glasses fall to the ground and skitter down the hallway.

“Are you alright?” Virgil asks, frantically, moving to help Patton up.

“I’m fine, but my glasses…”

“Do not worry, I will get them back for you!” Roman proclaims before starting to climb over Virgil and Patton still on the floor to get to the front.

“Watch it, Prince Douche!”

“I am, Emo Bitch!”

“Language!”  

Roman manages to get past both of them and Janus before the latter grips his arm to stop him.

“Don’t!” he hisses. Roman eyes him skeptically.

“And why not, oh Great Deceiver?” he mocks.

“Because we need to make a right here! The glasses are off the path!” Understanding blooms on Roman’s face and he looks back towards the glasses, a few feet away from the crossing they need to take.

“I can’t just grab them real quick and come back?”

“No. Once you’re off the path you can’t just turn around. I doubt you’ll even be able to still see us then.”

“It’s okay,” Patton calls from the back. He and Virgil are back on their feet. “I have a spare pair in my room, if you guide me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Again, I’m so sorry, Padre.”

“Please stop apologizing, it’s really fine, promise!” Patton smiles but his eyes are obviously not focusing on Roman and it’s apparent just how little he can see like this.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Virgil mumbles and leads him forward and into the crossing where they are safe from more falling ceilings.

“It’s not fine,” Janus suddenly speaks up. All eyes turn to him (or where Patton thinks he is). “We’re almost at the library but Remus, as charming as he is, of course made the last stretch the most annoying. Most of the time it’s a ladder we will need to climb with traps all over them to try and get you to fall over and over and over again. I can warn you about the ones I spot but if Patton can’t see them himself, he won’t be able to avoid them properly. We need to get his glasses somehow…”

The three with working eyes pondered for a bit before Roman speaks up.

“I think Virgil might be able to reach if he lays on the ground…”

“Why me?!”

“You’re the tallest.”

“By a few inches at best!”

“Well, those few inches might just be what we need here,” Janus chimes in and Virgil glares at him.

“C’mon, Beetlejuice, you want to get out of here, right? And we can’t leave Patton behind.”

“Really, kiddos, it’s fine! I’ll manage… somehow.”

“Yes, keep saying that, it’s sooo helpful!”

“Don’t take it out on him!”

“Just stop it!” Roman yells over the chaos. “Virgil please. I’ll hold on to your foot, it’ll be fine!” Virgil eyes him for a moment before he sighs.

“Fine but you use that,” he taps against Roman’s sash, “to secure my foot. I don’t trust your milky hands.”

“Milky?!”

“Ugh, just do it!” Janus groans and is met with two glares for his effort but both Roman and Virgil get to work. With the red band firmly bound around Virgil’s shoe and Roman’s hand, the former carefully lies on the floor. Just as he is about to start robbing over to the glasses, a door down the hallway opens and a figure emerges. Virgil stares at it in disbelief.

“Why Pyramid Head?!” Indeed, the creature now slowly making its way toward them, knife dragging across the floor, was the iconic monster from Silent Hill 2. Janus is the first to regain his composure.

“At least he’s slow! Quickly grab the glasses before he gets over there!”

“Easy for you to say- “

“Stop arguing, please,” Patton begs from his position against the wall of the next corridor they would traverse. Virgil grumbles under his breath but makes his way forward. And so does Pyramid Head.

It’s like watching a (very slow) head-to-head race toward the finish line. Robbing forward on his stomach, Virgil is about as fast as Pyramid Head’s walking speed. Inch by inch, Virgil gets closer to the reach of the gigantic knife still dragging along the floor. The creature doesn’t even need to get to him, just close enough to swing its weapon.

Virgil’s ankle leaves the path as he gets close enough to try and reach the glasses. And if Pyramid Head used its blade right now, it might have a chance to hit but still it moves forward, into a position where it is more likely to strike true.

Virgil’s fingertips hit the frame. Just a little bit more. Half of his foot is still within the barrier. Roman has a firm grip on the sash. Virgil’s hand closes around the glasses and Pyramid Head raises his knife to swing down.

“Got them!”

“Janus! Help me pull him back!” Roman calls as he holds Virgil’s shoe with his tied-up hand and places the other on his ankle. Immediately, the other is beside him, grabs onto his arms and pulls. And not a second too late. The knife lands where Virgil’s head had been moments before, and Roman and Janus fall onto their asses while Virgil is trying to catch his breath and to not go into a full-blown anxiety attack.

“What happened?? Are you okay?” Patton calls over, worriedly.

Roman lets out a breathless, unbelieving laugh and collapses onto his back, the adrenaline rushing through him. Which turned out to be good because as soon as his head hits the ground, a click comes from the ceiling once again.

“Shit-!” Quickly Roman rolls to the side before his head is flattened by the trap. He must’ve moved within its range by an inch. Janus stares at him in disbelief.

“How are you alive?”

“I’m too fabulous to die.” The ridiculous response got Virgil to laugh and forget his panic for long enough to calm down.

“Guys?” Again, Patton tries to get their attention.

“We’re all fine, Pat. And I’ve got your glasses, hold on.” Virgil climbs to his feet, wipes the lenses on his hoodie to clean them as best he could before heading over to Patton and pushing them onto his nose. “How’s that?” Patton doesn’t answer, just pulls him into a hug.

“Thanks, kiddo.”

“Um… Sure. No problem,” Virgil mumbles nervously. Patton gives him a smile before looking over to the other two that are in the process of standing up. On the other side of the barrier, Pyramid Head has lost interest and was now moving away again. The sides pay him no mind.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, right?” Roman comes over to Virgil and Patton with a grin, Janus on his heels.

“Speak for yourself, princey. I’m so ready to get out of here.”

“I’m having so much fun with this. Let’s go, sadly, we’re almost there.” Janus takes the lead once again and the others follow. They pass through one more room, a laboratory of sorts with lots of blood on most of the surfaces (thankfully, the floor is mostly clean), before they enter what seems to be an elevator shaft. And indeed, the only way forward is a ladder.

“How surprising,” Janus mutters under his breath before turning back toward the others. “As I’ve said before, this part is not really dangerous, but pretty annoying. There will be traps to try and get you to fall but even if you do, you will fall slowly. Remus implemented this more as a prank than anything else. I’ll tell you about what I spot but we may need several tries.”

“Okay, we’ll trust you to not let us down,” Patton says with a wink. Janus stares at him with a blank look.

“That was terrible.” Then he starts to climb, Patton after him, then Virgil and Roman is in the back again.

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

They do indeed need more than five tries to get to the top. It was especially annoying that Patton fell for the same trap twice, requiring the rest to wait where they were until he climbed up again. Their arms are gonna be sore tomorrow for sure. But they had finally made it.

The ladder ended in another corridor but this one was clean and wonderfully decorated in greens and silver. Portraits line the walls, most of them of Remus himself, but there is one of Janus and one of both together. Most peculiar are two others however. One shows Remus grinning, arm out to the side, probably hugging someone but the other half of the painting is missing. The second is simply an empty frame.

“Self-centered much?” Roman scoffs.

“Oh yeah, like you don’t have at least a dozen different self-portraits in your castle, Prince of Narcissists,” Virgil retorts. Janus doesn’t pay any attention to the banter or the pictures for that matter. He strides ahead with purpose. Patton watches him in concern, but he feels like this isn’t a moment to pry.

At the end of the corridor is an enormous double door, also in green and silver. The handles, however, are made of gold.

“Does he have some sort of obsession with Slytherin or something?” Again, it’s Roman commenting. Janus hisses at him in disdain.

“For your information, he is a Gryffindor, same as you. And his second choice would be Ravenclaw. No, green and silver just happen to be his favorite colors.”

“Jeez, sorry.” Roman holds up his hands in surrender. “What made you so cranky?”

“Please, keep talking.” Janus rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get it over with.” He grabs the handle on one side and pushes, Patton quickly helps him with the other. Slowly the heavy material gives away and swings open. And suddenly their vision is filled with green.

In front of them is a jungle and as they take the first steps in, the humid air hits them. Birds can be heard singing somewhere but none of them are able to spot them. They stand in a clearing, although the tree line that surrounds them is only about ten feet from them. The trees themselves tower over them, their leaves lush and green, vines hanging between them. The ground is littered with bushes and plants and only one way seems to lead further inward, its stones wide and beautiful. As they look up into the sky, they can see the glass of the dome incasing them, the sun beaming down outside. Which was weird since when they had been in front of the building the weather had been quite dreary.

“Are we… really in the right place?” Patton asks, his voice hushed as if he was afraid of breaking the serenity of their surroundings by being too loud.

“Yes, we are. If you look closely, you can see a few shelves on the far side of the dome.” Janus points upward and the others follow his line of sight. Indeed, quite a ways away, they could see some brown structures following the curve of the dome.

“How are the books not falling?” Virgil questions, his eyes squinted to make out anything in the first place. Roman snorts.

“This is the imagination, Doubtful Central. Remus doesn’t want them to fall, so they don’t fall.” Virgil sticks out his tongue at the prince’s condescending tone. Patton lightly scolds them to stop fighting. Janus clears his throat.

“We need to track along the path for a bit until we reach a river. Behind it is the library.”

“And hopefully Logan,” Patton sighs. “I hope he’s okay.”

“I’m sure he is, padre. You know our nerd, he isn’t easy to beat,” Roman jokes, his hand squeezing Patton’s shoulder in support. Patton smiles at him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I’m always right!”

“You wish, princey.”

“Kiddos…” Patton almost sounds defeated and Janus pats him on the shoulder in sympathy.

“He used to be like that with Remus, too. It’ll be fine.” Patton nods and gives Janus a grateful smile. He, in turn, gives a nod in acknowledgment back and turns to back to the bickering two. “I hate to interrupt you but one more warning. Watch your feet in there. There are some books that have gone… wild.” The others stare at him a moment.

“He stole the Monster Book of Monsters, didn’t he?”

“… He created something similar at least.”

With a groan from Virgil, the group sets out and follows the path. Even though it is made of stone, there are still quite a few branches and vines to dodge. The jungle isn’t quiet either, various sounds resounding in the air. Rustling in the bushes, noises that might belong to a kind of monkey, the birds’ continuous songs. A collage of different sounds that is almost overwhelming.

Roman keeps one hand on the hilt of his sword in case one of the animals decide to come their way, his eyes scanning the trees continuously. Patton clutches one of Virgil’s hands in his own, both also checking their surroundings nervously. Meanwhile, Janus’ eyes are fixated on the ground.

After they had walked for a few minutes, the tension drops a bit. Most of the jungle’s inhabitants seem to go out of their way on their own without hostility. In that moment, a bush on the right side rustles suddenly, then one to the left and unbelievably quickly, two books shoot out of the greenery and try attacking the groups feet. Patton screams and jumps into Virgil’s arms whose eyeshadow turned a very deep black.  

“Just give them a good kick, that usually scares them off!” Janus calls over the ruckus Patton is making, mostly directed at Roman who had unsheathed his sword. He is trying to stab the books, but their binding is quite resistant, and he can’t really get a good hit in. As he hears the call however, he shoots a quick look over to Janus, who has taken a few steps away to protect himself, before swinging his leg with all his might, hitting one book directly into the spine and sending it flying into the canopy.

The second one snarls and turns its attention from Virgil, whose shoe it had been trying to chew through, to Roman, and (again quicker than you would expect from a thing with no legs) darts toward him, in a zig-zag pattern so it wouldn’t suffer the same fate as its companion.

“Shit,” Roman curses, earning a weak ‘Language!’ from Patton who was calming down now that the book wasn’t focused on him and Virgil anymore. Roman tries to land another hit but the book is too fast and lunges forward, most likely to bite him in the leg.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Virgil’s heel digs into the cover, throwing the book back down to the ground. It whimpers and quickly disappears back into the bushes. With heavy breaths does Virgil set his foot back down, Patton still in his arms. Roman whistles.

“Damn, Hot Topic! You’re stronger than I thought.”

“Well,” Virgil shrugs while Patton climbs down, “fight-or-flight, remember?” Roman laughs and pats him on the shoulder.

“Right, right.” They smile at each other for a moment before Patton speaks up.

“Where’s Janus?” Surprised, the three quickly take a look around. The deceitful side was nowhere in sight.

“I knew that slimy snake could not be trusted!” Roman yells angrily. Virgil has a similarly dark look. Patton doesn’t look convinced.

“Maybe he just went ahead? It’s not like there are any other paths we can follow, so he could have just gone ahead to scout for more bad books?”

“You really are too trusting, padre,” Roman scoffs. “But you are right, there is only one path to follow, might as well take it. Turning around now would be pointless anyway.” He and Virgil start walking forward. Patton nervously gnaws at his lip, not liking how this is turning out at all.

They do find Janus not all that far up ahead. He is crouching down in front of a bush, apparently muttering to himself. The path had winded at bit and with the branches in the way they hadn’t been able to spot him earlier. Still, Roman continues to be mad and stomps over to him.

“So now is the point where you try to abandon us?? Just what is your game, snake?!” Janus looks over his shoulder, as calmly as ever.

“Abandoning you was definitely my intention,” he scoffs before turning back around, reaching for something, and standing back up after. When he then turns to face them fully, he is holding a long, yellow snake in his arms that is winding itself around his torso. “This is Jake, I used to keep him in my room, but he took a liking to the jungle, so I let him live here, most of the time at least.” Jake stops his climbing and watches them for a moment, his tongue flickering out.

“Aww!” Patton coos before stepping a bit closer. “Can I pet him?”

“Sure, he doesn’t bite. Most of the time.” But the moral side has already stopped listening, instead stroking the snake’s head which he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Roman, who had been a bit stunned at the sudden animal in Janus’ hands, regains his composure.

“So why did you disappear then?” he demands. Janus shrugs.

“I figured you could handle two books with no actual teeth and Jake called out to me, so I went ahead to find him. There is only one path after all, I doubted you could manage to get lost.” Roman is practically fuming but Patton interjects before he can blow up.

“You can speak with him??”

“Yes. You really think Thomas modeled me after a snake and didn’t give me the ability to speak Parseltongue?”

“Cool!” Patton whispers, staring at Janus with wide eyes, who looks a bit uncomfortable with the sudden attention. He clears his throat.

“Anyway. Jake tells me that Remus is indeed here. And he’s not alone.” Immediately, Virgil’s gaze snaps to him.

“Logan?”

“Most likely. Jake has never met him before, but the description fits.”

“You don’t sound all that sure.” Janus shrugs.

“He’s just a snake. He doesn’t lie to me, but he could be wrong.”

“We should hurry,” Patton says with determination, pulling his hand back. Jake hisses in displeasure from losing the scritches he was receiving. Janus rolls his eyes.

“Come back with me today and I’ll scratch you wherever you like.” That seems to please the snake since he gives another, smaller hiss and continues his winding around Janus until he finds a comfortable position.

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

They continue along the path for another few minutes without incident. Some bushes rustled but no more books tried to attack them. Finally, they could hear the sound of rushing water. The river must be near. Unconsciously, they increase their pace until they end up before a cliff, the path just suddenly ending there. The cliff isn’t all that high, only a few feet away from the rushing stream. Some type of fish jumping out of its waters every now and again. The jungle continued to the left and right of them, no bridge in sight.

“Um… How do we get across?” Patton asks, eyeing the drop. Janus takes a second to answer, not focused on the below but the beyond.

“We don’t,” he finally answers.

“What’s that supposed to mean??” Virgil demands, yet again glaring at him. Janus shrugs while he pats Jake’s head, eyes still focused ahead of them.

“This place is one of Remus’ most treasured places and there are times when even he wants to be left alone. If he doesn’t want anyone to come here, he simply removes the bridge. There is nothing we can do.”

“So we made this entire trip for nothing?!”

“I wouldn’t say that. Look.” Janus points ahead. The others reluctantly follow his gaze. None of them have really focused on the other side yet, too preoccupied with trying to go further.

A few more trees stand along the cliff but way less dense than on their side. The path continues for a few more feet before it ends at the steps of a lightly raised wooden platform, the true start of the library. Behind a reading area, rows and rows of bookcases tower, each row bigger than the one before it until the ones merging with the wall that reach way, way higher, following the curve of the dome and still somehow letting the natural light from outside shine through.

What Janus was referring to, however, is the aforementioned seating area. Among the few tables and chairs, are some sofas, beanbags, stools, and various other seating opportunities, all in different styles and colors. Because of course Remus would never settle on one theme alone. Only one of those seats was currently occupied though.

Lying on a chaise longue, turned towards them, with a book in his hand and a steaming cup on a small table beside him, is Logan. Seemingly without a worry, their nerd is relaxed and reading. Without looking away from the pages, he reaches over, takes the cup and sips whatever drink it contains before placing it back down without a second though. It seems like their worrying had been unnecessary.

“He looks fine, right?” Virgil says, though he sounds rather nervous, and he raises his thumb to bite at the nail. Patton instinctively stops him.

“That’s good, right?” he adds, also not sounding quite convinced. Janus watches their reactions without commenting. He hadn’t been worried about the logical side, he just wanted to avoid the others working themselves up over the next few days with their wild theories.

“It is too early to say yet!” Roman proclaims. “That could just be an illusion to fool us. To let our guard down! I will not leave until I spoke with him in person.”

“Nobody said anything about leaving though?” Virgil mutters. Roman ignores him.

“But we can’t reach him,” Patton objects. “How do you wanna do that?”

“Hmm…” Roman hums and takes another look at the raging water below them. “It’s not that far across. If I jump far enough, I’m sure I could make it. And I’m an excellent climber and swimmer!”

“I would advise against that,” Janus speaks up, Roman immediately eyeing him suspiciously.

“And why is that? Huh?”

“Oh, my mistake. I assumed you would be able to recognize piranhas when you see them.” Quickly, Roman’s eyes flickered back to the river and the fish still jumping out of it occasionally. “I’m also pretty sure Remus put some sharks in there just because he could. And I mean the bloodthirsty kind.” Patton’s face is now white as chalk and Virgil had a firm grip on Roman’s sleeve.

“Fine, fine!” the prince exclaims. “No swimming, I get it!” He gestures widely and Virgil lets go of him, turning away, his ears pink in embarrassment. “Then I guess we have no other choice!”

“And what choice would that be?” Janus asks, eyebrow raised. Roman grins at him before cupping his hands over his mouth and yelling at the top of his lungs:

“LOGAN! OVER HERE! HEY! ACROSS THE RIVER!” The other three slap their hands over their ears, glaring at the prince. Roman doesn’t quiet down however, until Logan obviously takes note of them. Then he switches to waving widely. Janus rubs his temples; he has had about enough for today. Patton joins in on the waving though less enthusiastically. Virgil buries his hands in his pockets and shrinks back.

Logan does not look happy to see them. Not that they could make out much from the distance in terms of facial expressions, but he had gone stiff once he realized what was happening. He bookmarks his page before setting the book down and stands up. He turns away for a moment and Janus thinks he can hear him calling out to Remus, but the rushing of the water makes it hard to be sure. Afterwards, Logan makes his way over to them, down the steps and toward the edge of the cliff where he stops. Now they could make out the frown on his face more clearly.

“What are you doing here?” he calls over, sounding displeased. Roman hesitates to answer because of his tone, so Patton speaks up instead.

“We were worried about you, kiddo! You just up and vanished and we didn’t know where to!”

“I am aware, that was intentional. Did you not find the folder?”

“We did, but we weren’t really sure if we could trust it,” Virgil explains. Having to yell over the sound of rushing water quickly became annoying.

“What do you mean, you weren’t sure if you could trust it?” Logan frown deepens but before one of them could answer, Remus appears behind him suddenly.

“Boo!” he yells, grinning all the while. Logan rolls his eyes but doesn’t react further. Roman stiffens, Patton bites his lips and Virgil buries deeper into his hoodie in displeasure. Janus is standing to the side, petting Jake, and acting like this situation doesn’t involve him.

Remus cackles at their reactions before saying something to Logan and summoning what appears to be a soundboard. He lowers a few regulators and immediately their surroundings quiet down. The river now sounds distant, like the cliff just became a few miles deeper than before, the rustling of the leaves falls quiet, as do the birds. The surreal situation stuns all of them for a moment.

“There! That’s better, right?”

“Thank you, Remus,” Logan says before turning back to the others, not having to yell anymore. “Now please continue your explanation of why you did not heed my instructions?”

“Well, um…” Patton tries to find the right words, but before he can, Janus speaks up.

“Remus, please unmute your brother.” Everyone turns to look at Roman whose face is red and seemingly trying to yell but no sound comes out. Quickly all eyes turn back to Remus who is pouting.

“Do I have to?”

“If you don’t want them to continue assuming that you kidnapped our dear Logan over there, than you might want to consider not annoying them, yes,” Janus shrugs, apparently not really caring whether Roman gets his voice back or not. Logan raises an eyebrow and shifts his focus back toward his fellow light sides.

“You assume I was kidnapped?”

“It all happened so suddenly; we didn’t know what to think!” Patton tries to explain, eyes jumping between Logan, Roman and Remus. “Please give him his voice back,” he begs after a moment of Logan glaring at them, obviously not happy with the answer.

“But-!” Remus starts to whine before Logan puts a hand on his arm and in a low tone says: “It will only make this take even longer. Please just do it so we can get this over with?”

“Ugh, fine!” Remus groans before flicking one regulator back up but not to full volume.

“You stinking rat, I’ll run you through with my sword!” Roman yells, or at least tries to, only managing to raise his voice a little louder than his normal speaking tone. He glares at his brother when he realizes this, who flips him off in return.

“Stop fighting, kiddos, please.”

“He started it!” Roman protests but Patton just shrugs.

“And we came here without permission. Plus, we’re here to talk to Logan, not to antagonize Remus.” The prince clicks his tongue but doesn’t say any more. Remus laughs.

“Yes, listen to your Daddy, Ro-bro! Or you might get spanked later!” Logan squeezes his arm that he was still holding on to and frowns at him.

“You stop starting fights as well, Rem. I just want them to leave.”

“You know how to shut me up,” Remus grins and wiggles his eyebrows. Logan simply gives him an unimpressed stare. After a few seconds, he drops the grin and sighs. “Fine, fine. You deal with them, and I’ll go play with Bruce.” He summons his tentacles before diving into the river below. Patton gasps.

“Is he okay?!”

“He’s fine. It’s his realm so nothing he creates here will do him harm unless he wants it to,” Roman reassures, almost too quiet. Regulating his volume is going to be hard for a bit and he already looks annoyed by it. Patton nods at his reassurance before turning back to Logan.

“Where were we, kiddo?” The logical side, who had also followed Remus’ decent with his eyes, looks back up and returns to frowning.

“You were attempting to explain why you assumed I was kidnapped despite me leaving clear instructions to prove the contrary.”

“It was just very unlike you, Lo,” Virgil chimes in, still deeply buried into his hoodie. “You didn’t say anything beforehand, and we thought Deceit or the Duke might have forged the folder.”

“Exactly! And then we found my brother’s atrocious deodorant case in your trash and…” Roman trails off as he realizes what he just said.

“You… went through my trash?” Logan is now undoubtedly seething, glaring at them with cold eyes.

“Well, you see…” Roman tries to explain with a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head. Patton looks just as likely to come up with an excuse, so Virgil speaks up again.

“I asked Princey over there to check if you were in your room or not. He took that as an invitation to go snooping.”

“Very helpful, Doom and Gloom!”

“Well, it was your fault!”

“And you didn’t have to tell him that!”

“So,” Logan interrupts, voice calm but so icy that the others shiver, “let me make sure I understood this right. You found my notes and instead of trusting me and my ability to decide for myself, your first thought was that I was some damsel in distress that needed rescuing? And in your attempt to be the heroes once again you invaded my privacy as well?!” He continually got louder and louder, clearly very much angry.

“Logan, calm down, we just-“ Patton tries to interject but Logan continues, probably not even noticing that the other had spoken.

“You trust me so little, that you cannot even consider that I make decisions for my own well-being without consulting you? After pushing me aside again and again, you concluded that I cannot take care of myself? I have listed reasons for my decision in the letter I left you. Did you even consider those? Or did you assume that I would continue to let you figuratively walk all over me?” Logan takes a few deep breaths, the others stunned into silence. Once he feels like he is back in control of himself, the logical side continues, in his normal speaking voice.

“To me it is obvious that our current co-existence is neither beneficial to Thomas nor ourselves. We continue to figuratively turn in circles and no issues are truly being resolved. We all are stressed out, which makes finding a compromise even more unlikely. I had discussions on this topic with both Janus and Remus, as well as smaller conversations with all of you, if you cared to remember. And the conclusion I reached in the end was that we needed to take a step back and reevaluate. So, in order to do that, I asked Remus to help me arrange a place to stay for a few days to give us all time to reflect. He ended up inviting me here, to his library and I decided to extend my original idea into a vacation. I assure you, this all happened through my own volition.” With his arms crossed, he stares at the others, apparently awaiting an answer. Patton was the first to find his voice.

“We’re so sorry, kiddo. To us it was just a very sudden turn of events and we panicked. We should have trusted you more.”

“I trust him!” Roman huffs. “It’s Deceit and my brother that I don’t trust!” He points a finger accusingly towards Janus, who had continued to silently watch from the side and now raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. Roman addresses Logan directly. “You said you talked with them about your plan but how do you know that it wasn’t part of theirs all along?!”

“Their plan to do what exactly?”

“To drive us apart, obviously! Ever since that snake showed up, we keep fighting! It must be his fault; he wants us to not trust each other so that he can influence Thomas!” Roman’s rant was undermined by his inability to truly raise his voice and none of the others seem convinced. Not even Virgil. Logan sighs.

“I understand that Janus’ past action have hurt you, Roman, but you need to accept that he is not the villain you make him out to be. He is doing his best to protect Thomas, as we all do. And he is not always in the right, none of us are. As much as I hate admitting it, my plans and wishes for Thomas are not always the answer either, which is why I try to incorporate your suggestions into my planning. But since you all seem to refuse to acknowledge my contributions in the same way, Thomas ends up neglecting his responsibilities. I would not let Janus make all the decisions, but he deserves to voice his opinions as much as the rest of us.”

“But he lured you away!”

“As I’ve already said, the decision was mine alone. Janus was the one who brought the idea of a vacation up to me first, that is true, but I was the one to decide to ask Remus for help and not discuss it with you beforehand.”

“And why didn’t you?” Virgil chimes in. Logan glances at him before turning his eyes toward the sky.

“I was trying to avoid this exact conversation. I am tired of justifying myself to you all. I needed a break, somewhere you cannot easily get to. As I’m sure you have noticed on your way here, this library is exactly what I was looking for. I am frustrated, maybe even angry with you. I raised my voice against you earlier, which I did not want to do but I just cannot hold back anymore. I need this distance from you for a while. I need to sort out my” – he stops and bites his lips for a moment before continuing – “feelings and I do not have the room or time to do so properly while in the mindscape with you all. I had hoped that I would be able to explain this to you when I came back but you couldn’t wait, apparently.”

“And you expect us to trust them in the meantime?” Roman growls, again pointing towards Janus and then down towards the river where Remus disappeared to. Logan glares at him.

“No, Roman. I expect you to trust me for once. I can take care of myself, I can defend myself against your brother and I can do so better than you, as we all have seen before.” Roman goes red in the face and tries to retort, but Patton holds him back.

“Enough. Logan’s right, we’re in the wrong here.”

“But padre-!”

“No buts, mister.” A giggle is heard from down below. “We jumped to conclusions and came here without permission. Logan is allowed to make his own choices and while I’m not happy about it either, we should trust him.” He pats Roman on the shoulder before turning back to Logan. “Then I hope you have fun, and we’ll see you soon, okay?” He said it with a smile, but Logan frown deepens.

“Stop patronizing me, Patton. I am the same age as you and it’s demeaning. I do not need your permission to stay here.”

“I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I- “ Patton stutters, embarrassed and not able to meet Logan’s eyes. Virgil sighs.

“Let’s just get out of here. We all have a lot to think about, apparently.” Roman clicks his tongue but doesn’t argue. Patton nods and stares at the ground. “Hope you have a nice break, Lo. See ya.”

“That is the plan. Please leave now,” is all Logan says before turning away and going back to his book. Janus claps his hands together, gathering the attention of the others.

“Follow me, there is a shortcut out of here.”

“Let me guess, it only works one way?” Roman huffs, his voice still quieter than he’d like. The effect would likely only disappear once he’s out of Remus’ territory.

“Very clever, my prince,” Janus says and claps his hands again, this time in mock applause. “100 points for Gryffindor.” Roman glares at him but even he has lost the will to continue their arguments.

The group makes their way back in silence, through the jungle, down a hidden elevator off to the right of the gallery, out a side door of the building and back towards the mindscape. Patton is the only one who glances back towards Logan before he is obscured by the foliage of the jungle, but the logical side is already back on the chaise longue, drinking his still hot beverage.

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

Due to the sounds still being muted, Logan could clearly hear the ‘ding’ of the elevator, signaling the departure of the others. With a sigh he puts the book down that he had only pretended to read. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes tiredly. What an ordeal this has been. After setting his glasses back in place, he takes another sip of his tea – which never cools thanks to Remus’ powers. Speaking off, wet slapping sounds reverberate through the air as the Duke makes his way over to Logan, dripping wet from his impromptu bathing session.

“So, how is Bruce?”

“Fine! He tried to bite my leg off, but he only got a few scraps of flesh!”

“Are you going to heal it or do you want me to bandage it?” Remus grins and with a snap he removes his damaged pants, at least from mid-thigh down. He knows Logan’s comfort zones and nudity wasn’t one of them. At least not yet. The logical side sighs as he summons a first aid kit. “Why am I not surprised?”

“’Cause you know I like it when you bondage me!”

“You mean ‘bandage me’, correct?”

“I know what I said.” Logan rolls his eyes and starts examining and dressing Remus’ wounds which, while bleeding, were all pretty superficial. For a few moments, he worked in silence, but as usual with Remus around, that didn’t last long.

“Felt good, right?”

“I do not know what you are referring to.”

“Pff, don’t bullshit me, Lolo. You know exactly what I mean.”

“Fine, but I do not wish to comment on whether I found it satisfactory or not.”

“You can be such a prude.”

“That may very well be, but I do not see how that relates to our topic.”

“Do you wanna talk about it or not?”

“I am… unsure.” Logan finishes dressing the last wound, cleans the kit up before vanishing it away. Then he sits next to Remus with a sigh. “I do feel a bit better, having said what needed to be said but I also feel like I was too harsh with them.” Remus hums a moment before answering.

“Nah, I think they needed to hear it, ‘specially Daddy-o. He’s been treating not only you but Virgin as well like kids and he needs to stop or you’ll never get anywhere. Breaking out of your mold is exactly what you need, and they need to accept that.” Logan nods along but doesn’t look all that convinced.

“I am aware, but it still feels” – he grimaces at the word – “weird. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“And that’s fine, Specs! You only just accepted that you have feelings, it’s gonna take a bit to figure them out. And dear Tomathy is in a weird place at the moment anyway, so it’s double confusing.”

“I am exhausted.”

“No wonder. Wanna take a nap?”

“Are you going to dry off first?”

“Ugh, fine. But only for you, Nerdy Wolverine!”

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Just Coping

Reiner Braun x femme!crush!Reader

word count: 2406

summary: y/n’s mirror breaks while Reiner hears her crying, and Reiner is on damage control. emotional support ensues. angst and fluff.

a/n: I relapsed a week or so back, so this is my therapy writing. I was abused by my biodad as a child and this contains some irl examples of my feelings and experiences. Given that it’s pretty personal for me and lots of tears and vulnerability went into this, please keep feedback positive, respectful and constructive.

tw: mentions of abuse, assumed self-harm, depression, self-hatred, self-isolation

I can hear y/n sobbing again. Is that all she does now? Being a soldier is supposed to make you tough. Granted, I’m not any better. I knock lightly on the door. She must’ve covered her mouth, because her cries sound a little muffled, though the volume is still there for the most part. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quieter.” She calls. Suddenly I hear glass shatter and a shriek.

I quickly push the door open, and find y/n in her bathroom, standing with her legs against the tub, trying not to step in the broken glass. Her mirror somehow fell off its’ hinges despite being newly installed. I’ll have to report the renovation error. “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to be polite even though the direction of the question could provide two very different answers.

She looks down and whimpers, “I’m sorry.” Since I’m wearing boots, I trudge over through the mess, the crunch of the glass almost sounding like that of snow. “It’s alright. Let me carry you out of the room?” She nods in understanding, and I sweep y/n up bridal style, placing her on the carpet. I grab the standard broom and dustpan behind every door and start sweeping. “So, mind telling me what those other noises were about?” I ask, and hear her footsteps and the creaking of the door closing, the handle clicking into place.

“You would think it’s stupid.” Y/n says. I can tell she’s trying not to start crying again.

“I think you think I would think that, but I still would like to hear it.” I push. “You’ve been crying every day at this point. You’ve been missing from our group for so long that Porco stopped being an asshole to me. It worries me.”

She sniffs. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Well, I care about you, so I’m going to worry anyway. It’s kind of my job,” I state, “As your friend, and as your superior. I need you around, no matter which role I’m playing.” I deposit the swept up shards into the waste bin, put the tools away and cross my arms, leaning against the door frame in wait.

“I-“ She starts, then pauses, taking a deep breath. She looks up at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. A fruitless endeavor, really - sorrow is a wild river, flowing of its’ own accord, without regard for fragility of mind - she squeezes her eyes shut as if to dam the water, keep it from overflowing. “I’m not trying to cry, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize.”

“Sorry, I just- I mean- um.” She fidgets, rubbing the inside of her wrist awkwardly. I notice faint scratches. My stomach flips, and I reach out to grab her hand before she can hide it.

“What is this?” I ask, already knowing the answer. I feel my throat tightening, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. “Why would you do this to yourself? Do you have any idea how many people care about you? Do you have any sense of self-preservation? I- what?”

She’s murmuring something quietly, the tears she tried to trap spilling down her face like rain on a windowpane. She speaks up, just a whisper louder than she was before. “P-p-please l-let go of me.” I realize I’m squeezing her hand and let go, snatching my arms back and stuffing them in my pockets. Why am I so angry? That’s not the kind of person I’m supposed to be. Who am I supposed to be?

Y/n gasps, the sadness too much for tears alone. She starts shaking. “I’m sorry, I just- when I look in the mirror every day, I- I hate myself. I l-ook like him, inside and out, and, and I see-“ She swallows as if she’s trying not to drown and got water in her mouth. “I see what he did to me. I didn’t-“ She looks down. “I didn’t do that to myself, I-“ Another gasp, like she’s struggling to breathe. “It was done to me. When I was in trouble. So were the other marks. Not that I ever got to know what I did wrong.”

So stupid of me. Why did I just assume? Is it just because of my own ideas? God, this is why everybody thinks I’m selfish. “Other marks? He? Who is he? Is he still around?” I ask.

She sits on her bed, tucking her legs beneath her and hugging her knees, making herself visibly small. A whisper: “My dad.” The two words sting like white-hot iron. The gears are spinning in my head - how to find him, how to make him feel the pain his actions caused and then some for good measure. She must notice, because she says, “Please don’t do anything. It’ll just come back around to me.” The fog in my mind clears when I see her scooting away from me, physically distancing herself from my anger. I sigh, calming my violent thoughts.

I climb onto the bed, crawl toward y/n, and wrap her up in the biggest hug I can manage. Partially to comfort her, partially so she doesn’t see my face while hers is buried in my chest. “I am so sorry,” I say. “For what happened to you, about your mirror, and for getting angry. That’s not helpful to you right now.” I can feel her sobbing quietly into my shirt, the tears making it wet. “None of this is your fault.”

Her voice is muffled, but I can make out: “How can I possibly be good? How can I love myself? How can I not hate everything I see when all I see in that stupid, broken mirror is him, and everything he did to me? Why did he do it? What did I do wrong?”

I sigh, holding in the tears belonging to my own eyes. “Because you’re not him. Even if you look like him, that doesn’t mean you did what he did. You’re so kind, y/n, you’re too kind to even let anybody worry about you. You have so many friends and comrades who respect you, respect your integrity, your thoughtfulness, your contributions to not just the mission but to the entire world. Even if you don’t get a fancy plaque or title for it, you stay late, you do extra, you take the time to do your homework when you have an idea, and people look to you for leadership. You make the unit a family, not just an army. You’re more of a warrior than I am, y/n. You fight, every day, to overcome something so huge, and somehow you still have enough left in you to fight a couple other battles for our people, and for humankind. And you do it for all the right reasons. I envy you. I may be a warrior, but you’re a commander, a ruler, an Emperor, yet for some reason, all you want to do is help other people.” I pause, taking a breath. “He did what he did because he, a small minded, selfish excuse for a man, saw something in you that he knows he will never have for himself. That thing is your heart, your spirit, your character. It attracts all kinds of people to you, and he wanted to break your spirit, because he knew he would always be lonely and miserable. You are a good person, with a good heart, and there is nothing you did that places any blame on your shoulders. You were a child, and he was an adult who made choices of his own accord, and he will suffer the consequences of those choices by never feeling your warmth, never feeling your love.”

She looks up at me, shakily raising one of her hands to touch my cheek. Her fingers feel like the sun, dancing on my skin. She really is light, heating everything she touches. I want to close my eyes, lean into her touch, but her e/c eyes bore into mine, sharing this moment with me in its’ fullness. “Thank you.” Y/n says. “I-I don’t know if I can believe everything you said yet, but I want to try. And thank you for being a good friend.” She looks away and lowers her hand, doubt filling her features with lines. I immediately wish it was back where she had it, but I know this isn’t about me right now. She needs a friend. “I just wish I didn’t have to look like him. After he’s done such ugly things-“ A quick glance at her wrist- “I can’t help but feel...” She trails off, burrowing deeper into my embrace.

On cue, I hold her tighter. “Well. I don’t know how much help it is for me to say it, but when I look at you, all I see is you. You truly are beautiful, and no matter the marks he left on you, his efforts will never hide that beauty. I see a person who can gentle any horse, can make any jerk nice-“

She laughs, “Don’t talk about Porco like that!”

“-And you make the people around you better people. You don’t need a Titan form to be powerful. You already are.” I smile. I’m pretty sure Porco likes her, otherwise he wouldn’t mind his manners and his attitude around her. Something stirs in me - what is that? Jealousy? Or just the usual hatred? Whatever. Doesn’t matter right now. “I just wish you could see you through my eyes. You’d realize why everyone cares so much. So, stop keeping your problems to yourself, we’re called your friends for a reason.” I order.

Her face gets a little red. “Oh. Right. I just... didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“Bother everyone. You owe yourself that much.” I say, getting up after giving her one more squeeze. “Will you be coming to dinner later? No one’s seen you in public for a week.”

She looks at her feet. “I probably should, just so everyone thinks I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to be okay, you know,” I respond, “Just alive, so we can be of help. If you do come, I promise I’ll be nice to Porco. Also, Pieck has been asking about you.”

She smiles. “I do miss Pieck. And Porco. And I missed you, too, Reiner.” Something flutters inside my chest at hearing my name on her on her lips. “But, um. I’m just curious.” She says.

“Hm?” I prompt, giving her my full attention.

“How did you know what to say?” She asks.

I shrug. “I didn’t really know, I just... went with what I would want someone to say to me. I... I can kind of relate. In a way.” I turn the doorknob, but before the door opens, I hear her climb off her bed, rising to her feet. I wait.

“Reiner, I-“ Silence. Her feet pad across the floor, and I feel her arms wrap around me. I let go of the knob and turn to hug her back. “I really appreciate you,” She says quietly. “I’ll come to dinner, if that’s what you want.”

I say, “It’s what everyone wants, but yes, I admittedly, specifically, am hoping you will feel okay enough to show up. Plus, I don’t think staying alone in your room is super healthy.”

“It’s not so lonely when you come to visit.” She says to the buttons of my shirt.

“Perhaps I’ll visit more often, then.” I smile. “Just to check in, of course.” She nods her head and releases me, even though I wish she could’ve held me for just an eternity longer. She really does have healing hugs. I smile one last time, then make my exit, closing the door quietly behind me.

I sigh, the usual tension I feel missing from my shoulders. Even if I didn’t say much, opening up even a tiny bit about my feelings felt... nice. Maybe I’ll start visiting y/n instead of sitting alone in my sadness. She has a way of making me feel better, even when she isn’t trying. And she said she appreciates me! That makes one person, at least. I don’t let the smile I feel ghosting my lips stay for long, but it lingers a few seconds while I head down the hallway to the main corridor.

[zodiacrant]

10th House and Daddy issues  (This is also applicable to any father like figures in your life not only your biological one. It also sheds some light on what would you be like as a father/father-figure)

 ✤ Aries in 10th house ✤

✤You and your father have a hot and intense relationship. There’s is such a difference in power where your father implemented their dominance and rules over you, creating an unbalanced relationship. They have a tendency to one up you and be competitive over the simplest of things, creating a wedge very early on. 

✤Your daddy issues played with your self confidence. You’re unsure of yourself and your decisions, often going along with it just to avoid conflict . You have a fear of loud noise and screaming, and feel very uncomfortable around others.

✤As a father figure you’re strict and upfront. Growing up with a no-nonsense father made you knowledgeable of both sides and any tactics your kids could use. Cause you been there, you’ve done that. However, you won’t repeat your fathers mistakes and would allow your kids to have their time to shine and enjoy life.

✤You’re into romantic daddies that exude confidence effortlessly rather than force it. Love to travel, preferably works in a high risk job or even can be in the mafia so you can live that godfather fantasy.

✤ Taurus in 10th house ✤

✤Your father was very strong willed, stern and stubborn. You two had a hard time when having any conversation. Disagreeing leads to an argument and they had to have the last word. No word is above theirs.

✤Your daddy issues made you a conformist. You approve of others ,even if you disagree, and keep your true opinion to yourself. You doubt your capabilities, work, undermine your contributions and believe that your thoughts are wrong or irrelevant.

✤As a father figure you’re stern but kind. Your time with your father taught you how to listen and now it’s time to talk. You will make a clear set of things that have to go your way but allow your kids to have a say when it comes to other things. You will be conflicted and get scared of imaging your father so you gotta find a balance in there.

✤You’re into daddies that treat you like the king/queen that you’re. Clothes, food, mansions, yacht, flying around the world. You want someone give you what your father never did. Very Lana Del Rey.

✤ Gemini in 10th house ✤

✤Your father was very childish and immature, possibly having little to no respect for anyone. They’re the father and they can do whatever they want. They didn’t mind their business and were always in yours, violating your privacy made you a very sneaky person and a big time liar. They would sit around while you’re with your friends, making fun of, embarrassing you, humiliating you all at your own expense and to please their tiny fragile ego.

✤Your daddy issues developed a hate for childlike behavior and immaturity. You’re intolerant to pranks, roasts and other unsavory acts. You’re quick to take it personally.

✤As a father figure you’re a vicious protector. No one can come to your kid with that playground bullshit. You’re quick to shut it down. Your children grow very dependent on you emotionally, rendering them immature in some ways. 

✤You’re into a smart daddy, very career man, educated and highly knowledgeable. Someone that can take you to the world wonders rather than just talk about then, a person of their words and keep promises. They highly stimulate you, Intellectually of course.

✤ Cancer in 10th house ✤

✤Your father enforced their ideals and beliefs on you. You were not allowed to do anything without them approving of it first. Friends, clothes, video games, social media, music and even food, they had the say on what’s comes and goes. 

✤Your daddy issues made you a rebel. You go against any rules, and don’t like to be told what to do, you like to be shocking and be controversial. Think religious girl gone wild, like Madonna or Katy Perry.

✤As a father figure you cherish your kids for who they are and give them the liberty of being their own person. The down side is that your kids have little respect for rules and others wishes and personal space. Disciplining them is especially difficult since they do as they please with no regards cause “I am my own person and I do as I please.”

✤You’re in love with daddies with power that are very macho and masculine. Police officers and criminals are a big part of the fantasy. Being with a powerful daddy makes you feel feminine and like a whole woman.

✤ Leo in 10th house ✤

✤Your father was an unbearable self centered overlord. They took good care of themselves but gave just the bare minimum to you. They drove good cars, slept on a good mattress, flied first class and wore designer clothes. You on the other hand took public transport or drove an old used car, slept on their old jacked up mattress, was lucky to even get on the trip and wore the same old clothes. 

✤Your daddy issues made you self sufficient. Your independence made relationships seem pointless, you were provided everything to yourself so no one compared. People are expandable so they have to prove their worth and purpose. 

✤Being a father figure you taught your children how to be on their own. They cleaned after themselves and were responsible for themselves, as much as a child can. You gave them tough love when needed but also gave them the freedom of learning and living their life to the fullest. Your motto is “when you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready”.

✤You’re into dominating and different power dynamics. Pool boy, the Gardner, a coach, a secretary, you like to dominate and have sex with a young daddy. Meow cougar.

✤ Virgo in 10th house ✤

✤Your father had set up relentless standards that were basically impossible to achieve. Being good was expected and a most, but every fall or second place made all those achievements disappear. Completely destroying your self-esteem.

✤Your daddy issues made you a perfectionist that is hard to please. Everything has to be a certain way or else it’s all going to the trash and in vain. Your father’s disappointed words play on a loop in your made. To the world you’re the best of the best, but on the inside you’re your own worst critique and enemy.

✤As a father figure you’re your kids biggest supporter. You don’t only give them advice but teach them the tools to be great at solving problems.You can be at times over critical with how things should be done but you’re not opposed to your children correcting you or doing it their on way. Sometimes.

✤You want a daddy who got it all. The wealth, the prestige, the brains and the career. You want someone that will not only fulfill your physical needs but also give something priceless, knowledge and know-how.

✤ Libra in 10th house ✤

✤Your father was pushover that cared more about others opinions over your own happiness and individuality. He was easily played by others and didn’t defend you. He isn’t around when you need him and is very dependent on others. 

✤Your daddy issues made you an independent go getter. You’re socially skilled thanks to years of raising yourself on how to dodge uncalled for comments from family members, and have a good balance between giving people a second chance and stand in your ground.

✤As a father figure you’re a fair minded person that treats every child specifically based on how they’re and their needs. You value honesty and doing what is right, you teach your kids to learn from their mistakes. That means they will be given a second chance as well as suffer the consequences of their actions.

✤You’re into cheesy romantic things, you love to be pampered and be taken care of your. That means daddy got to have a good bank accounts, since wine, diner, flowers and diamonds don’t come cheap and so does you.

✤ Scorpio in 10th house ✤  

✤Your father was very critical of you and had difficult expectations for you. They asserted themselves over you by meddling all aspects of your life to make you “theirs” forever.

✤Your daddy issues made you a cut-throat straight up over achiever. An everyday politicians, you know how to manipulate and change minds. Growing up with your father made you strong willed and assertive, no one can get through your icy thick walls.

✤As a father figure you give what was not given to you as a child, freedom and no expectations. You raise your children to be smart, strong and capable humans that won’t need others.

✤Your daddy issues made yearn for love and affection. Living a love story is something no one would guess that you’re looking for, but that’s because they don’t know you.

✤ Sagittarius in 10th house ✤       

✤Your father inconsistent in your life. One minute they’re  cold, the other they’re hot, first it’s left and then it’s right. Living with your father was crazy to say the least. Their inconsistency made it difficult feel safe or stable in anything.

✤Your daddy issues reflected badly on your behavior. Early on you were flaky, late, lazy and felt abandoned from all those times your father forgot and wasn’t there. Then the cycle switch and you start taking your life very seriously, the idea of being your father or seeing their behavior in other boiled you. You’re a straight shooter that stuck to their guns no matter what.

✤As a father figure, you try to always be there for your kids. You want to make memories with them and document everything so those memories will live forever. It is very hard for you to get over your father but making up with your kids help.

✤You’re into adventures daddies that are not afraid to take risks and live life to it’s fullest. You love making memories, especially if it’s in a foreign country at night where anythings feels possible.

✤ Capricorn in 10th house ✤

✤Your father was a nit picky authoritarian that meddled with all aspects of your life. For the most past of your childhood you were not to be exposed to anything they disagreed with and you were very sheltered. Your teen years were weird and awkward since the way they brought you up made them the only person that was there and had any effect on you.

✤Your daddy issues rendered you incapable of holding social interaction and lacking real knowledge of the world. You emerged in your young adult years as a child again, as if you truly started to live from the moment you left your father behind.

✤As a father figure you’re precise and attentive. You remember a lot about your kids, and you gave them all that they needed physically and emotionally. Because of the way you were brought up, you can get overly protective and paranoid over their safety and who they’re with. Although you can be suffocating to them, no one can deny that you raised your children to be well educated and wholesome people.

✤Your daddy issues made you crave someone that holds a powerful or influential position. Politicians and religious figures make a big part of the sexual fantasy. Reliving being dominated by someone like that is a secret that you keep that you will never tell.

✤ Aquarius in 10th house ✤

✤Your father was more focused on their work and external affairs. You felt abandoned and unheard growing up, where your issues were not as important and that you should be grateful for what you have.

✤Your daddy issues made crave attention and being wanted. You feel angered when unheard and would do anything so people would like you. Growing up with your father, however, made you value your life goals and passions.

✤As a father figure you’re a mentor and teacher. You teach your kids through actions and show them their true potential and strength. Helping them grow into a great human being is more important than being successful.

✤You’re into an easy going daddy that showers you with all the attention you crave. Someone that’ll spoon you but also knows how to use non physical communications. You want someone that can take you far away.

✤ Pisces in 10th house ✤

✤Your father undermined your work and treated you like a child. There was never true praise and they didn’t take you seriously, making you feel unworthy and incapable. Growing up, they always took your comments, opinions, and thoughts as a cute little from their baby that doesn’t know better.

✤Your daddy issues made you dependent and lazy. You’re emotionally immature and can’t handle the pressure of everyday life. You don’t give yourself credit for the work you’ve done and on bad day you expect others to do the work for you, whether it’s to make you feel better or run a simple errand, dependency, work and individuality are things you will always struggle with.  

✤As a father figure you’re pushover. You give your kids all the attention and things they want as a way to fulfill your deprived child self.This may grow into a problem though, since living vicariously through your kids never works out well.

✤You want a daddy that will baby you and make you feel like the princess/prince that you always dreamed to be. They’ll give you the fairy tale fantasy you used read, a romance just like in the movies and gives you the type of love you always hear about in songs but never saw in real life.

[raelly-writing]

The Lord of Embers

Since I started in Limsa, the Ifrit questline is the first time Thancred and my WoL really interacts and work together, so I wanted to write something for that first impression sort of stuff.

---

The merciless midday sun bore down upon the land, and only a mild breeze stirred the dry air, barely managing to keep it from feeling too stifling.

For all his years in the region, Thancred felt grateful for the shade of the solitary tree that clung to the rocky slope. Leaning against its trunk, he kept one eye on the Amalj'aa encampment further up the ravine, while scanning the lands below, seeking for any solitary figures moving across the flat plane in his direction.

Hopefully the latest addition to their merry band wasn’t completely incapable of following the directions he’d left with the alderman.

Fishing out his water flask, Thancred took a small mouthful to wet his throat. Even for Thanalan, the heat was near unbearable. If he drew Viana’s ire for making her trekk out here for what was a task he could easily do himself, then so be it - he wanted to see for himself how capable this mercenary from Limsa was.

Not that he doubted Y’shtola’s estimation of her abilities - Hells, by his dear colleague’s strict standards, her praise had been positively glowing.

Still, while he’d had no cause for complaints for her conduct so far, his curiosity remained piqued. Even if Y’hstola hadn’t informed them that their new recruit was training with the marauders’ guild, it’d been plain to him from the moment she had stepped into the solar, just from the way she moved, that she didn’t carry that axe just for show.

Just then a dark shape moving amidst the low brush of the lands below caught his attention. Thancred straightened up a little, instantly on the alert. The figure was too small to be one of the beastmen, and there wasn’t much reason for anyone to be heading this way towards the Amalj’aa’s encampment. So, either it was Viana following his directions, or it was another spoken in league with the beastmen.

Fishing out his small spyglass from his bag, he focused onto the figure. Though the armoured figure stayed off the well-trodden path the Amalj’aa utilised, it was easy to pick out their dark red hair and the great axe on their back.

“Well, well, she did not get lost at least,” Thancred mused to himself as he folded up his spyglass. He should be easy enough to spot from her angle of approach, but if needed to, he’d leave the shade of the tree and meet her at lower ground.

But it soon enough became clear that she’d seen him, and Thancred leaned back against the tree once more to wait for her, his eyes locked on the Amalj’aa encampment and ears trained on the sounds of rocks sliding that slowly grew louder. Seven Hells, he didn’t envy her wearing that armour out in this heat. But she was quieter in her approach than he had expected.

Turning his head, Thancred offered her a welcoming smile when she crested the edge of the slope. “Ah, there you are, Viana,” he greeted her. “So good of you to come!”

Viana gave him a curt nod and joined him under the shade of the tree. Wisps of hair had escaped the bun she’d gathered it up in, but other than a mild flush to her cheeks she seemed fairly unbothered by the trek across the plains. “Apologies, didn’t mean to leave you waiting.”

“No harm done,” he replied with a shrug and held out his water flask to her but she shook her head and unhooked her own from her belt. Well, perhaps he should’ve expected a Highlander to know to be prepared for hot weather.

“Did you hear about Sister Ourcen before you left?” she asked before taking a sip from her flask.

Thancred kept his face neutral as he replied, despite the small pang of guilt. “Indeed, I’ve heard all about good Sister Ourcen. Isembard said her wounds were serious. It would seem my suspicions about the poor rose were misplaced.”

Not for the first time in the past few days, he was on the receiving end of a cool and an appraising look. But rather than saying anything, she merely gave him a silent nod and took another sip from her bottle.

Taking the measure of one's comrades was probably something of a useful skill in the mercenary field, but at the back of his mind Thancred had the distinct feeling that he came up short to whatever expectations she had of him. Oh well, he’d play the fool for a while longer still. “But, onto why I asked you to meet me out here,” he spoke casually. “False though they were, perhaps my suspicions were not entirely without merit. Whilst following Sister Ourcen near the Golden Bazaar, a band of Amalj’aa caught my eye.”

He gestured towards the encampment. “And I tracked them as far as here, but…” He slipped on a charming, apologetic smile as easily as one might put on a well-worn glove. “Well, let us just say that I would much prefer to keep my distance and remain here.” He watched her eyes narrow ever so slightly, clearly anticipating his next sentence. “This, of course, brings me to why I requested you, dear Viana. Would you be so kind as to take a look inside?”

There was a flash of something sharp in her expression, a subtle tightening of her brow and flexing of her jaw, before she exhaled in a slow and controlled manner, “As you wish.” It was the polite, well-practised tone of someone used to not making her annoyance with a request too obvious.

Disregarding the feeling that he was poking a bear with a stick, Thancred put his hand on his hip and tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. “Is aught amiss, my dear?”

While making her way past him towards the slope down into the ravine, Viana hooked her water flask back onto her belt, and loosened her axe from its holster on her back, taking the hefty weapon in one hand. “Nay,” she replied over her shoulder. “Merely trying to figure out if there’s more to you than just a pretty face and clever tongue.”

Thancred couldn’t help but chuckle. “Pretty am I?”

But she’d already begun to jump and slide her way down to the encampment below.

----

The distant sounds of soldiers groaning in pain bore down on Thancred’s shoulders as he made his way out of Camp Drybone’s inn and into the mercifully cooling evening air, with a tray of simple breads and pitcher of water in hand. He did not look forward to reporting to Raubahn how things had gone. Luckily, they had suffered minimal losses on their hasty rescue mission at the Amalj’aa’s inner sanctum.

But there were those who still drew breath who were all but walking dead.

Thancred grit his teeth, his eyes searching for the one person who had somehow escaped the primal’s influence. After a moment, he spotted Viana perched atop some crates in a solitary corner. There were a few bandages wrapped around her arms, but scrapes, singed hair and minor burns had thankfully been the worst of her injuries and from what he could see, they did not seem to hinder her much as she gave her weapon and armour a critical look-over.

“Ah, Viana, there you are!”

At the sound of his voice, she immediately looked up. Despite the attentive edge to her gaze - the look of someone expecting orders to move and continue onward, that rest could wait for later - he could tell that she was tired.

“Come now, at ease, you’ve more than earned a rest, I’d say.” He held up the pitcher and tray in his hands, a couple of simple clay mugs balanced amidst the bread rolls. “Some refreshments.”

Her body language relaxed a little, and she pushed together her gear before moving to the side, making space for him where she had been sitting.

Thancred set down the pitcher and tray by her side, before he with a long exhale sank down on the crate. It’d been a long day, both physically and emotionally.

“You alright?” Viana asked just loudly enough to be heard over the noise of the people milling about camp Drybone.

Thancred shot her an easy, disarming smile as he poured up some water. “Flattered as I am about your concern, there’s no need to fret, my dear,” he replied while offering her the mug. “Despite the rather diligent attempts of the Amalj’aa zealots, I’m quite unscathed.”

Viana sighed, the tilt of her head giving him the impression that she’d only just resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she gave him a weary, contemplating look as she accepted the mug from him. “Good to hear.”

“Well, my contributions to this mission have been sorely lacking,” he responded while helping himself to a piece of bread, “so it seemed the least I could do.” He felt the weight of her gaze on him, but before she had the chance to reply, he continued. “Speaking of, I do believe I was in the process of apologizing. I do hope you can forgive me.”

“For what? There’s nothing you did wrong.”

Thancred huffed out a laugh that sounded more tired than he would have liked. “That’s kind of you,” he replied, managing a casual, carefree tone, while he tore off a piece of bread. “But there’s no denying that I arrived too late to be of any use… to you or the abductees.” A heavy silence followed his words. Absently, he popped the chunk of bread into his mouth but barely registered the taste of it as he chewed slowly. The heaviness on his shoulders grew deeper. If only he’d been faster. Stronger. More alert.

It was never enough. He was never enough. And people always died because of it. The bread tasted ashen in his mouth as he slowly ate piece after piece.

“But you tried.”

To his surprise, the firm, guarded edge was gone from her voice.

When he looked at her, he expected it to just have been a momentary slip, but gone was the reserved professional facade. In its stead was perhaps not the relaxed demeanour he might have expected from a friend, but there was an earnest warmth to her gaze when she looked at him.

“Don’t get me wrong, it was a shite situation,” Viana continued with a brief, wry smile, “And it would’ve been the practical thing to just write us all off as an unfortunate loss and not risk any more lives.” She paused, briefly, and he caught the flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “But you mounted a rescue anyway.” She shrugged and looked back out over Camp Drybone. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did, I’d probably have survived Ifrit only to get skewered on some Amalj’aa’s spear while trying to get out of there.”

At the back of his mind, he noted how frankly she spoke of her own potential demise, with not a hint of mirth to soften her words. The reassuring words did nothing to soothe the choking sense of failure lingering in his chest. If he had been faster to mobilize a rescue force, he might have been able to reach them before they’d even been brought before Ifrit to start with. Despite his internal turmoil, Thancred mustered a disarming smile and winked at her, “Of course I did, I’d hardly leave a fair lady as yourself to her demise!”

This time, Viana did roll her eyes and sigh, but there was the hint of a smile on her lips. “Suppose I should thank you for risking a scratch to mar that face of yours,” she drawled, then gave him a side look. “Thank you, Thancred.”

The earnest, somber tone made his chest feel tight. Thancred swallowed and was a little grateful that a sudden commotion between a couple of residents of Drybone gave him an excuse to look away from her. He watched as the two men were quickly shushed and led away by a guard, before things escalated. Try as he might, his smart replies didn’t come as easily to his far too dry tongue. “Well, at any rate, I should have accompanied you to the ambush site,” he murmured.

“For what? It was a simple mission, you had your own tasks to see to and couldn’t have known there was a mole amongst the Flames.” He opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off, her voice growing rough with poorly contained bitterness that echoed what he himself felt about the situation. “And if you had been present, you would have risked ending up tempered as well and about to be mercy-killed with the rest of the soldiers.”

His stomach clenched uncomfortably at the thought all while his overactive mind was constructing a dozen what-if scenarios where he successfully turned the tide at the ambush, or slipped away unseen to swiftly return with reinforcements before the prisoners even set foot within the Amalj’aa’s stronghold.

A multitude of alternate realities where a score of good men and women were free to return home safely to their families tonight. But wish as he might, there was nothing to do but to face the harsh reality before him, once more.  “You know of the unavoidable fate of those put under a primal’s thrall then,” he remarked matter of factly.

Viana made a low noise of acknowledgment. “I’ve been around long enough to have heard the tales,” she replied grimly. “In Limsa, they often speak of the Company of Heroes’ victory against the Leviathan.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her cross her arms, and he could all but picture the mournful frown on her face when she continued, “I wish I could have somehow saved the others, maybe lent them whatever power it is that kept me from falling under Ifrit’s control.”

With a quiet hum of agreement, Thancred picked at the forgotten remains of the bread in his hand, feeling the slight brush of the crumbs that fell to the ground. “Well, loathe as I am to say it, there’s naught we can do for them now, but to give them a swift, merciful end,” he said. Taking a deep, fortifying breath he pushed away those dark, churning emotions into the deepest recesses of his mind. Surprising as it were, he’d rather not risk losing this sudden favourable improvement of his standing with her. Smiling, he met her gaze. “And I dare say there’s still some reasons to rejoice this day.”

Curiosity and confusion flickered across her features as she frowned at him.

Thancred made a gesture that was the faint echo of a bow as he inclined his head, bread still clutched in his hand. “Ifrit is slain, and by your hand no less. That, my dear, is the deed of no ordinary individual.” He leaned back with a satisfied look on his face, almost relieved to slip back into the theatrics of this well-worn cover persona of his. “Not that I ever thought you were ordinary,” he finished with a dramatic wave of his hand, like he was presenting her some magnificent work of art, rather than waving about the sorry remains of a piece of bread.

Viana raised an eyebrow, the doubt clear in her eyes, and snorted. “You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

“What can I say? My fine eye for talent remains undimmed.”

“Mhm, and would that be why you didn’t just investigate that Amalj’aa encampment yourself?”

Inclining his head, he gave her the placating, pleading look of a man begging for forgiveness. “Why, I hardly had the pleasure of fighting at your side as lady Y’shtola did. You can’t fault me for wishing to see your prowess with his own two eyes, surely.”

She huffed out a short laugh. “Could have just asked me to slay a beast, rather than doing all the theatrics.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that, my dear?” he retorted. “Anyhow, on the topic of your splendid victory; I dare say Minfilia will be proud beyond all reckoning when she hears of your deeds.” With that, he rose up from the crate, letting the rest of the bread fall back onto the tray. He’d barely eaten a quarter of the already modest roll. “I trust you shan’t object to my bearing the tidings to her. That way I can claim to have contributed something to this mission,” he continued and dipped into an elegant bow, then busied himself with straightening his clothes. “You, meanwhile, have earned yourself a rest. Take some time to relax, and return to the Waking Sands when you are good and ready.” He glanced up at her and gave her a wink. “Just don’t take too long, will you? The realm’s problems won’t solve themselves.”

Viana was giving him a barely concealed look of exasperation, clearly waiting impatiently for him to finish talking. “Seven hells Thancred, sit down. You’ve barely eaten, nor drank anything.”

Thancred paused, a bit taken back by the firm tone of her voice that was a rather disconcerting reminder of Y’shtola when she got in a particularly stubborn mood. “As much as I would love to-” He interrupted himself when she tilted her head to the side and the crease between her brows deepened a fraction.

“Really, you’ll be of no use to Minfilia if you collapse on her doorstep due to dehydration.”

HIs posture tensed. He felt torn between the guilt that spurred him onwards and that well-honed, professional instinct to dig deeper for more information - the urge to seek out the next task and try to succeed there instead to make up for this failure fighting the curiosity that bid him to stay and see what else he could learn about her. Another, more logical side that he ignored far too often, saw the wisdom in her words. He was hungry and the back of his throat still felt dry with dust and ash. Thancred swallowed thickly, which did nothing to alleviate the sensation. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, surely? Just long enough to fill his belly and quench his thirst. “Very well,” he finally relented with a charming smile. “It’d be rather ungentlemanly of me to leave a lady to dine on her own, after all.”

Viana huffed out that weary laugh once more, its dryness betrayed by the hint of amusement in her eyes and faint smile on her lips. “Aw Hells, maybe I made a mistake,” she drawled.

“Ah, how you wound me, my dear,” he replied as he settled back down onto the crate. “Many a fair maiden can vouch that I am a most entertaining dinner companion.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all.”

[hobiiwan]

tethered • o.k

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x mechanic!reader

summary: obi-wan returns after too long spent on the battlefield, away from where he’s meant to be

warnings: kinda angsty, alcohol use @ new year’s, fluff mostly

word count: 6k

notes: happy secret santa! @starwarssecretsanta @stars-trash-18 i really hope you like your gift! this is the first time i’ve written anything this long so hopefully it turned out alright! biggest thanks to @lilhawkeye3 for organising this! have a safe holiday, no matter what you celebrate~

If there was one thing you would never understand, it would be why Coruscant was so damned cold. The Galactic City enjoyed warm, balmy weather all year long. The underworld, on the other hand, not so much. The morning chill was the type to seep into your bones, the sort that no amount of layers could shut out, even with the radiators turned to the max. Not that you had much chance to complain, especially not on the days, which were most, spent on a creeper, wrench in hand. 

Working occupies your mind. You easily fall back into the same routine you’ve been following for as long as you can remember—replace, tighten, oil. It doesn’t hurt that it pays, nor the fact that it keeps your mind from drifting. To him.

A client pulls into the garage, speeder releasing a puff of ash-grey smoke. Your eyes linger on the doorway.

--

The underside of the standard speeder became your new sky, replacing the one you didn’t get many chances to see. It was easier not to venture to the upper levels, you learned, knowing the return to the chaos underneath was inevitable. 

Still, you don’t spend years in the lower levels without learning a thing or two. It had its charms which, if you kept your valuables close, could be somewhat appreciated. Not much could be said about the sunrise, but watching the street vendors gradually open shop for the day, the glowing signs relighting after a night and the city waking—the underworld had its moments. 

Though, it’s best not to overlook the obscure corners. The best thing about living in the underworld was the unpredictability. If you’re handy with a blaster and keep your head down, that is. It keeps things entertaining, on the days where you could afford time off. 

Admittedly, a Jedi blasting open your garage door at the asscrack of dawn would definitely equate to ‘unpredictable’.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The man is midway through clambering out of the now-crashed speeder. He turns, only to meet the barrel of your blaster. A shit-eating smirk graces his lips as he brushes the auburn hair out of his eyes and regards you nonchalantly.

“My apologies, miss,” the man says, head lowered in a slight bow, “I must admit, though I do enjoy making an entrance, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

Your eyes scan the man before you. The long, beige robes and the mechanical cylinder hanging at hip-level, clipped to his belt. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise a Jedi, especially when chaos follows. A handsome one, yet a Jedi nonetheless.

Your gaze narrows. “Do you have a reason for crashing into my shop, or is this just more ‘Jedi business’?” The venom laced in your tone is hard to miss. The message is clear - Jedi aren’t taken to well in the underworld.

He huffs, raising a hand to gesture to the steaming, sparking mess laying in the middle of your shop. “I’ve had an accident.”

Your eyes roll without a second thought, “I can see that.” 

“I need transportation to get back to the Galactic City as quickly as possible,” he states, voice overtaken by a firm, well-versed timbre. “Would you happen to offer any of the sort?”

Your arms cross over your chest. There would be nothing more satisfying than throwing out a Jedi to the underworld streets with no way back to the surface. He can walk, for all you care, but fuck. You’re short on funds. 

Your gaze drifts to your own speeder sitting proudly in the corner as you gnaw your lip hesitantly. The mangled mess he’s brought in is a lost cause—that much is certain. Your pit droid confirms this with a series of beeps, orbiting helplessly around the crash. There’s no way he’ll be getting out on that.

Begrudgingly, you stalk over to fetch the keys to your own vehicle. “It’ll cost you,” you grumble, tossing the keys to which the man catches with ease. “If there’s even a hair of a scratch, I’ll throttle you myself, Jedi.”

The man grins triumphantly, and slides into the driver’s seat. You instantly regret your decision when your eyes meet his. “My name is Obi-wan,” he hums, pulling the speeder out of the driveway, “your speeder is in good hands! We’ll be back in no time.”

Those credits better be worth it. 

--

It’s a few days later, when the sensor over your doorway rings out in a chime you’ve memorised by now. Half of your torso is obscured by a banged-up thrust pod, but the droid at your feet is going crazy. 

You hear it before you get to see it, but the spluttering of an engine is unmistakable and you perk up at the prospect of a new repair. That hope, however, is quickly shot out of the sky when you catch sight of the source of the noise.

The grip on the wrench in your hand tightens a noticeable notch as the Jedi brings your speeder to a halt. The layer of painted coating has been chipped away in a long streak along its side, revealing the steel underneath. The navcomp is long gone, a wide, burnt crack singeing across the controls.

Obi-wan grins a sheepish one when your eye twitches, surveying the faulty engine that makes the speeder tilt on its side.

“What am I looking at?” Your voice is disturbingly calm, not even an inkling of what he knows is rage in its purest form to be seen. 

Obi-wan inhales as his gaze flickers to the wrench curled in your fist and chuckles hesitantly, “Your speeder, of course. I did say we’d be back.”

“No,” you snap, wrist raising so the wrench is inches from his chest, “my speeder was alive and well when it left my shop three days ago. So, do tell me, Jedi,” you hiss,  “what have you brought back?”

The man, indifferent to the weapon directed at him, climbs out of the wreck gracefully to stand before you. “Unfortunately, we got into a bit of an accident,” he says, “but you’ll be happy to know your speeder greatly contributed to the capture of a fugitive of the Republic.”  

It takes every fibre in your being to resist the urge to lunge when he nonchalantly reaches up to brush the strand of hair fallen across his forehead. 

“I don’t give a damn about a fugitive,” you seethe, “you owe me a new speeder! And double the credits!” 

Obi-wan’s mouth opens to bargain, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance to negotiate. 

“You know what—triple it!” Your arms cross over your chest and the droid follows suit, ushering the Jedi in the direction of the exit. If looks could kill, Obi-wan Kenobi would be dead three times over in four different galaxies.

He bows his head, gaze sweeping across your garage, “I’m afraid I don’t currently have such funds—”

Your eyes roll in indignation. 

“—perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement?”

The wrench goes flying.

--

The holonews plays distantly in the background while you work, filling up the hollow silence in every nook of your mech shop. Silence is a killer in the underworld; it’s important to let people know there’s someone home—burglars not welcome.

You’re halfway through wiping your hands clean of grease when the blue Twi’lek reporter’s perky demeanor dissolves into a still of a battleground. 

Felucia, the woman says, as more holos of piles upon piles of B-1 droids flash across the screen. Your breath catches in your throat and the air in the garage hangs heavy. That’s good news right? Droids in piles usually mean there aren’t as many troop casualties. There’s no mention of a General either, so you let out a breath of relief.

Celebrating early is a curse, because the reporter’s next words steal the air right out of your lungs.

“We have lost all contact with our journalist on the Felucia front, as last transmissions report a sudden aerial ambush. The fates of the GAR troops remain unknown.”

The report moves onto the next spectacle, but you’ve stopped listening. The holonews is wordlessly shut off, and you turn to working in silence, heart clenching painful in your chest, as if the very same battle droids had wrapped their cold, dead steel handpieces around it. 

The reporter’s words don’t leave you easily. The fates of the GAR troops remain unknown. 

--

Is threatening a Jedi Master a crime? Obi-wan isn’t sure, but he definitely thinks it should be. You’ve made your rage painstakingly clear and Maker, if he had a credit for every threat you spewed, he would have paid you back by now.

It’s late one night when Obi-wan finds himself in the underworld once more. It’s perpetually dark and most people have retired for the night, save the rowdy chaos stemming from the back-street cantinas. 

The neon logo of your mechanic shop emerges as he rounds the corner and he winces at the singe marks on your driveway. He must get around to apologising for that. The sharp smell of paint makes him wrinkle his nose when he walks in, spotting you in the far corner.

“This, here, is R4,” the Jedi says, announcing his arrival, “I suspect she has some loose wiring.”

Obi-wan can’t pretend the way your jaw clenches at the sound of his voice isn’t the least bit amusing. Your turn to face him with an air of annoyance.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Kenobi?” You grumble, and his eyes drift from the bucket of silver paint by your boots, then over your shoulder to the refurbished speeder he had left behind the last time.

“I certainly do,” he hums, hand smoothing over his beard appreciatively, “it looks good as new.”

You scoff, arms crossing over your chest,  “no thanks to you.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” he says, nodding to the astromech hovering at his side, who beeps in greeting, “to repay my debt.” 

The side of your mouth quirks up as you move closer, regarding the droid, “Is this what you call repaying your debt? Giving me more work?” 

Obi-wan’s jaw goes slack, eyebrows raising at the way you and R4 share the same expression, even with one having no facial indicators. Though, he catches himself before the stare you receive from him can be construed as anything other than bewildered. “That was not my intention—” He starts, but you cut him off with a wave and a gratified smirk.

“It was a joke, Obi-wan,” you sigh, leading R4 to the station on the opposite side of the room, leaving the man gaping after you. “Are all Jedi so gullible?”

He huffs and leans against the wall as you do a quick once-over of his droid. You flitter around R4, retrieving all the equipment you need for the impending checks. You look rightfully in your element.

“Were all the mechanics up in the Galactic City unavailable?” You question, eyes briefly flickering up to meet his before returning to unscrewing R4’s bolts. You miss the look Obi-wan shoots the droid who whirs in response. 

“Not necessarily,” he coughs and suddenly, the gears hanging on your wall are the most interesting thing in the world, “I just haven’t gotten around to crashing their prized speeders yet.”

Your gaze narrows when you stand, but the menace is absent this time around. “I’ve replaced some of R4’s older wires. She was close to short-circuiting,” you remind sharply, contrasting your fond patting of R4, “and stars, Kenobi, it wouldn’t kill you to oil her joints once in a while.”

“Order received,” the man bows his head sheepishly, dropping the credits on your counter, “though for R4’s sake, you may consider teaching me how to.” 

You see Obi-wan out, mostly to bid his droid farewell. “Don’t push it, Jedi,” you simper, “I could still cut your brakes.”

He chuckles at that, reaching a hand up to thread through his hair. Obi-wan grins with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, “then I’ll have no choice but to come back to repair it.”

Obi-wan Kenobi—master charmer of the Jedi Order.

--

The roof of your garage makes for a good stargazing spot. You use the term stargazing very loosely. The stars, in this case, are the blinking lights of the speeders hovering in the air. 

It’s certainly not the nicest spot in all of Coruscant, but it’s yours. The whole building is, at that, which is saying something considering you live in the underworld. 

You live close enough to the surface that sitting on your roof gives you a clear enough view of the portal leading to the Galactic City and the minuscule amount of light it brings.  The starships lower and rise through the massive ventilation shaft and you catch yourself hoping to see a familiar one. 

It’s hopeless, obviously, you’re too far away to see anything, anyway. Still, you can’t stop your eyes from flickering to the traffic leading into the underworld.

Maybe this time it’ll be his ship. 

One last look. Your heart sinks. Turning back, you head down the ladder. Alone. 

--

Obi-wan gauges that you don’t despise him as much as you let on about the umpteenth time he visits. 

You regard him with a quirked eyebrow and arms crossed over your chest, your default stance whenever he’s around, which is becoming rather frequent, you notice. 

“You want me to go up to the surface with you?”

The man nods, hands clasped dutifully behind him. “That is, in fact, what I said.” 

He’s dressed, once again, in those beige Jedi robes. His beard’s gotten thicker, you note. It’s been a while. 

“What for?” You question, intrigue piquing as you step closer to Obi-wan. It’s been even longer since you’ve been to the city. You tell yourself it’s because you have no reason to be up there anyway, but the thought lingers. 

“To celebrate,” Obi-wan shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the galaxy, “it’s a new cycle.”

You hum, turning back to rummage through your cabinets, the way you had been doing when he had first arrived. “I’m aware.”

Obi-wan remains silent behind you, but he’s relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as he leans against the wall agreeably. We can’t have that, you think.

“Don’t you have certain Jedi duties to attend to?” you hum, tossing an half-hearted glance over your shoulder, only to find his knowing smirk. Gods, he’s irritating. Yet, you let him be.

“According to the Chancellor, I’ve shaken enough hands for tonight,” he answers and his voice is laced with poorly-masked satisfaction, “my evening is open for meditation.”

“—unless you take me up on my offer, of course.”

You shouldn’t. There’s so much work to be done in the garage, but as you look around, everything’s been taken care of. Sometimes, you’re too efficient at what you do. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to spend the end of this cycle not alone, for once. 

“That depends,” you chide, but Obi-wan sees through it clear as day. He raises a hand to brush over his chin, effectively masking the smile beneath his palm. 

“-I wouldn’t want to keep a Jedi Master from his meditation.”

Hours later, the two of you find yourselves on the viewing deck of a skyscraper. The journey there is a blur, since you spent most of it up to this point marvelling at the city.

It’s so much brighter than you remember.

You can barely tell the time—the sky’s been completely lit up by miles of gleaming lights. The irony is not lost on you—how the Galactic City illuminated is one worthy of the stars while the underworld sees only darkness even on Coruscant’s sunniest days. 

The buildings are denser, packed so tight you could easily cross over into the adjacent balcony. You consider it genuinely for a moment, though pressed so close to Obi-wan’s side, the thought dissolves just as quickly as it comes. 

The viewing deck extends to a cantina, where you squeeze past the bodies pushing against you until you finally reach the bar. 

Obi-wan watches pensively as you fall back against a stool and flag down the bartender. “So, Kenobi,” you swivel around to eye the man who has arrived to hover behind you, “how did a Jedi come to find this place?” 

“Jedi business brings us to all reaches of the galaxy and this place happens to be one of them,” Obi-wan replies simply, as if dangling bait in front of you to ask more.Jedi business, he says.

Nevertheless, you take the bait. “What sort of Jedi business?”

Obi-wan’s eyes widen, taken aback. He’s never had to answer that question before— most people he came across were either Jedi themselves, or correspondents. He’s not sure what he’s even allowed to tell you.

“If you tell me, will you have to kill me?” You jest as he takes a generous gulp of his own drink. You don’t suppose Jedi business to be confidential, though with the current political climate, perhaps it has become just that.

It’s obvious he’s still contemplating your question, but you quickly steer him away from work.

“Where do you hope to be a year from now?” You ask, toying with the glass in hand, pondering your own answer while he does the same. Maker, hopefully not on this forsaken planet any longer.

Sure, you’ve been on Coruscant as long as you can remember and most of it has been spent in the underworld, but it stopped feeling like home even before that.

He hums thoughtfully and takes a sip of his own drink before responding. “Still serving the Order, of course,” he says. Obi-wan pauses and the air stills, as if the words unspoken in his throat have tainted it. 

“—though I fear I sense impending conflict in our future.”

Your brows raise as his lips fall into a grim line. “Oh? Do tell.”

Obi-wan shakes his head, as if doing so will clear the atmosphere of the words he had spoken. Recently, he finds himself saying more than he means to.

“I just hope peace will be kept in our galaxy. But for now, I think we should celebrate a year gone by.” 

A statement you can get behind.

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” you grin, downing a generous swing of (what remains of) your drink. You wince at the burn, but stars, if that isn’t better than anything you’ve had in the underworld. 

Obi-wan chuckles, a sound nearly drowned out by the crowd of cantina patrons. “You drink to everything.” 

You nod, exuberant, before swiping another glass of deep blue liquid off a passing tray. “Cheers!”

Further into the night, your body start to heat up, the pleasant tingles crawling from your fingertips all the way to your chest. 

In the dim lighting of the cantina, the edges of your vision go fuzzy and Obi-wan becomes just a bit more handsome, though it’s unclear how much of that is due to the alcohol. 

The room begins to empty, most people pushing their way out to the balcony as time ticks closer to midnight. 

“Would you like to watch the fireworks? I hear they’re known to be quite beautiful.” Obi-wan offers, gesturing to the gathering mass. 

“I bet they are,” you murmur, chin propped loosely against your palm while your gaze never leaves him. 

Amused, he offers an outstretched hand to help you off the stool that you had settled into so comfortably. He half expects you to slap him away and insist on standing on your own, but you take it instead. 

Your palm finds his after a moment of contemplation, coming to the conclusion that it would not be fun to trip face-first. 

His hand is warm against yours and you really hope he doesn’t feel the way you heat up beside him. This is really against your brand. 

Obi-wan effortlessly weaves through the crowd and manages to secure a spot at the very end of the deck, where the bodies are dispersed more loosely. 

You lean against the railing, peering over the railing, met with the sight of hundreds of floors below you with balconies overflowing with people. 

The knowledge that you blend into the crowd is soothing. You don’t need to be anyone here. Not the grouchy mechanic, so you don’t get taken advantage of. Surrounded this way, you get to be faceless, and it’s something Obi-wan seems to enjoy too. 

Coruscant, or as much of it as you can see, is plunged into darkness, save the hologram numbers projected against the walls that tick down with every passing second. 

You blink in earnest as the people around you begin to shout. Ten seconds to midnight.

One last glance around you, and you’re really glad you took Obi-wan up on his offer. 

You think to tell him, but then the crowd is chanting “one” and the entire balcony holds its breath before it erupts into deafening cheers of celebration. 

The grin on your face is hard to erase when the first sparks of light illuminate the sky. All the colours you can think of burst in different patterns, sizzling into thin wisps of smoke—leaving the faintest ghost that they had been there in the first place. 

You want to do that too. 

Turning to Obi-wan, you find him already looking at you. You stumble impossibly closer towards him, hands landing on his chest as you teeter on wobbly legs. 

A look of mild surprise graces his features, lips quirking into a smile as he looks down at you. “Hello there.”

Before you allow yourself to think twice, your fingers reach up to brush the strand of hair constantly falling against his forehead.

Obi-wan’s eyes widen minutely but he makes no move to recoil. You take that as a green light, but maybe that’s just the ongoing fireworks. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning just close enough so he hears, “your hair was in your face, thought I should move it so I could see you better.”

He huffs what would have been a laugh if he wasn’t so breathless all of a sudden. Only then, do you realise how close you’ve actually gotten, when the warm air brushes your cheeks. 

Perhaps it’s the liquid courage, but something comes over you when your gaze lands on his mouth, so close but far from your own. “Can I kiss you, Obi-wan?”

Obi-wan stills. He knows he shouldn’t. His mind screams to walk away and meditate until you and your damned lips are no longer at the forefront. 

Yet, his hesitation doesn’t go far. Blame it on the alcohol if you will, but all his reservations go out the window when you blink at him, waiting with bated breaths. 

It’s a new year, he thinks, I’ll regret it tomorrow. 

The man throws caution to the wind as he closes the distance. 

Obi-wan tastes of sharp alcohol and comfort. Your lips press gently against his, as though your previous boldness had dissolved along with his resolve. 

You smile into the kiss when his hand moves to pull you in by your waist. Then, he feels you relax against him when fingers thread through the hair at his nape. 

Happy New Year, indeed. 

--

Obi-wan recalls telling himself he’d find it to feel bad in the morning, but it wholly slips his mind when the time comes, not when you look so utterly breathtaking sitting across from him, two cups of caf sitting in the short distance between you both. 

You look like bantha shit, put simply. Having managed to lead the way back home, you don’t remember much after kicking your heels off and falling face-first into bed. You imagine you look a sight, though, you can’t muster up the will to care, since all your attention is skewered by the tight ache behind your eyes, narrowly beating out the man in your kitchen. 

Squinting over the brim of your cup as you raise the caf to your lips, the heat that runs down your throat ironically soothes the burn left by the Alderaanian alcohol of the night before. 

“Stop smiling at me,” you grumble, feigning a scowl at the man slumped so comfortably in his chair, “‘S too bright.”He chuckles at that, head tilting as he regards you, bathed in the warm light bleeding into the room. 

His mind buzzes, recalling the feel of your lips pressed against his, but seeing as you haven’t shoved him out so far, he takes it as a good sign. 

Your sharp gaze follows him as he tries to gauge your thoughts. Obi-wan is nervous, which isn’t something that can be said often. The man has been trained as the galaxy’s peacekeeper, yet meets his match at the hands of a pretty mechanic. 

“I hope you had a good time,” Obi-wan says softly. It sounds as if he’s opening to a goodbye, and your heart twinges with something akin to disappointment. Apparently, it’s all too easy to forget the man you kissed last night is still a Jedi with very real Jedi duties.

You offer a light smile, “I did.” Fingers curling just that much tighter around the weight of your cup, pausing before you continue, mulling over your words, “--we should do it again.”

Obi-wan’s eyebrows raise in amusement, a cheeky grin stretching across his lips. His hand finds his beard, sweeping over as a force of habit. “It, being celebrating New Year’s or--”

He doesn’t get far with his question as you cross over to him and then you’re doing it again. 

--

Months pass. Obi-wan finds himself frequenting the underworld so much that most of his time on-planet is spent by your side, when he’s not occupied with his Jedi duties.

This time is no different. You’ve closed up shop for the day, the sign outside dim as he approaches. He’s been gone for longer than he’d like, sent on a diplomatic mission on behalf of the Republic. When Obi-wan knocks on your door, it’s clear he’s run-down.

His shoulders are slumped when he crosses the threshold, into your arms. You feel him breathe deeply as his fingers gather the fabric at your waist, anchoring himself to you.

Wordlessly, he allows you to steer him, coming to rest at the foot of your bed. His hand never leaves yours. 

The air surrounding you is thick with concern as you sit beside him, unsure. You take the moment to give Obi-wan a once over, allowing yourself the sliver of what you had been missing since he had left. 

“Your hair’s gotten longer,” you speak, raising his palm to dust a warm kiss against his knuckles, “look how it hangs in your eyes.”

Obi-wan smiles, leaning more of his weight against your side. “Couldn’t find the time to get it trimmed,” he mumbles, words laced heavy with fatigue.

You click your tongue as you tuck the auburn hair behind his ear. “Don’t need to,” you hum, eyes scanning over the thick expanse of hair gathered at his collar, “it suits you.”

It really does. The way the curls cascade down the back of his head, coming to rest atop his shoulders, the same way as the day you met him, makes it difficult to imagine anything else in place of his long hair. 

He’s scolded you before for prodding him for a holo of himself with the padawan braid. 

“Do you want me to braid your hair?” You ask into the comfortable silence, voice gentle in case he’s fallen asleep against your shoulder. A Jedi skill, he tells you, to be able to rest wherever and whenever. 

For a moment, you even believe he is—that is, until he lifts off of you with a nod. Your hand leaves his as you move behind him with excitement.

You kneel behind him as he comes to rest against your front. Your hands drape atop his shoulders, smoothing over the fabric there.“You can sleep,” you lean down, murmuring close enough he can feel your lips ghosting his cheek in a grin. 

Obi-wan chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. “Not sleeping,” he corrects, “—meditating.”

As your fingers thread through his hair with practiced ease, you bite back a bemused snort. “Well, I’d hate to keep you from that, Jedi Master.”

Obi-wan sits obediently still as you deftly weave through the compliant strands. The pair of you sit in silence, quiet enough to hear your heartbeat even out with Obi-wan’s steady breathing. Stars, he has really nice hair. The envy is short lived, as you come to end the braid at his neck, admiring your handiwork. 

His usual untampered locks now sit neatly in a braid running down the back of his head, a stark contrast to usual. 

You don’t need to ask to know he’s long past being awake. Once more, craning over his shoulder, your lips brush against his face, bearded cheek tickling your skin. 

“Rise and shine,” you laugh as his eyes flutter open to meet yours. Bleary-eyed, he offers no protest when you pull at his shoulders, shedding him of his outer robes so that he falls back on the bed wrapped in your covers. 

Obi-wan goes out like a light. How could he not? If he hadn’t been so exhausted already the feeling of your hands against his scalp would’ve done the trick anyhow. 

When he sleeps, you let yourself admire him. With his hair finally out of his face, you get to admire him in his entirety. If you had tried at any other time, he’d chide you for staring, catching you before you had even started. 

Eyes shut, Obi-wan looks serene. The usually furrowed brows have relaxed now, making the man look years younger, or how he would look if he would stop working himself to the bone. For the Republic, he says.

Even now, in the relative safety (or whatever comes close in the underworld) of your home, he looks battle-ready. The realisation comes heavy as gravity—knowing this would always be Obi-wan’s normal. 

Yet, warmth runs through your chest at the fact that even so weary, Obi-wan chose to come to you. Neither had seen it coming-- the mechanic he’d met after crashing into their shop would become a source of comfort in such turmoil. 

Thank the Maker for crashed speeders.

--

You emerge from under what feels like the hundredth speeder of the day, grease smeared across your arms and sweat dotting your skin. You should really start charging more. Your droid whirs in delight, logging another successful transaction while you wipe off traces of work on a nearby grease rag. 

The sun, or what light reaches down there has dimmed, signalling the end of another day. A heavy sigh racks your chest and you catch sight of your reflection in the deteriorating mirror across the room.

You look like a day of work—stained overalls and burnt fingertips, but one part stays the same as it had when the work started. As your eyes drift over the braids pulling your hair back, everything that you had been trying to push back by throwing yourself into hours of work bubbles to the surface.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you avert your eyes.

--

He’s probably dead. You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a pessimist, but that’s most likely the case, and it would do you more good to accept it than what you’re doing now; tuning out the news until the briefest mention of the Grand Army of the Republic, dropping everything for the smallest sliver of news, for hope.

Obi-wan hadn’t told you about the clones. It had come as a surprise to most, word spreading that the Republic finally had its own army. You remember watching the new Chancellor Palpatine on the holonews, a pit of unease simmering in your stomach as his words rang.

A clone army. 

You don’t see that everyday—or perhaps you will now.

It’s been near a full month of radio silence. If Obi-wan and his troops are alive, the news certainly doesn’t think so. There’s been no mention of any rescue mission from the Republic, which you believe to be rather telling. A clone army—expendable. Jedi, also expendable, apparently.

The best course of action would be business as usual. He has told you that this was his duty, that his loyalty would always lie with the Republic and his role as a Jedi. You understood, but certainly hadn’t expected that loyalty to lead him to his grave.

So, naturally, you close shop for the day. Your customers will survive. The sign on the outer wall remains dim all morning and the light outside doesn’t reach you, hidden away in your bed.

Again, Coruscant is fucking cold. There’s absolutely no rhyme or reason for it and just adds another point in your list of factors to leave the damned planet. No matter how many layers you huddle under, the cold manages to find you. 

Most traces of him are gone. The spice that clings to his robes and lingers in the air long after he’s gone has dissipated and you start to wonder if he had ever been here at all. 

The last thing you expect is to hear the rapping of knuckles against your front door. 

The second the first knock comes, your heart stops, the briefest glimmer of hope wrestling its way up. Barrelling towards the door, it slides open to reveal the man previously presumed dead.

For a moment, you don’t think it’s real. Obi-wan stands in the doorway, robes singed to hell and back, a nasty cut running along his temple and looking like he’s aged ten years, yet you recognise him in a heartbeat.

He hears your breath hitch in your throat when you freeze.  His expression is cautious, considering your reaction. He had found his way back to Coruscant all the way from Felucia, yet the distance separating you seems far too large.

“You cut your hair,” you finally say. Gone are the auburn curls that once brushed his collar which is now clipped short, baring his neck. Your shoulders slack before you’re pulling him in by the shoulders, sending him lurching into your chest. 

Obi-wan laughs at that, engulfing you in his arms. His grasp winds tight around you and you stand there for what feels like hours but not enough, and all you can think is he’s here.

Obi-wan pulls back, eyes finding yours with a fond smile. “I’ll just have to learn to do your hair now.” He leans in, placing a kiss to the crown of your hair. “You don’t look very well, love.”

“—because of me?”

You huff indignantly at that, pulling out of his hold, “yes, I do have you to thank for a solid month of worrying.” 

Obi-wan pauses, eyes flickering over your shoulder. You can tell he takes it to heart.

“Hey,” you murmur, lifting a palm to his cheek, “it would just really suck if you died, y’know?” 

He sighs, “I’m sorry I worried you. I tried to find a working commlink but—” He stills once more, shaking his head in defeat. You fill the silence. 

“But you were at war, Obi-wan. Commlinks can wait, I’m just happy you made it home in one piece. That’s all that matters.”

The man exhales once more but he concedes with a nod. Knowing he must feel like absolute bantha crap, you usher him to the worn sofa. He watches you flitter around the room, rummaging through cupboards and he can’t help but notice how normal this feels. 

Eventually, you bring him a steaming cup of caf, something that seems to flow endlessly in your home and perch beside him on the armrest. The pair of you settle into a comfortable silence. As you lace your fingers between his, you can feel him formulating his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” You hum, tapping his wrist. Obi-wan is still, before he whips his head towards you. 

“If you asked… I’d stay.” Obi-wan blurts.

The words make you gape and you’re speechless for a good amount of time. He watches you intently, serious as ever. 

“Obi-wan,” you begin slowly, “you know I’d never ask that of you.”

“I know that,” he responds firmly, “I also know the Jedi way forbids attachment, that I’d have to let you go. Yet, on Felucia, I wasn’t fighting for the Republic. When we were surrounded by the Separatist droids, I was trying to get back to you.”

Your heart is thudding in your chest, pounding against your ribcage with such ferocity you wonder if even he can hear it. You don’t know what to say. 

He leans closer earnestly as his grip on your hand tightens. “I can’t promise things won’t always be this way, but I will always find my way back to you.”

Words have never been your strong suit, this much is certain so you close the gap between you instead, hoping that your lips on his can convey all the emotions cresting from his promise. 

When you pull away, it’s because he wipes a tear that escapes down your cheek. “I just hope I’m not the reason you’ll turn to the dark side,” you say with a soft laugh. 

Obi-wan nudges your cheek bemusedly, “it’s more likely than you think.”

Bathed in the colourful lights seeping through the blinds, you savour the peace. The morning seems a little brighter and tucked into Obi-wan’s side, Coruscant doesn’t seem so cold anymore.

[effinsusie]

Day 7: Purple

CLASS ACT ch 2 on A03

Summary: School’s finally out.  Rated T+

Their tangled bodies fell together in a heap of sweaty exhaustion, clinging on as the world around them slowly fell back into place. Kagome's head finally stopped swimming, but she was still catching her breath, and the heavy rise and fall of his scalding chest beneath her cheek told her he was as well.

When the last stars sparkled from her vision; the fingers buried in thick, wild strands gave a gentle tug that forced her to look up.

"Look at you," she croaked, nuzzling deeper in his embrace, "So smug. It just slipped."

"So much for your restraint."

Those long, talented fingers lazily worked through the knots he'd put there. His own hair was no better, and she braved the arrogance she spent the last two hours feeding just to take another glimpse of the rare, disorderly sight.

Too rare, she sighed. At least lately.

She rolled on top of him to put her face in his own; the challenge in her eyes caused his eyebrow to lift.

Soft lips drifted to his ear. "Bet you can't make me say it again," she whispered before heatedly kissing the abused flesh, sucking on his lobe.

Warm hands smoothed over her backside, squeezing roughly when she rotated her hips. He rocked into the friction that stirred his arousal once again, releasing a guttural groan when skillful lips moved down his neck.

"Hn, I have worked too long around children to not identify such a childish ploy, Miss Higurashi."

Lean legs parted, pinning him between her knees and she rested her forehead heavily atop his own. Blue eyes looked innocently into his, batting dark lashes against his heavy lids.

"Does that mean you are going to discipline me, Principal Taisho?" she taunted, squirming into him again.

She let out a delightful shriek when he made firm contact with her ass, which became a pleasured gasp as he soothed the erotic sting with the offending palm. She threw her head back, encouraging the attention as he feasted on her throat to a chorus of breathy moans and sighs.

When she tried to rise up on her knees, a swift maneuver toppled her, so she was trapped half-way beneath him.

"You are in for a long night," he promised lowly. "I will ensure you are hydrated."

As he tried to pry himself off, she clung to him in protest. He returned for a kiss.

"I will not have you passing out from exhaustion before I am through with you."

Another slap reddened her other cheek, and she finally let him rise, rolling onto her back with a satiated smile.

Scooting to sit against her headboard, Kagome watched on fondly as he took a couple of tall glasses into the bathroom and busied himself at the sink. His chiseled body was covered with bitemarks and bruises, and she admired her handiwork in the various shades of purple littering his long, pale form.

"I meant it, you know."

He looked up from the glass he was filling, lips quirked. "I know."

The smile they shared relayed much more than the lust they'd spent the better part of the evening celebrating. But the circumstances of their relationship forced too much to go unsaid as it was.

"I've really missed you this week."

The hint of sadness in her voice reflected in his gaze, making her feel guilty.

"I will endeavor to make the next more accommodating, lest we find ourselves both seeking employment."

He was only half-joking, but it was clear that ignoring their desires at work was impossible if they couldn't find at least some time together during the week.

She hated those rules, but she loved this job. And she had only just started there. She didn't know if his tenor made the situation better for him, or worse.

"Maybe me, but they won't fire you."

"I am your superior," he said, and shut off the sink. "I am held to a higher standard."

"Don't think that's not how I'll plead my case if we get caught, either." She grinned cheekily as he walked back in the room, a full glass of water in each hand.

"Don't think I will not support those claims."

She was only kidding, but Kagome truly believed she was the only one in danger of getting put up on the chopping block if their colleagues found out about them. At the very least, his job would be spared.

His reputation, on the other hand...

Not that hers would be any better, but that was the more likely consequence of their torrid little affair.

At least, she had to believe it was. She didn't know if she could carry on like this if she thought their actions might ruin him. Speaking of which...

"I meant to ask; did you get ahold of Kagura?"

He rounded the bed carefully with his cargo, looking too stoic not to be uncomfortable with the topic.

He'd pointedly avoided discussing her, though she suspected it was for as his benefit just as much as hers. But enough time had passed, and she didn't want to avoid anything when it came to him.

She'd proven that just thirty minutes ago.

"Unfortunately, I missed her at pick up this afternoon- despite the messages I left."

He handed her a glass and took a seat on the edge of the bed while she greedily gulped it down.

"I called three times, and she has yet to respond," he said, and paused halfway to bringing the water to his lips. "Though considering how we left things, it is not entirely unexpected."

Seeing how much this daunted him, she felt guilty for troubling him with it. But she knew he would have wanted her to.

She began rubbing his back supportively.

"I hope she does, for Rin's sake. You're her daughter's principal; she can't avoid you forever."

He sighed, placing his empty glass next to hers. "You are right, of course, but the wounds are still fresh." At her insistence, he stretched out beside her on the bed, pulling her close as she happily nuzzled into the embrace.

"Regardless, if need be, I shall pay her a visit. Though I hope it does not come to that."

"Me too." She smiled deviously, sliding her body over his. "But I have to say; it's really sexy how you go above and beyond for your students."

Mischief returned to his eyes, staring back at her through sodden, silver bangs. She gyrated, hands smoothing over the planes of his broad chest as he arrested her arms in his grip.

"Let us not forget all I do for the teachers," he rumbled, craning forward.

Before their lips met, she pushed him back.

"I hope I'm the only one getting such special attention."

"Of course," he said, and leaned towards her again. This time, he landed a kiss.

When she pulled away after only a quick moment, he was not discouraged, affirming his hold and busying himself at the hollow of her throat.

"Hm, I don't know," she grinned. "I see you talking to Kaede an awful lot in the lounge..."

A muffled noise vibrated against her, making the hands at his shoulders clutch tightly.

"Merely a decoy," he removed his lips long enough to say, "to divert from the tawdry affair I am having with the pretty, young new hire."

She giggled as he returned to kissing her neck, but they became breathier as he grew more assertive.

"So scandalous," she gasped. "I'm starting to think you didn't hire me on account of my exemplary credentials."

"Of course, I did," he said, dragging his mouth over salty, heated skin. "Though I must admit, that was not the reason I insisted on taking you to lunch on your first day."

She feigned incredulity, forcing him onto his back.

"You mean, you don't take all the new teachers to the nicest restaurant in town to welcome them aboard?"

"No." He kissed her again. "Nor do I invite them to my personal residence for celebratory drinks, offer to help them move into their new apartment or... any of the numerous events that took place afterward."

She rested her full weight atop him, batting innocent blue eyes in his face once again.

"Except Kaede," she asserted.

She shrieked when he flipped them effortlessly, a mixture of giggles and screams as he pinned her beneath his body and let her punishment finally commence.

They continued long into the night, along with a myriad of other noises that made him glad he got her hydrated.

TBC

***

A/N: That's SessKag Week! I wish I could have given you guys (and myself) closure on all these stories, but I'm actually pretty syked I managed to post everyday. I couldn't quite make it last year, and I did not think I'd have more than 3 days to contribute when the week began. I was literally writing until the moment I posted on these, so it was pretty exciting! I learned a lot about what I can get done if I really push, and don't worry about perfection (or whatever my version of that is lol) So, I have this story and Greener Pastures to finish, along with another installment to Transparent (Opaque). Which would you like to see first? I'll see what i can do.

And for those of you screaming WTF? FINISH RENDEZVOUS ALREADY! or UPDATE VICE; don't worry! I did not abandon them. I was just trying to get through this week, and then I swear I will get back to those. Sometimes space from a story makes it better, and i think you're gonna be glad i let it settle.

Thanks for reading!  I have a ton to catch up on.

Oh yeah, and Feudal Connection is having their Inuyasha awards rn on Tumblr. So you can go vote for the fics and art you like for a bit longer.

[nava-rasa-bharita]

Hello everyone! This is my writing alternative page and I decided to just try and write a queer warm story/moment in time with elements of my home culture. I am looking for feedback and would love to hear what you guys have to say! Please enjoy and I hope you have a nice day!!

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

It was a cold, wet autumn evening outside. The leaves turned into mush under the thick-soled rainproof boots of children and adults alike. Umbrellas sang percussive songs under the rain, enveloping the atmosphere in a steady white noise. At the Reddy-Johnson household, a standard suburban structure of white painted wood with the spice of pride flags and gnomes, two child-sized figures, cloaked in yellow latex that was beaded with rainwater, made their way to the door and rang the bell.

"వస్తున్నాను, ఒక్క నిమిషం! (Coming, just a minute!)" Dinesh announced from the inside of the house, barely audible over the pitter-patter of precipitation. He ushered the kids inside into the mudroom, where they were greeted into the warm interior with fresh towels and warm hugs.

"Naanna¹, stop it, you're embarrassing me in front of Skylar!" Sam proclaimed as his hair was dried up by Dinesh's firm but gentle brown hands.

"I know Kanna², but consider this my apology for not picking you up in this rainy weather, my meeting ran on for too long and I would've come to pick you up but you came all by yourself. You should have waited for me!"

"To be fair, Mr. Reddy, your house is quite nearby." Skylar chimed in, to which Sam nodded as well.

"I understand that Skylar, but not in this rain! Look at how wet you both got, even with your rainproofs on."

The boys laughed in agreement and they all entered the home. Dinesh went straight to the kitchen while Skylar and Sam went up to Sam's room.

As Dinesh was washing the rice and putting it in the pressure cooker, a buzz in his pocket alerted him to an incoming phone call. Opening it, the phone displayed an incoming call from Sreevaaru³.

"Tell me Percy, where are you?" Dinesh asked his partner as he started to put on the pan for tonight's curry.

"I'm at the grocery store to get us some more veggies, you did say we were running out right?"

"But didn't we agree we were going to shop them together?" Dinesh asked.

"I know, but I thought I might as well stop by seeing as how the shop's on the way, although this list is quite long I will say."

"Never mind that Percy!" Dinesh said with a hint of irritation in his voice. "Samir has got a friend over! Not just any friend, it's Skylar, the one he asked out, remember?"

"Wait, that was today?" Percy said, which only contributed to Dinesh's irritation, culminating in a sigh. "Just come on over, I have enough for now that we can manage. Oh, but seeing as you're already there, can you get a pack of Samir's favourite ice cream? And some dark chocolate ice cream as a backup."

"Dinesh, this is the 5th time this month he's had ice-cream!" Percy retaliated, trying to get him to listen to reason. " We can't just spoil our child like that!"

" I know, but just this one time, it's a special occasion!" Dinesh replied. " I'll make you your favourite Ladyfinger curry tomorrow if you get it, how does that sound?"

Tempted by the offer of his favourite dish from his husband's hand, Percy obliged. " Ok, but no more ice cream this month, ok?".

"Thanks love, you're the best!" Saying that, Dinesh ended the call with some kisses as an added bonus, and went back to cooking.

As the pan sizzled with the aroma of curry leaves and mustard seeds, Dinesh keep thinking about how he met Percy. It seemed like it was straight out of a fairy tale if anything: he bumped into Percy in the college corridor and the duo became smitten for each other. Dinesh found it lucky that he took the same degree as Percy, as it meant their classes had a lot of overlap.

It was academic time spent together that eventually led them to hang out casually. Sleepover movie nights as friends soon turned into romantic coffee dates and culinary home-cooking dates as they expressed their love for each other. As Dinesh clutched his wedding band and thought of memories well made, he couldn't help but think about Samir and how he was soon going to experience the same as well.

.

.

.

.

As Dinesh was laying out the dinner table, the news was reading out highlights from the living room. "

"Samir! Skylar! Dinner's ready! Come on up here you two!" Dinesh called. The kids readily arrived and sat their middle-school selves at the table as Dinesh was just finished with laying the table. Just then, a ring at the bell conveyed the arrival of a certain someone.

"Dad!" Samir exclaimed as he got up out of his chair and ran excitedly to the door, with Dinesh following slowly after.

The door creaked open to reveal a tall man cloaked in leather, beads of water decorating it like clear rhinestones. His dark sunglasses contrasted directly with the peachy complexion on his face as he opened the jacket, revealing a checked half-sleeved shirt.

"Come here you" Dinesh said as he enveloped Percy in a white towel and warm hug, drying Percy's hair and warming Percy up with a small peck on the cheek. Percy reciprocated as he placed his head head on Dinesh's apron from his seat on the chair, with the warmth of the stove and the faint smell of spices lingering on his apron.

As they both headed in, Dinesh went towards the pooja room⁴ as Percy went up to change and come down for dinner.

"We have a tradition for dinner in our household, Skylar." Dinesh said as he placed an ornate bronze bowl on the table. " In our household, we serve all of the prepared items to our worshipped deity and then we mix it all together and have a little bit. I'll place a little on your plate and if you like it I'll give you some more, alright?".

Skylar nodded as Dinesh placed a bit of the now holy mixture onto his plate. He then went on to serving the mixture on everyone else's plates as Skylar put the swirly mixture of food into his mouth.

"Mmmmm, it's quite delicious!" Skylar said as Percy came down, changed into his home clothes, and took his seat. "It's honestly my favourite part of the meal too, because it means I can sample all of Dinesh's cooking in one bite!" Percy added with a toothy grin as he subtly winked at his husband.

"Oh hush, you!" Dinesh retorted as they sat down for the meal. Skylar ate with his cutlery set while Sam and his parents ate with their hands.

"Mmm... This is so delicious!" Skylar exclaimed as he shovelled spoonfuls of rice into his mouth. " I love this in particular, it feels nice to eat with the plain rice!", he added, pointing to the pieces of the dry fry placed in the middle of the top row of his plate.

"That would be the raw banana fry! It's a particular favorite of mine, both to make and to eat." Dinesh added as he ate a bunch of the fry himself.

" I like it too, but I love your Pappu⁵ much better! " Samir added as he started to dig into the yellow lentil stew himself.

" Since you like it that much, have some more!" Percy added as he brought the bowl with Pappu towards Samir. " And while you're at it, make sure to mix everything thoroughly before eating, I can still see white streaks in your rice!" he chided, only to receive a frown and a grumbled "Yes Dad" from Samir.

As they sat and ate, the group of 4 talked about myriad topics, with Dinesh and Percy making sure to center the kids and their days and happenings. Occasionally, however, Dinesh couldn't help but add a romantic story from the couple's days spent together in college. It was recited with a rosy glow in Dinesh's face, met with Percy trying to hide his face in embarrassment and the kids listening all the more intently.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Alright then kids, it's time for dessert!" Dinesh exclaimed as everyone settled by the TV. The tubs of ice cream and bottles of wafer sticks and chocolate syrup lay in front of the coffee table as everyone ate their flavour and toppings of choice. Since they turned on the fireplace, the heat in the air seemed to increase the cold refreshing sweetness of the ice cream.

"Thank you so much for getting me this flavour Dad, it's amazing!!" Samir said to his Dad, only to be met with a warning to not eat too fast lest he get brain freeze. "I know it's your favorite, but your ice cream won't run off anywhere, got it!" Percy added for good measure.

The night ended with the group watching a quiz show and keeping track of the answers for the final tele-contest segment. "If we win anything from this, I'll make sure to to treat you to pizza!!" Samir added, only to be met with a shy, warm blush from Skylar. Samir slowly approached with his hand towards Skylar, an invitation to hold his hand. Skylar glanced Samir in the eyes, then looked to his hands. Samir nodded in affirmation, and Skylar went in with his hand as well. Dinesh and Percy watched on from the couch - cuddled up under their warm blanket - as their hearts filled with joy at the opportunity of a childhood romance their child was having, something they never were able to have. They also engaged in their own romance as they hugged each other tightly, filling the air with the warmth of the night and human emotion.

---------------------------End of short story------------------------------

Footnotes:

1: Naanna (నాన్న in Telugu) is the term for Dad in Telugu.

2: Kanna (కన్నా in Telugu) is a term of endearment used for boys by parents, with a sense of equating the children to their fathers and giving them that love. Sometimes even Naanna is used in place of Kanna. (The equivalent of this for girls is Thalli, తల్లీ)

3: Sreevaaru (శ్రీవారు) is a term used by spouses to respectfully refer to their husbands

4: In most Hindu households, there tends to be either a small or a full-sized room dedicated to prayer and worship, filled with idols of deities and all of the supplies and materials required for the worship as well. Pooja is a general term which means worship across various Indian languages.

5: Pappu (పప్పు) is used to refer to both the word for lentils in Telugu, but also the dish of plain lentils steamed and lightly mashed with a bit of salt and water to form a viscous stew (consistency is adjustable) which is most commonly served with hot plain rice and ghee.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Prologue: Onset of Injury (Sy)

Characters: Captain Syverson, various OMCs

Summary: Sy’s POV, the night and the mission that ended his military career and set him unknowingly on a path to true love.

Catch up on all chapters right here!

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings:  Language, violence, attempted military talk, feels…

Author’s Note: Okay friends, most of what I know about military ops I learned from watching movies…so, this may not all be accurate. But I think most of the terms and jargon are in line, even if this mission wouldn’t necessarily go down like this.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: 

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@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson had done a hundred briefings like this one. They were going into a compound with some low level goons, mid-level players, and one big boss. Two teams. Two entrances. One exit. The roof. Air extraction. Minimal undesirable casualties. Five or six mid to high level prisoners.

“Alright ladies, here’s the plan. The compound is central city. Alpha team, we’ll get dropped off by transpo two blocks south of the front entrance, Bravo team, same for you, two blocks north of the back entrance. Bravo, you head east and down once inside, Alpha will go west and up. Standard flanking formation. Stay frosty in there. These guys aren’t cub scouts. They will shoot on sight. Do your best not to be seen. Once the lower levels are cleared, we work our way to the top where we should find the big Kahuna. Do your best not to kill anyone in a suit. Tac gear only, unless it’s your life or theirs. These guys have intel the brass wants. Supposedly.”

Heads were nodding. Lopez raised his hand. The other guys laughed, but Sy appreciated the respect.

“Ricky?” He pointed at him to accept the question.

“Sir, what about evac?” He stood tall and sharp. He was new to the team, but Sy liked him already.

“That’s a great question, and thank you for raising your hand. Take notes on teacher’s pet here, class.” Everyone including Lopez laughed.

“There’s a stairwell to the roof in the master bedroom. That’s the LZ for our helo. They should be less than five mikes out, so we shouldn’t have time to order pizzas or anything after we clear the compound. So once the call is made, you won’t have long to get up the stairs. The helo can’t stay grounded for too long without drawing attention. We will need to keep an eye out for unfriendlies off compound being warned about our presence, and for survivors. Listen, I can’t stress this enough. I know it’s not easy to kill. And I don’t encourage it if it’s not necessary.  But these are bad people and they would kill you, the man next to ya, your sister, your parents, or your dog if they could.”

Aika, Sy’s German Shepherd whimpered in the corner but was ignored.

“Kill them for your brothers. For your neighbors. For the children you don’t even have yet. Because what do we do?”

“We embrace the darkness and the suffering.” His teammates that had been there for a while repeated the first part of the sin-eater credo.

“And why do we do it?”

“So that our fellow man is free to live in peace.” they finished the mantra as they had so many times before.

“Fuckin’ A. We roll in one hour.”

~~~~~~~~~

The drop and the entry had gone off without a hitch. Sy's Alpha team were like shadows, the very finger of death for the unjust and evil in the compound. Everyone they encountered was quietly subdued, whether by strategically placed blades, silenced firearms, or in some cases, the literal snapping of necks. Bravo team was just as successful. But Alpha team wasn't finding many prisoners.

The real problem came, though, when they reached the top floor where the big kahuna was supposed to be. Everything had gone dark, even though it had been lit up like Christmas, the Fourth of July, and the Super Bowl all in one when they were making their approach to the compound. Someone had squawked. Raised a silent alarm. Something.

"This…this doesn't smell right, captain." Harztler voiced what was running silently through Sy's mind. "This level was like Times Square when we got here. Now nothing? It stinks."

"I can smell it, Jake. I don't like it." he activated his comms. "Bravo team, we are sitting ducks up here, what is your twenty? Over."

"Sir, we are wrapping up down here, and getting the targets ready for evac. We should be on route in less than ten mikes. Over."

"Push it to five if ya can, private. We don't like the look of this bedroom. Over."

"Is this the moment to be questioning someone's taste in interior design, captain? Over."

"Shitcan that disrespect, private, or you'll be digging latrines alone next time we have survival drills. Over."

"Understood, sir. Will try to push to five mikes. Over."

"That'd be best. Over and out." He signed off with Lopez, amused at the inferior officer’s joke, even though he couldn’t show it openly.

Hartzler has just started to suggest possible reasons for their unease when the sound of rapid automatic firepower rang out from one of the floors below them.

“Fuck.” Both men said in unison followed immediately by frantic shouts from Sy’s radio.

“*crackle crackle* we are taking heavy fire! Kominski is down! Lopez is hit! Alpha team! Captain, do you copy? Over!"

"I'm on my way, Fuller. Hang tight. Over and out." Sy said and looked at the men on his team, "Hartzler, you and Goldberg signal the Helo for evac ASAP and get to the roof. Schmidt, Freeman, you two come with me to back up Bravo team. We meet at the LZ in five. That's not a big window, gentlemen, we'll radio if we hit any snags. Clear?"

"Clear." a round of nods and affirmations came from the rest of the team. Sy turned for the exit to the room, checking his clip, and putting one in the chamber. Stakes were higher than ever.

The last three steps to the ground floor were half blocked by a slumped corpse. Kominski. Sy fought the emotion building in him as he remembered David showing him photos of his two young daughters, Charlotte, who was seven, and Renee who had just turned five. And his gorgeous wife Sasha. His high school sweetheart. He was distracted enough  by thought of the soon to be grieving girls, that he missed the pool of blood, Kominski's blood, on the black tile steps. His knee twisted unnaturally. And he could almost feel the protest of his muscles and tendons.

"Fuck! Mind your footing on these last few, boys." he winced, limping on toward the firefight. He signaled the men behind him to stay against the wall and follow him quietly until he gave the signal to attack. There were three men in tactical gear firing from behind a bar in the corner, pinning what was left of Bravo team in their position behind an overturned dining table. It was just Fuller and Lopez now. Sy took the opportunity during a slow point in the enemy's fire to enter, managing to shoot all three immediately, single handedly ending things.

"Alpha team, secure the area. Fuller, Lopez, what is your status?" Sy asked the men.

"Lopez is hit pretty bad in the leg. We've got a tourniquet in place. I am…uninjured. But our prisoners have been…neutralized by friendly fire." Well, fuck. That was the mission blown.

"Ammo?" Sy asked, frustrated.

"Depleted, sir." they hadn't planned for this.

"Fuller, you and Schmidt get Kominski up the stairs, pronto. We ain't leavin' him in this hell hole. Freeman, you watch their backs. Keep 'em covered in case there are any more of these assholes lurkin' around the place. Lopez, I'm gonna help you up them stairs. Can you get up?"

"I'll try, sir."

"Okay, roll out." Sy went to help Lopez to his feet. The boy wasn't hardly 160 pounds soakin' wet.

It was slow going, with Kominski and Lopez in tow, but they made it back to the bedroom just as the sound of the helicopter began to grow, and the roof began to quiver from the wind kicked up by the blades.

Sy made Schmidt and Fuller go first, as they had the biggest burden. Then Freeman, in case they needed another hand getting Kominski's body into the hold. His knee burned after the four flights he'd already done supporting Lopez, but the private had lost so much blood. He thought he'd have to carry him up this last flight to the roof. The boy was pale as a…sheet. He didn't let himself think of an apparition.

When he felt safe enough, and ready, he told Lopez the plan and hoisted him over his shoulder on his uninjured side. His knee protested angrily, but he proceeded, ignoring the pain, forcing it down with those emotions about the Kominski family.

Relief washed over him as he made the last step and his boot crunched against the loose pea gravel of the roof top. They were almost out of the woods.

Until a massive explosion in the HVAC unit knocked him off balance and took him down to his knees, Lopez's added weight a contributing force in what he was certain was now a broken leg bone given a very clear and distinct pop he'd heard even over the noise of the fire and wind. He had heard it from the inside. He thought  it would be the tibia, but his knowledge of anatomy wasn't anything to write home about. He dropped the boy with an agonized howl. The heat from the blast bit at his back as he tried to find the strength to stand. But he couldn't. His team was charging toward him and the private. And for once, he was overjoyed to receive help. Fuller and Freeman got Lopez under each arm and dragged him the few yards to the open hold. Schmidt helped Sy up as best he could, but the Captain was in excruciating pain.

"Captain, we gotta go. These assholes are gonna blow up their own property to get us. Come on. It's not far. You can make it." Schmidt let his CO lean on him all the way to the helo.

Sy noticed tied up in one of the bucket seats of the hold, a man in maroon silk pajamas and brown leather loafers without socks. An Iraqi, early sixties, hair and beard still dark black. Their primary target. Mostafa Kassab.

"Where'd he come from?" Sy shouted at Hartzler.

"He was hunkered down in that corner over there when we came up to signal the chopper." the sergeant lit up with pride. "Fuller told me their prisoners didn't make it. I'm glad we found Kassab up here, or the mission would have been a total waste.

As they took off, Sy looked from the covered body of Kominski to the prone form of Lopez, who was paler than ever and glassy-eyed. It was hard in that moment to think that even ten of Mostafa Kassab could be worth one of these men he was lucky enough to call friends.

As he examined his knee, beginning to swell and looking a much different shape than he ever remembered, he thought about what this could mean for him, as a captain, as a soldier…as a man. If he could even call himself a man if he had to take away the title of captain and soldier. This was his calling. He wasn’t sure how he’d go on if…but, he’d wait to think about that when he got back to base and the medic’s tent. After all, what was the worst that could happen? It wasn’t like he was hurt bad enough to earn a discharge letter…was he?

Up Next: Chapter One: Evaluation

[lethesomething]

Ghost of Tsushima and the Hands of Fate

I see we're still trying to prove that games are an art form by making everyone feel bad.

For the record, Ghost of Tsushima is one of my favourite games in a very long time. It is extremely pretty, the aesthetic and general … polish is *cheff's kiss*. You can pet foxes and backstab people. The fighting mechanic is decent and there are just So Many Hats.

But also, it has the kind of story that pulls you in to the point where you have to drop the controller to hide behind your fingers going 'ohgodno'.

It is an absolute bastard of a game, is what i'm saying.

So let's talk about that, and specifically about Straw Hat Ryuzo and how I feel bad for him.

I am, by the way, going to be talking about the narrative structure of a video game about medieval samurai, so expect like, a bunch of spoilers.

The narrative is one of the big draws in Ghost of Tsushima. Like yes, it's an open world rpg with fighting and flower picking and all the important stuff, and also yes, some of the bits are sloppily written (looking at you, specifically, 'Ending to Norio's Arc'), but the game definitely sets out to Tell a Story.

And because this is a Serious Game that openly bases itself on samurai movies like Kurosawa's, it is a Drama.

In many ways it is an utterly brutal Bildungsroman, a narrative in which a young man finds his identity.

I have joked with friends about the clear intent for this game to make Important Stories, in that it actually tries to tick all the boxes of hotbutton subjects: childhood trauma? Obviously. Gay relationships?  Yup. Survivor's guilt and PTSD? Oh yes. Domestic abuse? Several. Suggested pedophilia? Damn, even that.

The foxes are there to soothe the soul

It's interesting to note that from a writing point of view, this bildungsroman is even Very Classically Structured. It goes so far as to be a three acter, with a pretty standard build-up.

 Jin Sakai, traumatized man that he is, spends the first act slowly getting to grips with the bit where you don't fight an army by yourself by  just walking up to them and challenging them With Honour, like he has been taught his entire life. Instead of getting stabbed repeatedly in the chest and set on fire, he  discovers guerilla warfare and creates this persona of the Ghost, a literal vengeful spirit seeking justice for the island of Tsushima.

It gets him some big wins and in the second act he slowly embraces this identity until things get to a head where he clashes with his entire old life. The third act starts at the hero's lowest point and is utterly gut wrenching (i am Still Not Over the horse, game), forcing him to pull himself together for an ending that is, well…fitting for the narrative. It's an ending that is needed, but perhaps not what Jin deserves.

 But anyway, this is about Ryuzo, and how until that ending, I was very upset about his role.

You see, this story is told in part through the lives of Important Npc's, who contribute to Jin's journey of self-discovery. This is pretty obvious with someone like Yuna, who is the one to introduce him to the Stealth Life and who is a driving force behind the marketing of the Ghost.

Someone like Masako, meanwhile, portrays vengeance and self discipline, but Jin also kinda tries to make her fill the mother-shaped hole in his heart.

Lord Shimura, meanwhile, is an Obvious Father figure but also stands for Jin's past. He's rigid and ineffective, which pushes Jin to further look for alternatives.

Ishikawa, that other mentor figure, is more moderate and flexible, but he also represents a possible unwanted future. He literally warns Jin at one point not to become like him.

Norio, then, is as mentioned not the best written, but he too is a person that searches for his destiny and tries to become like his hero, while only barely holding on to his sanity. 

Kenji, I'm sorry, I love you but you're just comic relief, that's all you do. It's an imporant job in the story, because god does it need it, but you're not teaching Jin anything other than how to make different 'resigned sigh' noises.

So what about Ryuzo? From the very beginning, Ryuzo's story didn't really sit right with me. There's the obvious class issue: he's one of the few important npc's that are poor, and he's an Antagonist.

It has always rubbed me the wrong way that his original intentions were good, depending on how you read it. He's trying to feed his men. He essentially made the decision that this one man's life (even if it is an old friend) is worth the price for the lives of his band of ronin.

It's a lot more complex than that, of course. Ryuzo partly blames Jin for his predicament in life, and he also knows that samurai treat their soldiers as chattel, which the game goes out of its way to show you they DO.

  Essentially, he's a complicated character who makes bad decisions for arguably good reasons.

Ryuzo did everything he could to save the lives of the people he cared about. He went so far as to abandon his honor and his childhood friends, to try to make this happen.

Does that ring any bells?

It kinda clicked for me at the very end of the game.

Jin, being the protag in an assassin game, does a lot of killing. But some of these deaths are given more meaning than others. Some of them are there to make you feel like shit (the Horse Again, but you lose several friends along the way), others serve a more defining purpose.

You see, there's a fair amount of what i'd like to call 'intimate violence' in Ghost of Tsushima. It's an old trope. The 'if someone was gonna kill me, it had to be you' kinda scene that hails from a worldview in which some deaths are better than others, sure, but some deaths are better even than living. It's a worldview in which life itself is less valuable than your legacy. You die for your place in history. For your clan, for your family, for your honor.

Bushido is full of that sort of thing, so it makes sense that a game building on that worldview, would use the heck out of that trope.

  The first is Ryuzo's death. You fight him in a duel, in which he tries to plead for some resolution. You could let him go, come up with some story. But Ryuzo is a traitor, so Jin ultimately defeats him and sends him off in what would be a touching moment of bro friendship if it wasn't for the blood and my 21st century sensibilities.

You grant him a warrior's death, is what I'm saying.

  It happens again with Shimura. The game actually gives you a choice here, but if you go through with it, the scene almost perfectly mirrors Ryuzo's.

You fight in a duel, and Jin tries to get his uncle to just let him go, come to some kind of resolution. But Jin has been branded a traitor, and the only way for Shimura to restore his honour and clan, is to take his life;

This being a game in which you have the power of bamboo strikes and also save games behind you, Jin ultimately wins the duel, and has the option of granting Shimura a warrior's death.

It is utterly heart wrenching and that whole scene has no business being as pretty as it is. The swelling music? The fucking strings? The anguished yell?

Fuck.

  But anyway.

That's about where it clicked with me, that Jin never had a choice.

Ryuzo's whole role wasn't fair, but this is one of those stories where life itself is just not fair at all.

Both him and Shimura are there to show us Jin's path.

  What if, the game says, Jin had listened? What if he'd taken one of several offers the Khan made and surrendered?

What if he'd cooperated?

Well, we see in Graphic Detail what would happen. He would get pushed into doing horrific things. He gets manipulated, again and again, until there is no way out anymore. At some point it becomes clear to him that he's on the wrong side but whenever he tries to devise some plan to turn things around, things go Badly. He's firmly stuck in Khotun's web and the only way out is death.

But what if, the game says, Jin had stayed true to his honour? What if he had listened to his uncle, not defied him, if he had dropped the Ghost before it was too late?  If he'd gone full bushido and repented for the shogun and done all the groveling and the proper stuff.

Samuraihood is just another straightjacket, says Shimura's fate. The tenets are so rigorous you would take your loved ones life, while fucking bawling your eyes out. Shimura knows damn well it's unfair but he also has no way to leave this path. It's a ride he cannot, and will not, get off alive.

  Jin never had a choice.

There was only ever one way for him to go.

Like let's be real: pretty much everyone in this story was dealt a bad hand. It's a narrative about resilience in the face of utter horror, of reinventing yourself and giving up entire structures of faith. People like Masako, Yuna, Norio are finding peace in dealing with huge levels of trauma and regret.

The goal isn't to start a family and live happily ever after, it's to Survive.

Submitting to the mongols would have killed Jin's spirit. Standing tall and rigid as he was taught to do would have, ultimately, killed him as well.

  "I've given up everything to save these people", he says near the end. "And I would do it again."

That's someone who has no regrets.

Jin never could have taken another path and he knows it.

And this is why Ryuzo needed a fate as shitty as his. He fell, so Jin could walk.

I'm sorry, it's still not fair.

This game needs some comfort fic.