#one: we can’t even see how many strikes any of our blogs have; side or main

[r0semultiverse]

You know what feature we need to bother staff for next? Other people’s posts getting flagged as counting towards “strikes” on our blogs.

[siena-sevenwits]

Blogging The Last Unicorn, Chapters 2-3 (reread)

I skipped the opening chapter and will return to it once I’m properly into the story – that first chapter always gets in the way of my rereading.

Oh, I love, love Peter S. Beagle’s lyrical prose and overly thoughtful dialogue. It’s a matter of taste, for sure, but every page is just a little gemmed casket of gleaming lines, and I love it. And the sheer sense of atmosphere!

I remember when I first read this book wondering whether the young Peter Beagle was terrified of old age, weakness, and what some perceive as ugliness. I gathered this particularly from the scene where the Unicorn hears Elli sing the song of old age, and she’s filled with more horror than almost anything in the story (and this is echoed by what happens to her later in the book.) And there are other ways this is touched on throughout the tale. But on reread I see much more appreciation for the gift of growing old too. In fact, it’s considered a curse that one character is physically stuck in his twenties, and a grace when that curse is lifted. And though Molly is angry and broken hearted that the Unicorn didn’t come to her in the innocence of her youth but instead found her in her middle age, full of cares, Molly ultimately finds the greatest joys and meaning in her life at this later age. She is even called beautiful, I think. But I’m getting ahead of the story.  

It seems to me that it is right that the unicorn should find old age and death horrifying, for she was created to be immortal, and is fulfilling her nature. Whereas the humans, who were created mortal, fear aging but ultimately embrace it, and thus learn to fulfill their natures.

It’s Chapter Two, and Schmendrick is with us! One of the two best characters in the book! I am amazed how many sides of his character are actually seen within the first few chapters, though they might be more evident on reread.

I love books that strike me as faintly (or strongly) allegorical by turns, but which are so multi-faceted that nothing in the story can really function as a simple, easily translatable symbol. The parallels are always shifting. We can see profound thoughts in the work if we interpret Schmendrick now as a type of the frustrated creative writer, and now as the soul encountering the divine for the first time, and now as a double sided coin of youth and old age. But he’s not a cardboard character, and any allegorical reading ceases to work if you try to apply it to the whole story. In that respect this book is a little like Tolkien’s work – extremely applicable by various lights, but impossible to draw up a table of who symbolizes what. I suppose that is the kind of story our own lives are.

Speaking of Schmendrick the creative artist, this analogy means a lot to me and makes the part where he tries to open the cage dear to me. I love that he had the keys the whole time but wanted it to be the beautiful spell that got her free.

“You deserve the services of a great wizard, but I’m afraid you’ll have to be glad of the aid of a second-rate pickpocket,” is a dear line to me.

Mommy Fortuna knows Schmendrick and the Unicorn have been conspiring, and probably that they mean to escape, but she seems no more worried about it than she does about the harpy getting free. Is it for the same reason? That she held them captive once and they will always remember it, and that’s her immortality? Or some other reason? Also, the lock speaks in Mommy Fortuna’s voice when Schemndrick steals the key and tries to open the cage.

I love that the string of threats, “YOU BARBED WIRE! YOU PILE OF STONES! […] I’LL CHANGE YOUR HEART INTO GREEN GRASS, AND ALL YOU LOVE INTO A SHEEP! I’LL TURN YOU INTO A BAD POET WITH DREAMS! I’LL SET ALL YOUR TOENAILS GROWING INWARD, YOU MESS WITH ME!” (capitals mine) is answered with, “What are you talking about? You can’t turn cream into butter. I never did like you. You give yourself airs, and you’re not very strong.”

“A bloodshot moon burst out of the clouds, and the unicorn saw her – swollen gold, her streaming hair kindling, the slow, cold wings shaking the cage.” I love it. Some people don’t, but I just love it. It’s indigo prose, not purple, so far as I am concerned. In another story, it might not work. But it does here.

On the whole this book is just masterful, but there are moments when Beagle feels just a little self indulgent in a way that calls attention to itself. The Unicorn telling Arachne, “It’s very attractive, but it’s not art,” on her way to free the Harpy from her cage feels this way to me. So does, “Have a taco,” (which we haven’t reached yet, but it’s one of the few things in this book I sort of hate, so it’s present in my mind.)

[duckprintspress]

How to Edit an Over-Length Story Down to a Specific Word Count

One of the most wonderful things about writing as a hobby is that you never have to worry about the length of your story. You can be as self-indulgent as you want, make your prose the royalist of purples, include every single side story and extra thought that strikes your fancy. It’s your story, with no limits, and you can proceed with it as you wish.

When transitioning from casual writing to a more professional writing milieu, this changes. If you want to publish, odds are, you’ll need to write to a word count. If a flash fiction serial says, “1,000 words or less,” your story can’t be 1,025 and still qualify. If a website says, “we accept novellas ranging from 20,000 to 40,000 words,” your story will need to fall into that window. Even when you consider novel-length works, stories are expected to be a certain word count to fit neatly into specific genres - romance is usually around 80,000 words, young adult usually 50,000 to 80,000, debut novels usually have to be 100,000 words or less regardless of genre, etc. If you self-publish or work with a small press, you may be able to get away with breaking these “rules,” but it’s still worthwhile to learn to read your own writing critically with length in mind and learn to recognize what you do and do not need to make your story work - and then, if length isn’t an issue in your publishing setting, you can always decide after figuring out what’s non-essential to just keep everything anyway.

If you’re writing for fun? You literally never have to worry about your word count (well, except for sometimes in specific challenges that have minimum and/or maximum word counts), and as such, this post is probably not for you.

But, if you’re used to writing in the “throw in everything and the kitchen sink” way that’s common in fandom fanfiction circles, and you’re trying to transition only to be suddenly confronted with the reality that you’ve written 6,000 words for a short story project with a maximum word count of 5,000...well, we at Duck Prints Press have been there, we are in fact there right now, as we finish our stories for our upcoming anthology Add Magic to Taste and many of us wrote first drafts that were well over the maximum word count.

So, based on our experiences, here are our suggestions on approaches to help your story shorter...without losing the story you wanted to tell!

Cut weasel words (we wrote a whole post to help you learn how to do that!) such as unnecessary adverbs and adjectives, the “was ~ing” sentence structure, redundant time words such as “a moment later,” and many others.

When reviewing dialog, keep an eye out for “uh,” “er,” “I mean,” “well,” and other casual extra words. A small amount of that kind of language usage can make dialog more realistic, but a little goes a long way, and often a fair number of words can be removed by cutting these words, without negatively impacting your story at all.

Active voice almost always uses fewer words than passive voice, so try to use active voice more (but don’t forget that passive voice is important for varying up your sentence structures and keeping your story interesting, so don’t only write in active voice!).

Look for places where you can replace phrases with single words that mean the same thing. You can often save a lot of words by switching out phrases like “come back” for “return” and seeking out other places where one word can do the work of many.

Cut sentences that add atmosphere but don't forward the plot or grow your characters. (Obviously, use your judgement. Don't cut ALL the flavor, but start by going - I’ve got two sentences that are mostly flavor text - which adds more? And then delete the other, or combine them into one shorter sentence.)

Remove superfluous dialog tags. If it’s clear who’s talking, especially if it’s a conversation between only two people, you can cut all the he saids, she saids.

Look for places where you've written repetitively - at the most basic level, “ ‘hahaha,’ he laughed,” is an example, but repetition is often more subtle, like instances where you give information in once sentence, and then rephrase part or all of that sentence in the next one - it’s better to poke at the two sentences until you think of an effective, and more concise, way to make them into only one sentence. This also goes for scenes - if you’ve got two scenes that tend towards accomplishing the same plot-related goal, consider combining them into one scene.

Have a reason for every sentence, and even every sentence clause (as in, every comma insertion, every part of the sentence, every em dashed inclusion, that kind of thing). Ask yourself - what function does this serve? Have I met that function somewhere else? If it serves no function, or if it’s duplicative, consider cutting it. Or, the answer may be “none,” and you may choose to save it anyway - because it adds flavor, or is very in character for your PoV person, or any of a number of reasons. But if you’re saving it, make sure you’ve done so intentionally. It's important to be aware of what you're trying to do with your words, or else how can you recognize what to cut, and what not to cut?

Likewise, have a reason for every scene. They should all move the story along - whatever the story is, it doesn’t have to be “the end of the world,” your story can be simple and straightforward and sequential...but if you’re working to a word count, your scenes should still forward the story toward that end point. If the scene doesn’t contribute...you may not need them, or you may be able to fold it in with another scene, as suggested in item 6.

Review the worldbuilding you’ve included, and consider what you’re trying to accomplish with your story. A bit of worldbuilding outside of the bare essentials makes a story feel fleshed out, but again, a little can go a long way. If you’ve got lots of “fun” worldbuilding bits that don’t actually forward your plot and aren’t relevant to your characters, cut them. You can always put them as extras in your blog later, but they’ll just make your story clunky if you have a lot of them.

Beware of info-dumps. Often finding a more natural way to integrate that information - showing instead of telling in bits throughout the story - can help reduce word count.

Alternatively - if you over-show, and never tell, this will vastly increase your word count, so consider if there are any places in your story where you can gloss over the details in favor of a shorter more “tell-y” description. You don’t need to go into a minute description of every smile and laugh - sometimes it’s fine to just say, “she was happy” or “she frowned” without going into a long description of their reaction that makes the reader infer that they were happy. (Anyone who unconditionally says “show, don’t tell,” is giving you bad writing advice. It’s much more important to learn to recognize when showing is more appropriate, and when telling is more appropriate, because no story will function as a cohesive whole if it’s all one or all the other.)

If you’ve got long paragraphs, they’re often prime places to look for entire sentences to cut. Read them critically and consider what’s actually helping your story instead of just adding word count chonk.

Try reading some or all of the dialog out loud; if it gets boring, repetitive, or unnecessary, end your scene wherever you start to lose interest, and cut the dialog that came after. If necessary, add a sentence or two of description at the end to make sure the transition is abrupt, but honestly, you often won’t even need to do so - scenes that end at the final punchy point in a discussion often work very well.

Create a specific goal for a scene or chapter. Maybe it’s revealing a specific piece of information, or having a character discover a specific thing, or having a specific unexpected event occur, but, whatever it is, make sure you can say, “this scene/chapter is supposed to accomplish this.” Once you know what you’re trying to do, check if the scene met that goal, make any necessary changes to ensure it does, and cut things that don’t help the scene meet that goal.

Building on the previous one, you can do the same thing, but for your entire story. Starting from the beginning, re-outline the story scene-by-scene and/or chapter-by-chapter, picking out what the main “beats” and most important themes are, and then re-read your draft and make sure you’re hitting those clearly. Consider cutting out the pieces of your story that don’t contribute to those, and definitely cut the pieces that distract from those key moments (unless, of course, the distraction is the point.)

Re-read a section you think could be cut and see if any sentences snag your attention. Poke at that bit until you figure out why - often, it’s because the sentence is unnecessary, poorly worded, unclear, or otherwise superfluous. You can often rewrite the sentence to be clearer, or cut the sentence completely without negatively impacting your work.

Be prepared to cut your darlings; even if you love a sentence or dialog exchange or paragraph, if you are working to a strict word count and it doesn't add anything, it may have to go, and that's okay...even though yes, it will hurt, always, no matter how experienced a writer you are. (Tip? Save your original draft, and/or make a new word doc where you safely tuck your darlings in for the future. Second tip? If you really, really love it...find a way to save it, but understand that to do so, you’ll have to cut something else. It’s often wise to pick one or two favorites and sacrifice the rest to save the best ones. We are not saying “always cut your darlings.” That is terrible writing advice. Don’t always cut your darlings. Writing, and reading your own writing, should bring you joy, even when you’re doing it professionally.)

If you’re having trouble recognizing what in your own work CAN be cut, try implementing the above strategies in different places - cut things, and then re-read, and see how it works, and if it works at all. Sometimes, you’ll realize...you didn’t need any of what you cut. Other times, you’ll realize...it no longer feels like the story you were trying to tell. Fiddle with it until you figure out what you need for it to still feel like your story, and practice that kind of cutting until you get better at recognizing what can and can’t go without having to do as much tweaking.

Lastly...along the lines of the previous...understand that sometimes, cutting your story down to a certain word count will just be impossible. Some stories simply can’t be made very short, and others simply can’t be told at length. If you’re really struggling, it’s important to consider that your story just...isn’t going to work at that word count. And that’s okay. Go back to the drawing board, and try again - you’ll also get better at learning what stories you can tell, in your style, using your own writing voice, at different word counts. It’s not something you’ll just know how to do - that kind of estimating is a skill, just like all other writing abilities.

As with all our writing advice - there’s no one way to tackle cutting stories for length, and also, which of these strategies is most appropriate will depend on what kind of story you’re writing, how much over-length it is, what your target market is, your characters, and your personal writing style. Try different ones, and see which work for you - the most important aspect is to learn to read your own writing critically enough that you are able to recognize what you can cut, and then from that standpoint, use your expertise to decide what you should cut, which is definitely not always the same thing. Lots of details can be cut - but a story with all of the flavor and individuality removed should never be your goal.

Contributions to this post were made by @unforth, @jhoomwrites, @alecjmarsh, @shealynn88, @foxymoley, @willablythe, and @owlishintergalactic, and their input has been used with their knowledge and explicit permission. Thanks, everyone, for helping us consider different ways to shorten stories!

[hanazou]

So um .. I just recently found your blog and even though you haven't written that much but you really have a unique writing style and I'm in love 🥺💞 .

So may I please request fyodor and/or sigma headcanons or scenario (whatever you're feeling comfortable with ) being on a date with their s/o and getting lost somewhere trying to find their way back home ? I mean it's just so adorable and been on my mind for a while.

And thank you 💚

𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭.

— how did you end up here? getting lost wasn't on the agenda.

Book : Fyodor | Sigma

Genre : Fluff with romance or implied romance

Category: Scenario

Word count : 0.8K | 1K

Bookshelves : Leatherbound

Note : I love this request! Thank you so, SO much for requesting Fyodor and Sigma! Truthfully these are far from being my best works, but I hope you enjoy this, love! It took me a while since I had to make sure these are in-character :") Thank you for the patience!

I hope you enjoy these! 💛

“This is quite the view,” Fyodor smiles to himself, fingers treading around his chin like creeping vines. “Yokohama has a sophistication to it after all.”

“Fyodor,” His name from your mouth rolls out slower compared to the cars on the road near you both to give the impression that your patience is unscathed. “We’re lost.”

Yokohama isn’t too huge of a prefecture for you and Fyodor to get lost in while exploring for the sake of the upcoming Cannibalism scheme, but since you both insist to check out even the smallest of details because one can never be too perfect, exploring took the whole day. Outlining the landmarks on a map would have sufficed, but you and Fyodor agreed that travelling in first-person is more helpful in discovering things that can trick the enemies, and that agreement led you travelling together.

It wasn’t hard for someone to get drunk in this cozy atmosphere and forget why they were here, especially if they’re with someone they trust and are fond of. For you, that person happens to be this pale and sickly genius.

The foreign building structures, the bustling unfamiliar crowd, the compact scent from street food vendors you've never tasted, and the crunch of dry leaves under your feet, they are all different from home, but the striking allure and exoticness are undeniable. Hence, you and Fyodor lost track of time and direction. Not to mention his needy eye for aesthetic slows down the pace.

You don’t want to say this aloud, but this atmosphere and mood, doesn’t it feel like going on a date?

Never mind that—you both were having too much fun brainstorming for ideas, too many alleys to check out, too many manholes to note, too many dead ends to utilize for you to recognize both of you have strayed off the planned route. On the bright side is, Fyodor found the ideal, secluded, dead-end alley for him to station his sniper to attack a certain detective, but the bad side is, while chatting with him about how and where to allocate your pawns, you and Fyodor didn’t pay attention to where you’re going.

Where in Yokohama are you now?

Neither of you planned to walk this far around the prefecture, so you can’t pinpoint your position on the map inside your pocket.

“I have great confidence in my memory,” Fyodor gazes around. “I can find our way back.”

“Then why are we still here after—” you look at your watch. “—half an hour?”

“I thought that while having the opportunity, we should take our time to know this area better. There’s artistry in any form of structure even in those we will decimate soon.” He pivots his head to you. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

He sounds like he’s beating around the bush. He won’t admit he got both of you lost.

You hum. “You still don’t know where we are,” You bring the focus back to your point. “Let me take my turn navigating our way back home,” You reach for the minimap in your pocket. “You’ve had your share of getting us lost.”

You wonder how in the world a prodigy like Fyodor affords to get lost. You consider the possibility of him being distracted by this little trip (that feels like a date) itself since you caught yourself doing that, but you shake off that thought. You ought to stop being delusional.

“As you wish,” He smiles at your proposal. “But only because you insist.”

You make wild guesses of your current position by observing the buildings and shops, try to figure out where you are on the map, and take the lead in guiding yourself and Fyodor back. He follows your headship without any protests, taking the same turn as you elegantly. 

You catch Fyodor also observing the map with you while he matches his legs in coordination with yours. His eyes turn to you and his raised dark brows ask you why you’re staring at him.

“Is it because you’re not confident I can take us back that you’re watching the map with such focus?” You bait, half smiling.

You want him to admit that he trusts you. It’s a pleasant feeling, hearing someone like him value your judgement.

He made a soft chortle from his chest. “Impossible, my dear,”  Fyodor says.

He stops in his tracks.

The sudden halt makes you pause too, and you lower the map to look at his whole face.

You jolt when he takes your hand with his icy pale fingers, guiding your palm to rest on his chest. His coolness mixing with your warmth creates a perfect state of equilibrium that mirrors both your difference yet similarity with him.

“I simply enjoy our mundane little detour.” His voice's vibration from his chest rumbles your hand. His smile is like cotton, but the sharp violet in his eyes holds power over you. “Allow my heartbeat to be the witness of honesty in my words.”

His heartbeat thumps in an orderly calming pattern, his chilly skin still sheathing your hand to press it against his chest.

Ah.

So maybe getting lost isn’t so bad after all.

Your eyebrows quirk when you notice the same scenery outside the car window, forehead matted against the cold glass. “Are you sure this is the right way?”

Sigma’s lips tense down, still staring at the road ahead. “Uhm, yes?” His eyes dart at you for one second.

The two of you, Sigma and yourself, are on your way to visit the last potential location for Sky Casino to expand its branch down below. He demonstrated more than enough faith in your judgement when he invited you to travel to the cities under the sky, offering you a ride in his lavish car. If it were with another person, you wouldn’t see too much into this situation. But with Sigma, it’s a whole different story.

It was the having a luncheon together in a prestigious restaurant of a five star resort with him ordering the best dish for you with a warm smile when he described your order to the waiter. Another being his gentlemanly mannerism, he made a shallow bow when allowing you into his car and opened the door for you, also holding your hand as you got in. The hospitality and elegance from his demeanour excites your heartbeat.

In Sky Casino, he may be your employer and you his employee, but with just the two of you, he makes you feel like the most treasured royalty.

Sigma clears his throat, his fist in front of his mouth while the other around the steering wheel. “I’m certain I’ve memorized every route for the casino’s potential branches.” He glances at the note on the dashboard where the addresses are.

You raise your eyebrows seeing a tower ahead. “And I’m certain we’ve passed that tower in front of us at least twice.”

The expression Sigma makes is made of mild surprise, frustration, and gloom.

"Let's face it," You slouch down your seat. "We're lost."

Sigma repeatedly looks from the scribbled map on the dashboard to the road back and forth, fingers squeezing the wheel in uneasiness. “I could’ve sworn we took the right turn this time…”

Your shoulders deflate at the expression Sigma makes. You feel bad for putting it bluntly. “How about I drive while asking for directions from the locals? You must be tired since we’ve been travelling for hours.”

His head turns swiftly at you, long dual-coloured hair whishing. “You know where we are?” He asks before quickly turning his sight back to the road, stealing glances.

“Not exactly, but I’m familiar with the local dialect and I can ask for directions easily.”

The hesitation and disappointment are still evident on Sigma’s face. You purse your lips, hesitant in how to phrase your next words. “Employers employ people to be assisted with the workload and to have someone to share concerns with. I’m not here just for you to treat me like royalty, I’m also here to assist you.”

Sigma huffs a smile, taking chances to look at your face now and then. “Do you mind the treatment for a royalty?”

“No.” You deny a little too fast. You clear your throat, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Absolutely not,” You speak slower. “But even royalties have to give back, right?”

He fails to hide his laughter. He sounds so free, unrestrained, and possibly the most relaxed that day, making your cheeks swell with a prideful smile. As long as he gets to laugh, you don't mind sounding silly. “By asking for directions while talking using a local dialect?” He asks.

Sigma lightly giggles. “Alright, you win.” He slows down the car, eyeing the rear mirror to make a quick stop at the side of the road. “I’m afraid to crash us from feeling exhausted anyways.”

He makes a parallel park and the car comes to a full stop, engine still smoothly running and vibrating the interior.

You ruffle his silky dual-coloured hair as smooth as the leather seat. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” You say, tinting his cheeks pink. “Allow me to treat you like royalty from now on.”

When you retract your hand, Sigma’s head automatically follows with the yearning to get more touch.

Your eyes enlarge and so does his. He whirls away, hands hiding his face. Loud and uncontrolled laughter erupts from your belly despite you covering your mouth to tone it down. You want to stop—but your chest keeps heaving out the joy, raising your shoulders to your ears.

Sigma shrinks in embarrassment, his long hair curtaining his face as he buries his head to his knees. He looks like a tulip in that driver’s seat. With his fair pale skin, even from your distance you can see the red on his face. “Please don’t tell anyone about it…” His voice can be barely distinguished from your untamed laugh.

“The secret’s safe with me.” You wipe a tear as your laughter slows down. You exhale a wide smile, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Alright, let’s switch now before the sun sets.”

“Wait!” Sigma springs out from his position and hurries his hand to land on yours before you open your door. You tilt your head, and he responds with “Don’t open the door yet.”

He dashes out and jogs to get to your side of the car. He opens your door and stands on the side with a shallow bow, his empty hand offered to you. You stifle a giggle when you accept his hand that gently helps you up until you fully stand outside.

You grin for the umpteenth time at Sigma’s chivalry that reminds you of the demonstration of romance during the regency era. It’s simple things like this that boosts your confidence and comfort around him. You can definitely get used to this.

That is until Sigma’s bow deepens so his lips kiss your hand.

You tense. You expected a normal escort when stepping out. The unforeseen princely kiss and his smile send you on haywire—why are you even there? Why did you go all this way into an unfamiliar city? Just to get kissed? To have him act like your Prince? Why is he even kissing you?

“Even without disembarking a journey I still get lost in your touch and laughter.” He straightens his body, elevating your hand to stay on his lips and chin. You feel his breath on your skin. “Thank you for giving me the honour of getting lost with you.”

Then you remember.

You're there to be with him.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

[wizardouxie]

PANTONE 2046 C

Genre: Fluff, #ZoeAppreciationWeek

Pairing: Zouxie

Summary: The Pink Hair Origin Story (alternatively also the Blue Hair Origin Story)

Word Count: 2788

Author's Note: First day of Zoe Appreciation Week! Wanted to participate so have this not so little one shot to showcase our lovely pink haired witch <3

"Wow, the dye came out really nicely," Zoe murmurs as Douxie exits the bathroom, his hair freshly blown dry -- from its tips to the full bangs dipped in a deep yet striking blue. He smiles widely at the quiet compliment and waves over to Archie.

"How does it look Arch?" they ask, though the answer is pretty clear, if Archie's fond gaze is anything to go by. The familiar flies in to nuzzle his face.

"Dashing as ever, Douxie."

Zoe leans back into the couch with content, taking in the beautiful sight that is her best friend. She did really good. The faint buzz of adrenaline lingers on the pads of her fingers. Right, she forgot. That was her first time.

"Are. You. Crazy? I've never even dyed hair before!" the natural brown haired girl hissed. She begrudgingly wiped the bubblegum that had exploded over her lips -- a result from the initial shock when Douxie first made his request. Granted, she felt honored that they would come to her before anyone else, but still! She can't risk ruining his hair, she doesn't have experience, plus the hair salon could totally do it better and-

"I'd rather it be you than anyone else," the wizard confirmed firmly. Zoe turned to the familiar. Surely the cat who lived with this stubborn kid could knock some sense into them. Archie could only provide a shrug in response.

"They're pretty sure about this."

She groaned.

"Fine, fine! But give me a few days unless you want me to pick out the wrong dye and end up with neon green."

[ 1 Week Later ]

Zoe couldn't keep track of just how many hair channels and blogs she'd gone through. She mimicked their hand movements, using cheap wigs and mannequin heads to simulate the experience. Through it all, one voice echoed the same message: "You can't mess this up."

She bought all the necessary tools. Gloves, hair clips, bleach, foil, just to name a few. Oh, and of course the dye -- though you'll be surprised how one can forget the simplest things while getting caught up in trying to memorize everything. Blue, Douxie had asked for. But what kind of blue? Sky blue? Cobalt? Midnight? Which one? She pinched the bridge of her nose before angrily texting the wizard. It went a little something like this:

DOUX: go with whatever you think will look good! i'm fine with anything tbh :]

ZOE: i Hate you so much

DOUX: ??? WHY

ZOE: IDK SHIT ABOUT HAIR DYE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT LOOKS GOOD

DOUX: let's talk about this in person before you electrocute your phone again

ZOE: you won't let me live that down will you

DOUX: you know me so well ;)

She shoved the phone back in her pocket. There's no way she was actually doing this for him.

She was.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" she asked for what would be around the 73rd time. Douxie pulled his face down with both hands.

"Ugh, the answer is still yes, love. I'm not asking you to dye the whole thing, just the front part, bangs and sides."

She rolls her eyes at the nickname and smacks the clean brush against his head. She smiles at the little 'ow' that Douxie lets out with a pout. Hm, cute.

"Alright, but don't start moping around if it doesn't come out the way you wanted it!"

"Nothing that a little magic can't fix if it gets to that point. Which I hardly believe it will."

And now here they are.

Douxie crashes on the couch with Zoe, slinging an arm over her shoulders. She raises an eyebrow at the sudden physical touch, but it's never unwelcome. Not when it comes to him.

"You know of all human creations, I gotta say, this one really takes the cake," they start and Zoe snorts.

"You say that about nearly everything."

"Can you blame me?"

She looks at them and no, she really can't. In fact, she finds herself agreeing with him. He looks... really nice. A faint blush spreads over her face; not that it is noticeable by any means -- the two of them happen to have done this dying process starting from the evening to night, so the dim lights in her home do little to highlight her features. This is still her Douxie, lovable guitarist and wizard nerd who cares about everyone. Yet there was something about the hair dye that changed things up a bit. Something good, naturally.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, doing whatever is usually available. Sometimes it's texting, scrolling through social media, or listening to music. Other times it's zoning off and reminiscing about the past.

Zoe decides to go for her phone, unconscious of the way her hand finds its way into Douxie's hair, carding through the locks and untangling them with nimble fingers. It's peaceful. Maybe even a little too peaceful, considering the two of them are adrenaline junkies.

"Douxie, I can hear you thinking..." she begins. It's a common way to start the conversation between them, and oftentimes she's right.

He turns around, her hand still in his hair, but enough to meet her eyes. Their own eyes look serious and her heart sinks. Were they not happy with their hair?

The answer is quite the opposite.

"You ever considered dying your hair too? Maybe we can match."

The untangling stops.

And then the tugging starts.

"Ow ow ow-"

"Hisirdoux Casperan you are a menace to society."

She does though. She considers it for weeks. Of course, Douxie doesn't push; it's her hair at the end of the day, she can do whatever she likes. But after seeing how well she did with the wizard, she kinda felt excited. She definitely can't forget the exhilaration she felt when she saw people compliment Douxie at Benoit's or at the GDT book store. Her heart started beating faster when he looked back at her with a proud smile on his face-- damn that wizard, they told the others that she did it for them, didn't they?

After a few days, a young girl in a cap comes up to her at the record store. Probably from Arcadia High, if her backpack stacked with books is any indication.

"Hi! I'm Claire. Claire Nuñez," the girl starts. Zoe raises an eyebrow in interest.

"Hey Claire. What can I get you?" she asks, raising a flask to her lips. There's no water. Damn.

"Um, it's not really a standard request, but um, I was wondering if you could dye my hair?"

Zoe chokes on her water. Dye her what?

"Kid, are you new here? This is a records store. I can give you the direction to the hair salon it's really not that far."

"No, no, no! It's just, this guy got their hair dyed and I asked if he did it himself and they said you did it for them so I came to you. It's nothing too big! Just a strand really," Claire rambles. She gestures to the invisible front of her hair, currently tucked away behind the cap, outlining it with her fingers. The hedge witch groans.

"That would be Douxie. Now, here's the thing I don't do this for just anyone. Douxie happens to be a close friend so what I did was a little gift for him. I don't even know you, so what do I get out of this?"

Claire pales.

"Uh, $20? I know a full head of hair costs way more but like I said, just a strand..."

Zoe's stomach rumbles in response. She had $5 currently in her wallet which could buy a snack at most. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Ugh, you're lucky I'm hungry. Catch me after my shift is done okay? And I only got one color on me, which is blue, you good with that? Otherwise bring your own."

"Yes of course, of course! Thank you so much."

"Yeah, yeah, now scram if you're not here to buy anything."

"Oh actually, I was wondering if you had anything Papa Skull released recently!"

Curse this girl and her good taste in music.

[ 45 minutes later; 2:00 PM ]

"Thank you for doing this by the way," Claire starts. Zoe waves it off. She doesn't really know why she agreed to this. Well kind of. She wanted to eat. But besides that, she also was curious to see if she could satisfy another "customer". Hair dying was never a profession she had properly considered and right now? It doesn't hurt to entertain a thought.

"Alright so I have the bleach, you'll need to let that set in and keep that before dying the strand you want. We can even add toner to neutralize the color post bleaching if necessary," she lists off. Claire shakes her head.

"That won't be necessary!"

The girl pulls off her cap and surely enough, there's a light blonde lock, similar to Douxie's, just a little lighter. Zoe's impressed.

"Well that definitely makes my job easier. Especially since this is my second time."

"Wait, second time?"

"You didn't know?"

"No?"

"Of course Douxie leaves that part out. You want out? I'll pay you back the $20 in four days."

"No, I trust you."

Zoe always believed that she had tough and cold demeanor. Clearly she's doing something wrong if people are finding her trustworthy just by looking at one dye job.

"Alright then, here we go! Don't say I didn't warn you," the witch replies. She wraps the cloth around Claire softly, and pulls up the bowl with the dye in it. With a gloved hand she separates the pale strands from the brown ones. The blue will definitely be more prominent here than it would be with Douxie's. Something tells her that Claire wouldn't mind.

From the looks of Claire's surprise, wonder, and delight, she definitely didn't mind.

"It. Looks. So cool! You're really good at this. Maybe you should start a hair dying salon or something," the girl rattles off. Zoe raises a hand.

"I'm already working two part time jobs so... no. But I'm glad you liked it. The blue looks really good. Stands out well."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Claire repeats, putting back her cap on. A feeling of confusion overcomes Zoe.

"Wait, why are you putting your cap back on? Don't you want to show people?"

"Duh, but um, my mom doesn't know about, uh, all this. You know, councilwoman things."

Zoe's mouth drops, the $20 bill crumpled in her hand. So that's why she didn't go to the hair salon. Nuñez is the councilwoman, so she'd know pretty much everyone in the town. And word spreads pretty fast. In summary: Claire would have gotten caught.

"See ya!"

These kids are going to land her in some serious trouble one day.

With a burger and soda in her tray, Zoe takes a seat and pulls out her phone. That Claire girl though, she's sort of inspiring. Adventurous. Not hesitant in taking chances. And you know Zoe, she absolutely loves the thrills of life. Whether it be hunting magical creatures or refining her usually unpredictable magic. The humans tend to have mellow definition of risk taking, in her opinion, but their examples are fun enough in their own way: crossing the speed limit, riding rollercoasters, anything along those lines. The brunette clicks on a familiar contact and begins typing.

ZOE: which color looks good on me

ZOE: don't ask it's for a stupid job thing

DOUX: which job?

ZOE: WHAT PART OF DON'T ASK

ZOE: hex tech, something for employee uniforms

DOUX: i was going to say pink since it brings out your eyes but if it's for uniforms i dunno, light blue?

ZOE: hm interesting

DOUX: you should just work here at the book store it's chill

ZOE: but then i'd have to deal with you

DOUX: now is that really a bad thing?

DOUX: zoe.

Light blue is definitely a no go, Zoe decides. Too much blue dye going around. But pink, hm she could work with that. It's a pretty bold color and it would compliment her eyes as well as her face in general. A win-win for her.

And as for how far she's willing to go? She decides to go all in. No tips, no ombre, just complete bubblegum hair. Of course this takes a few days to gather the guts.

'You can do it Zoe, just go for the bleach,' she thinks to herself. Her hands shake with nervousness and excitement. Frankly, hunting niffins didn't compare to the rush she's feeling right now. She closes her eyes and brings the brush to her hair.

Well, here goes nothing.

She winces as she feels the tingling sensation, but loads of videos have assured that such symptoms were normal. She continues to work at it, using the foil to make sure she doesn't bleach a part of her hair to death. It's long and strenuous, but she knows the results in the few coming weeks would be worth it.

She doesn't have to worry about Douxie finding out thankfully. Turns out these weeks are essential for Merlin's "To-Do" List. Apparently it was to find Camelot?

"The castle he means. Not the actual kingdom. That's been gone for centuries. Anyways, I'll be back once I actually find it. Dunno how I'll do it and it probably will take me and Arch a month or so, haha. Oh! And if my hirers ask you anything, it's a family emergency."

Hm, whatever. A brief thought of Merlin dying his hair neon green amuses her, before she goes back to watching more hair dye videos. They've become a little addicting nowadays. She's amazed at how often people do it. How do they keep their hair so healthy?

It's been four weeks now and Zoe's eyes stare at the pink concoction in her hand. PANTONE 2046 C. This was the shade that stole her heart in the middle of the hair dye aisle. No other color could compare in the slightest. Even the cashier who packaged her order hummed in approval.

"Nice color! Not many go for it, but it'll suit you for sure."

This time her movements are calculated, not clumsy or fear driven like it used to be. One could even say she's getting the hang of this. Her hair over time changes from platinum blonde to a dark matted pink. She lets it sit for a bit, meanwhile focusing on getting the dye out of her hands. This turns out to be harder than she thought and she sighs. Well, maybe another day.

After washing and blow drying her hair, she stands in front of the mirror. The witch staring back at her is almost unrecognizable. As if she were a new person completely. And she liked it.

The blank stare shifts into a grin and she tugs at her own locks. Goddamn. She looks really good.

And well, Douxie's reaction is priceless to say the least.

DOUX: you said to meet up at the museum where are you

DOUX: i swear if you slept in i'll send archie to knock down everything in your apartment

DOUX: ok no i won't but still it's been a month since we last saw each other come on

DOUX: wait a second

DOUX: you're joking

DOUX: IS THAT??? YOU????

DOUX: IN THE PINK

DOUX: oh fuzzbuckets you look stunning

DOUX: Hello this is Archie. You broke Douxie so could you please finish your conversation with whoever it is you're with and come pick him up? Your hair is absolutely lovely by the way.

ZOE: omfg

ZOE: can't take you guys anywhere

The witch smiles at the girls and nods over to a gaping Douxie and his cat before gracefully exiting the conversation. She approaches her friend and pushes his jaw up with her index finger.

"So I'm assuming you're digging the new look hm?" she teases.

"You have no idea," Douxie responds. A pink tint lighter than the shade of her hair blooms across Zoe's face at the expression of adoration in her best friend's eyes. The two of them have been through a lot together, seeing each other grow and change. And this time, it was a really fun and welcome one.

"I might try this again with a different color some time. You wanna join then?"

"Don't have to ask me twice."

It's crazy how all of this came from a chaotic, impulsive research project to help a friend. But honestly Zoe wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe Douxie was right. Of all human creations, this one beats pretty much everything else.

[betweentheracks]

Hello and yay for this blog!!! I have a question :D. If a certain Chinese star were to wear jeans that say "my cock is gluten free" and "pull me down and fuck me," do you think his stylist would have chosen this knowingly, or do you think it's possible they just were like "hmm english words looks good" and didn't bother to look up the meaning? If they did know the meaning, would they have likely informed the star? Very desperate for the thought process behind this Choice hehehe. Thank you!

Ah, I was wondering hoping if I would get asked about those infamous jeans and here you are!

First and foremost; the following is all speculation from my experiences in the business and is wholly subjective. 

It isn’t impossible that they weren’t aware of what was written on the jeans, but it also isn’t all that likely either. When you pull up these jeans on the Dsquared2 site there’s a listing of what is doodled and written on the jeans and it’s not something that would be overlooked by neither stylist nor client. 

That said, Yibo does know some English and while he may not have known these words exactly, there’s more than enough ways of discerning their meaning. I would also bet half a year of my salary that his stylist would have known what was written here, or any number of personnel that works with them for that matter. I would also take into consideration that even if the jeans had slipped by all these people that may or may not have had the ability to see what was all over them, some of Yibo’s fellow idols should have (looking at you specifically, Seungyoun).

Setting this aside for a moment, I’ll go into who I think is responsible for the jeans being worn to begin with - Wang Yibo himself is the likely culprit. 

Why do I think this? There’s many reasons but most are inconsequential while two points frame the scene as I see it. 

This is markedly not a choice a stylist would make. Stylists, at the end of it all, are employees and therefore it shouldn’t be too surprising to know we have rules in place we must abide no matter if we are working outside the purview of the company we are housed under. Even when we work exclusively with a client, we are still taking the name of our company as well as our own with us and are operating as an extension of the brand the company promotes and promises. I don’t know of any company here (and I live in rather free faring place which welcomes eccentricities, mind) that would allow these jeans to be submitted as part of a pitch to either buy or borrow unless they were very specifically in line with a client’s public image and style. Technically these jeans would classify as offensive and profane which means they would invite trouble and cause a stir. While stylists are not associated much with the PR side of things we are still essentially a team playing for the same client - this selection, if gone badly, would be like asking for lightning to strike twice in one place at the same time. If a scandal amounted from them PR would have to handle it and that means the stylist would come under fire for making such a bold and risky choice, most especially with a younger client that thus far didn’t have the sort of image one would think to associate with jeans such as these. 

The second reason is that, from what I can tell, this is in line with Yibo’s personality. He’s very serious about style and engages with it as he does most things; by overtaking it completely and rebranding it to suit him to the point that it makes one wonder if the style wasn’t designed with him in mind. He makes full use of what fashion is all about at it’s core; expression. These jeans in particular would have suited the Yibo of the time he wore them (2018, if I remember right?) as he was trying to break away from the image he held as a pretty boy with demure and soft looks which held the shock value of being in such contrast with his dancing and rapping. He’s mentioned before that he doesn’t really like being “cute/sy” and having to do things in the way of that since it’s not true to who he feels he is. Which, honestly, a lot of idols and stars go through this experience where they no longer wish to be constrained by the persona they play for the public and one of the most impactful means of going about it is to address the styling since it is the focal point of public image. 

The Dsquared2 jeans don’t only say “my cock is gluten free,” there’s actually quite a lot to them and I think it would help if more were aware of it so here’s the description of them on the website: 

D Squared Limited Edition Jeans. Sexy Twist Printed Low Rise. Fun, Evil Boy, Love Sucks, Pull Me Down, Open Me, Unzip, Buttons, Wine Is My Water, Tic Tac Toe, Dean & Dan, Sex, Gluten Free Cock, Hot Patches

The jeans actually say “pull me down and fuck me” right there on the ass, but naturally they can’t list the expletives in the marketing. Not strictly important to this post, but still worth mentioning given the hushed treatment of what the placement of such words could easily imply and the effect that could have had. 

Anyway, the bit that is very telling in my opinion is that “evil boy” tag. I’m not terribly certain due to having never been fortunate enough to work with these jeans myself and the internet only has so many pictures from so many angles, but “evil boy” is either written somewhere (which I think is the case since there’s devil horns present as well) or they’re being promoted as such for aesthetic value. Regardless, I am fairly certain this would be the feature which caught Yibo’s eye. It’s on brand for someone seeking to shatter the conceptual ideal of being naive, innocent, youthful, or soft.

The jeans as a whole fit with Yibo’s sense of humor, as I’ve seen it at least. He lost his mind and fell into full laughter and hysterics over a dick joke, not even minding that he was being filmed or anything. He was still laughing about it even after the other hosts had moved beyond it, making them circle back around to it and in turn making it all the more hilarious for him to enjoy. You can see it clearly in the bts footage from the CQL set that he enjoys being mischievous and stirring things up and having a good time. 

This is who he is, I believe, and it makes a lot of sense for him to have made this stylistic choice and then either convince his stylist to let him run with it or change out at the last second. Both of these are possible, though one of them is less probable than the other given how tricky it actually would be to sneak a wardrobe alteration past the many people that make up the staffing roster for any events, and then to be able to change in the limited time frame available between exiting the dressing room to being in the public sphere would be one in a thousand. Much simpler to goad your stylist into being lenient enough to give you free reign over your own styling - we can only hold out and say no when the grounds for it are met, which this wouldn’t have done in all likelihood - and most of the time we build up a good enough relationship and rapport with clients that we end up doting on them a bit and heed their requests when we can.

That’s all from me on this token moment in Yibo’s very stacked fashion history. Thanks for asking!

Furthermore, there’s the third possibility that this wasn’t a styling choice whatsoever. Or at least not one that involved the stylist in any real regard. It is very plausible that this was just Yibo in his own clothes, having dressed down after the main events wound down. I’ve never actually watched to see what that night looked like overall, but from the videos I have seen it looked to me like the actual do had passed and they were all just goofing around and having their own dance competitions and such when he was wearing them. I can’t say for sure that he did or did not have them on for the whole thing or if they were his own self packed casual wear. In which case it would fall back to his studio to tend to since stylists generally don’t hold authority over personal clothing choices and only ever have a hand in it when it is expressly stated in contracts or temporary clauses, and it just isn’t too common anymore. 

Worth a quick mention for means of distinction, here in the US this choice wouldn't have raised many eyebrows no matter if it was chosen by an artist or a stylist. The only reason I feel it necessary to say this is simply because this is not so in China and that alone lends context to the controversy of these jeans. In the scope of conservatism these jeans are outrageous and I think that a stylist would steer clear of utilizing them at all if they value their job. This is why I don't consider it likely at all that Yibo and his stylist collaborated to make use of these jeans as a way to shake away the remnants of his pretty boy aesthetic.

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

Fancy Feathers: An Unexplained Complexity in Evolutionary History

One of the most complex and highly intricate wonders of the flying world owes nothing to DaVinci's studies on mechanical flight, the Wright Brother's pioneering of aviation, or any other human-derived aeronautic technology. The most sophisticated piece of engineering used for flight has its origins in the Age of Dinosaurs and is one of the most common sights in our everyday lives: feathers.

Feathers as We Know Them

Modern-day feathers come in a seemingly infinite variety of sizes, shapes, and textures. Though their diversity is immense, each type is made of beta-keratin, a structural protein found in the skin of both reptiles and birds, and their branching structures have the same basic parts. The main shaft is composed of a hollow barbless base, known as the calamus or quill, and a central shaft, called the rachis. The rachis branches into main barbs and they branch even further into barbules.

The variety of feathers comes from small modifications to this basic branching structure to serve different functions. Feathers fall into a few general categories, which will be briefly describe here, and many more specific subcategories.

Bristles have a simple, stiff, and tapered rachis with few barbs. They are usually found on a bird’s head around their mouth, nostrils, and eyelids. Some experts think they are for protection much like eyelashes, others believe they serve a sensory function as evidenced by the nerve endings found at their base, and many support both theories.

Filoplumes are also simple and mostly bare of barbs except a tuft at the tip. They are found near contour feathers. Given their placement and the presence of unmyelinated nerve fibers, which are those that support peripheral sensory functions in their base, filoplumes act like whiskers by sensing the position of contour feathers.

Semiplume and down feathers are mostly hidden underneath outer feathers. Their loose branching structures appears fluffy and is highly effective for insulation.

Contour feathers include those that cover the surface of the bird. As their name suggests, these feathers follow the shape of the body, streamlining and weatherproofing it along the way like overlapping shingles. From the central shaft extends a series of slender barbs, each sprouting smaller barbules that are lined with tiny hooks. When these grasp on to the hooks of neighboring barbules, they create a structural network that is almost weightless yet remarkably strong. As the outer visage, these feathers also support decoration and camouflage.

Contour feathers also include the amazing evolutionary innovations mentioned in the introduction: flight feathers. Flight feathers are long, stiff, asymmetrically shaped, but symmetrically paired feathers on the wings or tail of a bird. They are built for durability, shaped for precision, and combined with musculature to produce the ultimate flying tool. The wing feathers, known as remiges, have uniform windproof surfaces, or vanes, on either side of the central shaft created by the interlocked hooks found on the barbules. These feathers are asymmetric with a shorter, less flexible leading edge that support stability and maneuverability. Similarly structured tail feathers, known as retrices, are arranged in a fan shape that allows for precision steering during flight.

While we can simulate some of these characteristics with our flying technologies, we have yet to create a machine that is as versatile, efficient, and effective as bird feathers in flight. Even more impressive, birds are not stuck with one set of feathers for their whole lives. Damaged or worn feathers can be replaced through the process of molting. During a periodic molt, old feathers are shed and new ones grow in their place keeping birds in top flying shape. You can’t say that about any of our manmade flying machines.

The Question of the Evolution of Feathers

The consensus among paleontologists is that birds, known taxonomically as the class Aves, are a group of maniraptoran theropod dinosaurs. Evidence found in the fossil record suggests that most major lineages of modern birds arose near the end of or right after the Cretaceous period (between 65-60 million years ago). Feathers now exclusively occur in avian dinosaurs (e.g., birds), but that was not always the case. With the discovery of the bird-like dinosaur Archaeopteryx in the 1860s and confirmed with further feathered dinosaur discoveries in the 1990s, feathers have been found on much earlier, non-avian species suggesting that their evolutionary beginnings stem at least as far back as the Jurassic.

Several theories have been explored and subsequently unraveled in recent years regarding the origin of birds and the evolution of feathers. Once the link between birds and reptiles was evidenced, some scientists theorized that birds did not evolve from dinosaurs. Instead, they are related by a distant common ancestor that has yet to be discovered. This theory, however, does not account for the striking similarities between the skeletons of birds and those of the highly feathered theropods.

Others theorized that maybe scales and feathers were both flat because feathers were an elongation of scales with frayed edges that eventually became the feathers we see today. They supposed that this growth over generations could have been prompted as an adaptation for flight. Maybe they helped these reptiles live in tree canopies by aiding gliding, which turned into the capability of flight. Such a “feathers-to-flight” theory would nicely tie up answers to all of the questions posed above and was fairly long-lived. With the discovery of hundreds of feathered, ground-running theropods, however, this theory proved to be discardable. So, too, dinosaurs far removed from theropods and even further removed from birds have been found with feathers that were not used for flight.

The feathers on the earliest non-avian dinosaurs did not look like the modern-day feathers described above. This fact has led to a new line of thinking about the transition from scales to feathers. From what we know from the fossil records, the earliest feathers, sometimes called protofeathers, were small, hollow filaments that appeared more like fuzz than feathers. Studying feathered specimens chronologically, the feathers slowly became more and more complex over time possibly because of an evolutionary impetus. The study of this feather development has prompted a new look into the genomic manipulation of placodes. Integumentary placodes are embryonic structures involved in the development of hair follicles, feathers, and teeth. Recent studies using modern genomic methods to identify feather-associated placodes have demonstrated the ability to turn scales into feathers. By turning key molecular circuits on and off at critical stages of scale development, researchers have been able to stimulate feather-like growths in alligator skin cells.

Though interesting, indeed, and something to keep an eye out for in new studies, none of this research is conclusive. Other studies suggest that convergent evolution might solve some of these riddles or more digging for fossils might be the best option. In any case, there is still much to learn about how the feathered dinosaur that you watch at your birdfeeder or hear outside your window evolved into what it is today.

Jane Thaler is a Gallery Experience Presenter in CMNH’s Life Long Learning Department. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[agent-cupcake]

Beastie and the Bard

Fire Emblem Three Houses - Dimitri x Reader - Chapter 9

Word Count: 11,631

I bet you thought I’d forgotten about this. Nope, not yet. I actually have a fully fleshed out framework for where this story is going with a scene by scene breakdown. You can read the previous chapters on my blog or on AO3

This chapter takes place during the first part of the month before the Battle of Garreg Mach. 

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 1

There was something surreal about sitting in the classroom again, the desks arranged in their neat rows and Professor Byleth facing you all from his usual place. Not even a week had passed since your last class, since your last private conversation with Dimitri, but everything had changed. Peace, whatever dregs had been left of it after everything that had happened, was utterly destroyed. Any illusion of safety behind the old stone walls of the monastery was waved away into smoke. No more laughter, no more fun. The monastery swarmed with word of Emperor Edelgard’s treasonous claims and threats, words weaponized to spread disquiet.

It was almost a relief when Professor Byleth said it, confirming something that everybody already knew. “There is going to be a battle,” he told you all, his voice striking the silent room without any particular cadence. “Scouts report that the Imperial army led by Emperor Edelgard will be here by the end of the moon.”

By the end of the moon. You tried to calculate the days but knew that it wasn’t any more than three weeks. Less, actually.  

“So soon?” Ingrid asked, her voice breathy with the shock you felt echoed within yourself.

“This plan has been underway for longer than we could have guessed,” Professor Byleth said. He winced, an odd tick of an expression. “I’m sorry for not seeing this sooner.”

“We don’t blame you, Professor,” Annette said. “Who could have known, right? We all thought...” she trailed off, but there was no point in continuing. You had all thought, you had all been so distracted.

“We can’t let ourselves get caught up on that, Annie,” Mercedes chided.

“You’re right,” Professor Byleth said. “Now, we must prepare for what is to come. Before we begin, does anybody have any questions?”

Nobody said anything. You scanned the faces of those you could see. Dimitri and Dedue sat in front of you, giving you only a profile glimpse of drawn expressions of exhaustion. Of those sitting in your row, nerves cast a sickly pallor over Ashe’s freckled cheeks, painted shadows beneath Annette and Mercedes’ eyes. You wondered how you looked. Tired, probably. You felt as if you hadn’t slept all week.

“Right,” Professor Byleth called, folding his hands behind his back in something akin to parade rest. It was interesting how quickly he had traded a mercenary’s unrefined motions for the more commanding stances of a general. “Dimitri, have you heard any word about what’s happening in Fhirdiad? Seteth’s reports indicate that they’re hesitating in committing any troops to defend Garreg Mach.”

“My uncle is blind,” Dimitri responded with obvious distaste. “He rejects reality. Foolish man.” Although nearly everyone knew of Rufus’s incompetence, Dimitri’s genuine and open scorn for the man, his uncle, was shocking.

“According to my father,” Felix added from behind you, his tone far more measured, “there is opposition within that prevents the regent from committing any men. Not to mention, the Kingdom troops are already spread thin along the western border.”

“Um, excuse me,” Ashe said, nervously raising his hand as if this were a normal class. “There is good reason for that. Professor, may I?”

“Please,” Professor Byleth said, motioning Ashe to continue. He looked from face to face nervously, fidgeting awkwardly in his seat. You were close enough to see the red rimming his eyes, the white skin on his chapped lips. But he spoke and his voice was steady enough, his gaze even as he addressed the class.

“Lord Lonato named me as his heir,” Ashe said, “although I have not yet claimed the title, the Church has allowed me to remain informed about what is happening in his territory. I am… I’m afraid there seems to be some conflict over how the western lords intend to act. After what happened, many of them have been actively rejecting Church aid. Should this become an all-out war-”

“They intend to betray the Church,” Dimitri said, turning and narrowing his eyes at Ashe. “No—to betray their country, is that it?”

“There could be another explanation,” Ashe said.

“I’m sure there is,” Professor Byleth said, motioning to calm them. “What you’re saying is that we can’t count on the western lords for help.”

“Yes,” Ashe answered, his shoulders slumping somewhat. “I’m sorry.”

“I cannot help but wonder if that was the intention,” Dedue said.

“What do you mean?” Byleth asked.

“It is merely speculation,” Dedue began hesitantly, like he was unsure if he should be voicing his opinion. “However, it seemed strange that Lord Lonato would raise a rebellion in the manner he did when he did. Unless he had outside support with considerable sway-”

“You think the Empire is behind Lord Lonato’s betrayal?” Mercedes asked.

“As I said,” Dedue told her, his expression unreadable, “it is merely speculation. But it would explain a great many things. Faerghus is more divided now than ever, it is difficult to believe that is a simple coincidence.”

“Duscur, Lonato, the Church,” Dimitri said, “the infection of the Flame Emperor’s touch has been festering in the Kingdom for far too long. And they would choose to ignore it rather than fighting for their country. Have they no honor?”

“Does any of this matter?” Felix interjected, clearly annoyed. “Even if the Empire did have something to do with the failed rebellion, Lonato is dead now. We can’t waste our time wondering about the motives of a dead man. We need to focus on the problems at hand.”

Dimitri raised his chin imperiously in reaction to that statement, although he didn’t object, turning to face the front again. Ashe sunk back in his chair, pressing his shaking hands flat against the table. Felix’s cruelty was expected at this point, but Dimitri’s was still a fresh wound. You could understand that. You put your hand over Ashe’s, pleased at how steady it was. Your eyes met and you nodded to him, hoping the show of support was enough. His lips quirked in what could almost be counted as a grateful smile.

“About that,” Sylvain said, breaking the tension somewhat with his easy tone. “I received word from my father. He said that he’d send men, but they still won’t get here in time. It’ll take an entire moon for any sizable force to get here. Best case scenario, the Empire forces are delayed, and we can bolster our numbers.” He didn’t continue with the worst-case scenario, but he didn’t need to. The little helpless shrug was more than enough.

Byleth nodded thoughtfully. “This will be a decisive battle, but we’ll be in need of fresh soldiers after the fact no matter which way it goes.”

“Win or lose, you mean,” Felix said dryly.  

“We won’t lose,” Annette said. “With the Professor on our side, we’re definitely going to win. Right?” Her blue eyes jumped from face to face, searching desperately for confirmation of her plea.

“Right,” you agreed, trying to unravel the knot of fear and dread tangling in your stomach. You had to work past that, to remain strong. “No matter what, we can’t let the Empire scare us into submission. If we do that, we might as well give up before the battle even starts.” Could they hear past the conviction in your voice to the weak wobble that laid beneath? At the very least, Annette smiled in return. That was enough.

“We will win,” Dimitri said. “When I have her head in my hands, there will be peace. For all of us.” Even in profile, you could see the sickly smile he wore as he considered that. Compared to any regular expression of joy or pleasure, this was a ghastly, inhuman expression. One you had seen before.

“Dimitri, when was the last time you slept?” Professor Byleth asked, tilting his chin up as he considered the prince.

“Slept? I...” Dimitri replied, his eyes snapping upward and the smile dropping. A moment later, his expression froze over. “That is unimportant.” Even for Professor Byleth, this was dangerous territory.

“What about your last meal?” Professor Byleth pushed.

“That is no concern of yours,” Dimitri said, meeting his eyes evenly. “And assuming it was… I have no appetite.”

“Oh, so is that your plan?” Felix called, his voice dripping scorn. “You’re going to kill yourself before that girl can do it for you?”

“Felix,” Dedue said, a warning in his voice as he turned to scowl at him.

“Shut up, dog. I’m tired of your sycophantic denial,” Felix snapped. “Wake up, boar. If you want to lose your mind, do it on your own time. Right now, there are more important things to worry about.”

“Hm,” Dimitri said in response.

“Felix, calm down,” Ingrid said, her worry clearly etched into a frown.  

“You’re telling me to calm down?” Felix asked her. “Am I the only one who understands what’s at stake here? You want me to spare the feelings of a mad boar… For what? How is pity for him going to save the lives of the people here? What good is compassion against an upcoming war? This is a farce.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Dimitri said, standing with the sharp scraping of wood on stone. “I recommend you all prepare yourselves. We will crush the enemy as soon as they dare to enter through the gates. And as soon as Edelgard draws near... I will have my revenge.”

Dimitri let that ominous threat hold in the still air. Dust motes played in the light streaming in through the windows, disturbing into a frantic swirl of a dance as he left the room with a swish of his blue cape. Dedue followed with a hurried, “Pardon me.” The doors shut behind them, but not before allowing in a chilly draft of cold wintery air. You didn’t even think about it, pushing away from the table with dread settling like ice in your heart.

“You’re going to go after him, aren’t you?” Felix accused, pinning you in place with his glare.

“What?” you asked, feeling the attention settling on you.

“Give me a break,” Felix said, his lip curling back in outright disdain, “you’re not fooling anybody. You’re as bad as that boar’s lapdog, constantly following him around as you do.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said slowly, carefully.

Felix scoffed. “Anybody with a set of eyes can see the truth. If he’s the boar’s lapdog,” he said, nodding towards the door Dedue had just departed through, “then you’re his bitch.”

You recoiled as if he’d physically struck you. It felt like it, almost. Heat built up urgently behind your eyes, ringing with the pulsing stream of blood in your ears. Like the first time you’d been punched in the face, you just felt stunned.

Did he know the extent of your feelings? You supposed they had been transparent from the start; you were an idiot to believe you’d ever fool anyone. All the same, thick shame began to congeal in your gut, rising up like bile. “That’s a terrible thing to say,” you said into the ensuing shocked silence, your voice soft with pained shock, light and airy in order to get past the swell of tears in your throat.

“Felix, that’s enough,” Sylvain said in warning, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. Felix shook off Sylvain’s hand by standing up, glaring at him, too.

“You’re all fools. You think you’re being kind, but all you’re doing is enabling him to destroy himself,” Felix said. “We don’t have a chance of winning if we spend all of our time worrying about a mad boar. Tell me when we’re actually going to discuss something important. Until then, I’ll be training.” He turned on his heel and left without any further objection.

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 2

There weren’t enough knights to do everything that needed to be done in preparing Garreg Mach for the impending battle. That meant that many of the less intensive tasks fell to the students to complete, including evacuation of civilians.

Those who had the resources to do so were able to get out practically on the day of Edelgard’s betrayal, like wildlife that could smell a storm before it broke, people scattered away from the encroaching doom. Others weren’t so fortunate. They were poor, they had families, they had settled their lives in Garreg Mach as surely and firmly as the old stone walls.

Getting those people to safety was absolutely essential and important, but the reality of the matter was grim. The friendly territories of the western kingdom and along the Alliance and Faerghus border were quickly becoming packed with refugees. Not just from Garreg Mach, but from the northern Empire. Asylum seekers from the Imperial recruitment and cruelty.

Most of those people were used to the mild winters in Central Fódlan, so those who were forced further north into the kingdom weren’t accustomed to the harsh conditions. Already, there were rumors of entire camps of refugees left dead from exposure. Or bandits, the Kingdom was still rife with lowlife thugs like Miklan. And that wasn’t even to mention the fact that the civil unrest had already left Faerghus without enough resources over the winter months.

The Alliance wasn’t much better, most of their energy was put into fortifying their own defenses and the little wars of internal conflict. You had never paid much attention to how divided the Alliance was after Duke Riegan’s death. Claude insisted he could get a handle on it, but there was only so much he could do for the time being.

That was the general feeling in Garreg Mach. There was only so much you could do. Only so much anyone could do.

You helped load another family onto an overpacked cart with only the most essential of their possessions. Families of the soldiers got priority, and this caravan was thick with children. Despite the hapless sounds of crying children and soft weeping, there was a hush over the once lively square. A somber farewell.

Having done all you could, you stepped back. You couldn’t help but focus on a young girl towards the back. She had a ghostly white face and clutched a doll to her chest with hands still round and dimpled with baby fat, her mother’s arm draped across those tiny shoulders to keep her from bumping into the strangers they would be traveling with. Tears glazed those sweet baby blues, exhaustion ringed the young mother’s eyes. Her husband, a young soldier who had hung around to say goodbye, would be staying and risking his life. He kissed both girls with the desperate fervor of a man who knew, on some level, that this was goodbye forever.

You wanted to believe that this was the best thing, and it was, but you knew what it was to be displaced at such a young age. You knew what it did to people. You knew what goodbye forever felt like. Selfish as it was, you felt almost as if you could see yourself in those glassy young eyes. It was just all too familiar.

Thinking of your mother, as always, was a painful thing. After realizing the magnitude of the situation, you had sent several letters to her nurses and the man you had left in charge of your Fhirdiad estate to warn them of what was coming. Right now, you held onto the belief that the battle at Garreg Mach would stop the war from invading into Faerghus, which meant that your mother was fine to stay in the country mansion. Besides, you worried about what the city would do to her system, she was already in such a poor state.

But that was a worry for another time.

The horses were kicked into motion and the cart rolled over the smooth cobblestones to the great somewhere else. You hoped the goddess went with them, keeping them safe. When they fully disappeared through the gate into the cloudy winter sunrise, you turned on your heel to return to the monastery. After such a long night of patrolling and a morning of packing up civilians, this was the last thing you wanted to do, but you had already put it off too long.

If you were a good person, or even a good leader, you would have visited your company the moment you had any solid news about what was happening. But you weren’t. You didn’t.

Not all of the soldiers employed by the Church stayed in the monastery, which was reserved primarily for the knights and those with high standing in the militaries of the three countries. In a section wedged between the monastery proper and the town of Garreg Mach, a large camp of barracks had been laid out for all of the other soldiers. The organization of it was a bit strange, considering most of them had separate allegiances and very few of them reported to the same generals. Lady Rhea would be considered their High Marshal in theory, but that was just about the only unifying force. Each battalion of soldiers was employed to serve whichever student Officer they had been assigned, so they worked both as an independent, almost mercenary-like group as well as military personnel.

You had always felt awkward with your own battalion, unsure of how to command or treat them. Lieutenant Avery was basically the leader of your company. There was no question of the men’s loyalty, your authority wasn’t the highest to those men, even if they were technically yours to lead. That had never bothered you, not in the way it should have. Only recently had you begun to feel shame about the fact. So many other students had been found to have traitorous Imperial soldiers under their command, a massive embarrassment to the Church as well as cause for distrust of the students themselves.

The vacancy of the empty barracks segmented for the Imperially sourced companies was hostile. Urgent intensity passed between the men who were still hanging around in thinning groups, performing the first of the day’s chores or hanging around in hunched clusters, creating an atmosphere so oppressive you almost found it hard to breathe. They were in a strange place. Staying pitted them against their country, but to leave would be a betrayal against the Church. Nobody trusted them either way, forcing them to congregate only among themselves. That was what Edelgard had done. Verbal poison, the warfare of the mind, turning everybody against one another. Unifying a country, it seemed, required mass division first.

Your men were placed in the no man’s land at the outside of the Kingdom barracks. Professor Byleth had offered you several companies of Kingdom patriots, but you hadn’t felt drawn to them like you were to Avery’s Wyvern Co. They were fresh soldiers among the large array of companies out for the Church to hire, only having arrived shortly before the year began. In truth, you weren’t even completely certain that they were soldiers to begin with. Avery was a strange person with a mysterious background and you truly believed he was a good man,  but there was something about him that lacked the shine and polish of a soldier.

Not that it mattered much to you. You liked him; you liked the men. Amidst the dark and oppressive atmosphere of the barracks camp, he and his men sat around a fire, eating breakfast, and chatting among themselves.

“Fancy this!” Avery called as you approached, his grin lit up in brushed orange and distorted by the smoke of the dancing flames. “And here I was just wondered what had happened of our dearest Captain.” The complete disregard of proprietary and respect was utterly inappropriate, but it was clear that Avery never meant anything strange by it. What was strange to you was how easy-going he sounded. Compared to the rest of the Garreg Mach, it was like laughter at a funeral. You didn’t mind it. This task was dour enough without a bad atmosphere. “Why don’t you sit?” Avery offered, gesturing to the bench seat by him. “Have you eaten? I’m sure there’s still more...”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you told him, sitting. “I’m… sorry to not have visited sooner. You’re all doing well?”

“Better than you, it looks like,” Wendell, one of the men who had been wounded in the Sealed Forest, told you. After your concern for his injuries following the battle, he seemed just as loyal to you as Avery. “If you don’t mind me saying, of course.”

“Wen,” another man, Euston, scolded dryly. “You can’t say things like that to a young lady.”

“She’s our Captain,” Avery said, lightly hitting Euston across the back of the head. “Show some respect.”

Euston laughed, undeterred. “You’re one to talk, worrying about her like some kind of mother hen.”

“Is it wrong to care? This past moon has been difficult,” Avery said. Everyone sobered up at the reminder. Difficult was probably an understatement. “You were there when the Emperor revealed herself, weren’t you?” Avery asked you. “I heard what happened. The prince-”

“Dimitri’s fine,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “And I…” You meant to say that you were fine, to reassure them that their captain was steady and sure. But you couldn’t. “That’s actually what I’ve come to talk to you all about. As I’m sure you’re all well aware of by now, there is going to be a battle. The rumors are true. Imperial troops are estimated to arrive by the end of the moon.”  

Avery whistled, a quiet rumble of dissent waving over the men. “That soon? She must have been planning this awhile.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, hating to think of it. While you were carelessly training and falling in love and having your heart broken, she was sowing chaos, arranging a war. “And I’m sorry for neglecting you all. I should have done this sooner.”

“That doesn’t bode well,” Euston said.

“If you wish to leave, you’re free to do so,” you told them, your voice raised as you forced yourself to look from face to face, to not shy away from this task. Every expression you acknowledged was set in various degrees of stony to bemused, as if they couldn’t believe what you were saying. “I’ll personally pay you three moons’ wages… More if you act as an escort for the civilians leaving Garreg Mach. You’ll also get a glowing recommendation for your service thus far.”

“The odds are that grim, eh?” Avery asked. Everyone was watching you, waiting for your answer.

“Um…” you began forcing yourself not to clam up under the pressure. “Yes. A-and no. The chances of victory are… Well, nobody really knows at this point. But even if we win, this is a full… a full-on military assault. Edelgard… Emperor Edelgard means all-out war. The Church is just the beginning. I won’t force anyone to fight, I know that none of you ever signed on for allegiance to the Kingdom, or even the Church.”

That began another wave of grumbling, words you couldn’t quite make out as that information was digested. The fire was dying, but the rising sun illuminated enough for you to see the uncertainty on every face, the doubt. You were confirming things they already knew.

“If there’s going to be a war anyway, where would we go?” Lester asked loudly. He was the other one who was wounded in the Sealed Forest. You didn’t like to think of yourself as buying forgiveness to assuage your guilt for his injury, but you did know he had an affinity for chocolate. “Seems like a victory here is our best bet to avoid that.”

“Yeah,” Euston agreed. “War seems like it would be… annoying. We came to the Church because they give us the easy life. Or, they did before this mess all started.” General assent followed his words, heads nodding.

“I’d never forgive myself if I left you here, Captain,” Wendell said. “I may not care that much for the Kingdom or the Church or anything, but I like you. Never known a noble who was so...” He waved his hand, at a loss for words. “You know… The point is, I’m staying.”

“Wendell…” you said, your voice half choked. “Thank you.”

“So, does anyone want to take up our generous Captain on her offer?” Avery asked. Silence met his question, a resounding answer in its own right. You swallowed down the lump in your throat, hating to feel the pressure of tears at the back of your eyes.

“Thank you. It is… my greatest honor to lead you all,” you said, feeling that the words weren’t enough but knowing it was the best you could do. To them, a company of seasoned men, what were you? A slip of a girl pretending to lead them. And yet, they would follow you.

“When this is all over, you’re gonna owe us all a drink,” Euston said. “I’ve always wanted to try that plum liquor they make in Morfis.”

“When this is over, I’ll owe you all a hundred drinks,” you said. “So you’d better all make it, okay?”

“Yessir,” most of them said in unison, touching forefingers to their brows or giving you half-salutes. You let out a heavy breath, glad to be done with that and feeling far better than you had upon arrival.

“I’ll be off, then,” you said, standing up and stretching. The sun had risen, but the sky was miserably gray and cloudy. One of those days. It seemed like all days were one of those days.

“I’ll walk you back,” Avery said, standing.

“You don’t need t-”

“Come on,” he said without waiting. You waved to the rest, even getting some smiles in return, before hurrying to match his stride.

In a way, you were glad for the company. The tension among the battalion camp was just as uncomfortable now as it had been on the way in, but now people were moving around. There was an endless supply of jobs anymore, always something for someone to do.

“It was good of you to offer that,” Avery said.

“Do you think any of them will accept?” you asked. Nobody had spoken up at the moment, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t in private. You didn’t fault that.

“No, we stick together. No matter what.”

“They’re very loyal to you.”

“Like I said, we stick together,” Avery said. “You never asked what we did before we came to Garreg Mach, or why.”

“I didn’t think it was important,” you responded.

“I can’t tell if you’re too naive or too kind,” Avery said, shooting you a sideways smile. “When you picked us, I was braced for the worst type of brat, that’s what we signed up for. But you’re not that. Sure, you’re incompetent, but I know you mean well.”

The casual jab hurt, but the praise leveled it out. Somewhat. Besides, he was right.

“Even if you were the worst of them, we’d have taken it. It’s like… penance. But you’re not, so I figure I should give you a chance to decide you want men like us following you.”

“I don’t care about your past,” you said.

“We were criminals,” Avery said, acting as if he hadn’t heard you. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his eyes forward and expression schooled into a serious mask. “Damned good ones, too. We all came from villages near the Almyran border, grew up on the backs of wyverns, always dreamed of being accepted into Gonerill’s army. I got my own company before I really realized it; the fight with the Almyrans is pointless. Fighting for fighting’s sake. You lose limbs and lives in what amounts to little more than a game, there’s nothing respectable or sane about it. So, we, my men and I, deserted.”

“Oh,” you said, stunned by the confession.

“After that, we terrorized people, thinking we had some sort of right to do it because at least we weren’t liars like all of the nobility who toss lives away like trash. We only took from the rich and called it justice.” Avery sighed regretfully. “The things we did… the things I did... “

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” you said doubtfully, trying to imagine somebody like smiling Wendell doing what Avery was describing.

“I destroyed people’s lives,” Avery said. “Because of me, children lost their fathers, women lost their husbands... One day I looked at what I had done, what we were doing, and knew that I was damned. I came to the monastery to beg forgiveness, to serve the children who I might have ruined.”

The two of you were approaching the front gate. Cold shivers had crept up your spine, over your arms. Bandits had killed your father, ruined your mother. Ruined you, in a way, even if it was liberation.

But Avery didn’t know that. Besides, it couldn’t have been Avery. To believe in such a coincidence was too awful, too cruel. Avery was a good man, you believed that.

“Now you know who it is that serves you, Captain,” he said, stopping and facing you. He didn’t have the face of a bad man. His skin was leathery and crinkled from too many years in the sun and the line of his nose was an uneven mess from being broken a time or two. He surveyed you with a neutral expression, waiting for your judgment.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said carefully, willing yourself to not become emotional. “I think… I’m not the person to forgive you, but… But it would be really hypocritical of me to judge you. A man I lo―care about quite a bit is in a similar position, looking to the goddess for help and forgiveness, and I… What else is there? As long as you keep trying to be a better person and… Um… I don’t think any less of you. I’m grateful that you trust me.”

Avery measured that response for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Then it is my genuine pleasure to serve under your command.”

“And I’m going to be better,” you told him. “I know I’ve been a poor captain. Most of the time I feel like a child, but I… We can both be better, right?”

“I’d like to think so.” Avery smiled, encouraging you to do the same. “Have a good day, captain. And consider getting some rest”

“I will,” you said. Consider it, at least. Sleep was evasive these days. Besides, there was so much to do. Still, after Avery left, you did take a moment to breathe, to consider what he told you. It didn’t change anything, did it? Yet somehow, you felt more hopeful. And distraught. It seemed the world was insistent that you not let go of your past, throwing it back in your face like this.

But there wasn’t much time for contemplation like that. You hurried back to the monastery, determined to make the most of this ugly gray day.

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 3

Six days had passed since Professor Byleth had called you all together to discuss the state of things. You felt the passing of each hour acutely, the countdown dragging the monastery closer and closer to uncertain ruin. Yet, at the same time, it seemed as if the clock was crawling along, prolonging the nightmare-ish state.  

Felix hadn’t so much as looked at you since that disastrous last confrontation.

Dimitri only occasionally showed up when he was summoned.

And you were silly. Stupid, even. Why you felt the need to volunteer yourself to go get him to come to the meeting today, you didn’t know. He was more likely to listen to Professor Byleth anyway. But you did. Of course you did.

The vaulted space of the cathedral was nearly always filled with those who thought to pray for aid from the Goddess. Devoted and questioning alike gathered up to pray for their souls, to pray for their loved ones, to pray for some measure of comfort. Everywhere buzzed with word of Emperor Edelgard’s proclamations and the size of her forces and the fearsome strength of her military, whispered rumors dripping in like poison along with the prayers.

Dimitri spent a great deal of time in the cathedral. Nobody really knew why, people whispered about it like it was some great mystery that a man half mad would think to reach out to the goddess for guidance, but you thought you understood. Avery’s desire for penance was fresh in your head, and you could remember Dimitri’s words that night in the Goddess Tower, almost like a melody you couldn’t quite shake from your head.

“The goddess just watches over us from above… That is all. No matter how hard someone begs to be saved, she would never so much as offer her hand. And even if she did, we lack the means to reach out and grasp it. That’s how I feel about her.”

And you knew that he was the one most affected by Edelgard’s betrayal, the one suffering the most pain. You kept your promise that you wouldn’t tell anybody of his true connection to the Emperor, but it haunted you. The moment of her mask falling away had cut some integral thread of forced composure that Dimitri had been clinging to as a lifeline, and without it he’d fallen victim to the very worst parts of himself. He spent so much of his time reaching towards the goddess for a lifeline because, despite the brutal killings you had seen him commit, he was weak.

You were weak, too. Although you had a reason to seek him out, your feet took you to him because they always did, they always brought you to him. You were so, terribly weak.

Upon passing through the gate of the cathedral, it was impossible to miss Dimitri. Everybody gave him a wide berth of space when passing, casting him nervous side glances, and whispering to their companions in hushed tones. He stood alone like an exhibit in a museum. Rumors had spread about Dimitri just as quickly as they had about Edelgard. Rumors of madness, of insanity. It was upsetting to hear, heartbreaking that he was viewed as little more than a spectacle, but you shrugged them off. It didn’t matter what people thought, or at least you couldn’t blame them. They were ignorant and afraid, and while Edelgard was still far away, Dimitri was right in front of them.

He, as had become usual, stood in his grand stage of empty space. A position he could occupy for hours without break. Dimitri’s uniform wasn’t as neat as he had usually kept it, and his hair needed to be cut. Your heart softened upon seeing him. A foolish, stupid feeling. Unwanted entirely. You knew that things had changed and could keenly remember the many times he’d snapped at you for doing what you were about to do. Whatever tenderness that had been cultivated within him before now was gone. Withered away like flowers in the frost, a sweet melody played sour on an out of tune lyre.

But you refused to stop, and you especially refused to be frightened of Dimitri, or believe that he would do anything to hurt you.

It was better to stick only to present concerns. Such as the fact that he was muttering to himself again. Words you couldn’t quite hear over the hushed noise of the devout. Dimitri’s lips moved with a rhythm that made it seem like he was speaking to something, someone. The dead, his dead. You had heard him use their names once, addressing people who were long gone and buried. Glenn, father, stepmother. He stopped whenever someone was close enough to pick out details, but you heard them all the same.

Melancholy intermingled with a deep, bone-grinding fear at seeing him like this. Many poems or songs you knew spoke of insanity, but none of their descriptions truly matched the broken man in front of you. They saw the afflicted through the eyes of a romantic. In other words, a lovely lyrical lie. What most of them had in common, however, was an eventual tragedy. With every fiber of your being, you swore to not allow him to become victim to such a fate.

You had failed once. You couldn’t handle another. You were weak.

“Dimitri?” you asked, striding up to him with a level of cheery confidence you weren’t so sure you felt. The eyes of a crowd of outsiders followed you now that you had broken the bubble of space surrounding the prince that frightened them so, watching as if you were approaching a beast in the woods unarmed.

Dimitri didn’t respond, either ignoring you or lost in thought of whatever he’d been muttering about. You would have preferred the former, because at least then he’d still be with you, not sunken down into some dark void that you couldn’t possibly reach him in. Unfortunately, you suspected it was the latter, what with the way his blue eyes were ringed with deep shadow and glazed over. You couldn’t even imagine the last time he must have slept. According to Dedue’s careful vigilance, he spent his days in the cathedral and his nights on the training grounds, throwing himself into combat practice so intensely nobody dared intervene. Not even you.

“Dimitri?” you asked again, a bit louder, daring to reach out a hand to get his attention. The touch startled him, and for a moment you were almost afraid that he was going to strike out. He didn’t, although you could tell by the way his body was coiled and poised that it had been a close thing. But he didn’t, and that was all that mattered.

“What is it?” Dimitri asked in the clipped and cold tone of an accusation. The familiar blue of his eyes was flat when they found focus on your face, his stare without any recognition for your feelings or softness for who you wished you were to him. It hurt, it still hurt. Maybe it would always hurt when he looked at you like that, maybe your heart would never scar over and allow you to recognize that this version of him wasn’t truly who he was. You began to rack your brain for a proper verse about the pain of looking in the eyes of someone you loved and seeing nothing in return but stopped yourself. There was no song or lyric that could explain the piercing ache of such a feeling. With him, with your mother, you knew that so very well.

“The dining hall is serving cheesy Verona stew,” you said.

Dimitri grunted dismissively, turning his face from you. That, of course, was not nearly enough to actually stop you.

“See, I asked, and nobody seemed to know if you’ve eaten in the past few days,” you continued.

He said nothing.

“And I know for a fact that you like cheesy Verona stew.”

Nothing.

“Plus, you won’t be able to fight or anything if you’re starving, so-”

“What, exactly, is it that you want?” Dimitri abruptly snapped, fixing you again with a look you refused to believe was a glare of murderous intent. Despite that firm belief, the expression was threatening enough to push you into taking an unconscious half-step away in physical recoil.

“I was worried-”

“I’m fine,” he insisted in a raised voice. Not shouting, just authoritative. It made your stomach drop anyway. At your reaction, he lowered his voice, shaking his head in a jittery way as his eyes cast downwards, a hand raising so he could press a finger against his temple. The headaches he had once told you of must have reached a new level of agonizing. “As soon as her blood is drained from that treacherous heart, everything will be fine… We’ll be fine... So leave me be.”

Overexposure drained those muttered words of much of the power they used to hold but hearing the man you’d seen nearly break down over death speak so casually of gratuitous violence created its own type of deep-set horror. Not to say that was unexpected. You’d heard him say much worse since he learned of the Flame Emperor’s true identity.

“Okay, I-I’m sorry. The Professor is calling for a council and requests that we all attend. I was thinking that you should eat something beforehand. It might make you feel better, you know?” you explained. “But if you’re not hungry, th-that’s fine. The meeting’s in an hour.”

“I understand,” he snapped, cutting you off.

“We could go together, if you wanted,” you offered.

Dimitri gave you a flat look and for a moment you were sure he was going to shout at you. But he didn’t, which was somehow worse. “I’d rather you leave me alone.”

“You don’t need to be alone. It’s not healthy,” you told him quietly. “Before, you told me that you would talk to someone, that you would… Don’t you remember?”

For a long moment, Dimitri didn’t respond. You had no idea what was going on behind the storm of his eyes, the conflicted dance of anger and pain. “Why must you continue to torture me?” Dimitri finally asked, his voice low and throaty. “None of it meant anything, don’t you understand that? It was not my place to tell you those things. I have but a single purpose, to be distracted was my most grievous error. So leave me be.”

He turned away, once again facing the front of the cathedral.

“Okay,” you agreed, almost inaudible with the way your throat had swollen up. “I’m sorry.” Dimitri’s eyes closed, but he didn’t respond. That might have been for the best. You turned on your heel and left the cathedral, feeling the dozens of eyes track each step, whispering. Always whispering, talking, lying, always, always-

On the bridge, you faced the harsh wintery wind, hoping that the sharp bite of its touch would hide the true reason for your watering eyes and red cheeks. Because you were weak. Because you were in love with a man who was fated for tragedy. Because you knew goodbye forever and there was nothing that you could do about it.

Time ticked on, seconds became minutes, minutes you didn’t have the luxury of wasting. You turned you back to the cathedral and the wind and acknowledged that you had at least done as you were told. Just like a soldier would. Just like a knight.

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 4

Even with war hanging heavy on the horizon, even with your heart heavy and breaking, the mundane chores still had to be done. Until coming to Garreg Mach, you had never so much as thought about doing the dishes. It left your fingers pruning and hands chapped and dry, but the ritual of it felt satisfying. Taking something dirty and making it clean. You and Ingrid stood above the sudsy, steaming basin; your uniform sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

The two of you made some small talk at first, but it was clear to see that she was preoccupied. You’d have loved a distraction from your Dimitri-centered thoughts―and under different circumstances, you might have tried anyway―but there was really nothing to say. Dimitri’s harsh rejection the day prior still burned hot and horrible in your chest. If you thought about it, you’d probably start crying again.

“I feel as if I owe you an apology,” Ingrid finally said as you worked a particularly tough bit of grime from a plate. That brought you up short, looking at the blonde to try and figure out what she was thinking to say that so suddenly.

“An apology?” you repeated after a moment.

“For what Felix said,” Ingrid clarified, her eyes casting down towards the water.

You stiffened at the reminder. Out of everything that had been happening lately, you had almost forgotten about that incident. No, you had willfully been trying to forget about it. “You don’t have to apologize for that,” you told her.

She sighed. “It’s always been up to me to clean up after them. His Highness, Sylvain, and Felix... I tried to talk to him, but he won’t hear it.” Ingrid paused. “He doesn’t mean it. I doubt that’s any consolation, but-”

“I know,” you said, cutting her off.

The Boar’s bitch. Goddess, that was cruel. But it wasn’t even entirely untrue. That was the worst of it, to have something you held as holy pulled out from your heart and exposed for the appraisal of eyes that would defile its sanctity.

“I don’t know the details of what happened between Felix and Dimitri to make him so angry, but it changed him,” Ingrid said, picking up a tin mug to begin washing. “After Duscur… Well, everything changed. Felix used to adore Dimitri. He followed them everywhere like a lost puppy.”

“Them?”

“Dimitri and… And Glenn.” Pain twisted Ingrid’s voice with the name. “He is… was Felix’s older brother.”

“Dimitri’s mentioned him,” you said. Dimitri talked to him, actually. Glenn was one of the dead, a victim of the Duscur Tragedy. From what you had gathered, Glenn had been the knight ideal. And, if you weren’t mistaken, Ingrid’s betrothed. You tried to imagine the girl you knew being promised to any man, but the image just didn’t compute. It was almost as strange as trying to imagine a younger, softer version of Felix.

“Losing him was hard on all of us,” Ingrid continued. “I can’t say I don’t sympathize with Felix’s pain... but that doesn’t excuse what he said.”

“It’s fine,” you said, focusing especially hard on the plate you were scrubbing.

Ingrid didn’t respond to that, although you could feel her eyes jump up to watch you every so often, her mouth opening before closing again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, she said, “I don’t mean to pry, but you and Dimitri…” Your entire body tensed up, shoulders hunching and the silverware you’d been washing slipping back into the basin with a splash. Of course, you’d been waiting for a question like that. But you hadn’t been ready, either. “I know the two of you were close,” Ingrid said, as if she hadn’t noticed your reaction. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I… Well, I suppose I know what it feels like to have your heart broken. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” you told her stiffly, fishing the fork out of the murky water. There was more to be said, the words piling and pooling up on your tongue and ready to spill out, but before you could speak, the pantry door was flung open, a tiny figure emerging.

"Counting all the way up to numbers I don't even know. And more! Flour and sugar and rice and grain galooore-"

"Annette?" you asked, watching her spin on her toes as she closed the door behind her.

"GAH!" With a graceless turn, Annette whirled around, a hand clasped over her mouth and the notepad she was holding crashing to the floor. Recognition flashed through her wide blue eyes after a moment of horrified shock and she lowered that hand to her chest. “Oh, it’s you!” she exclaimed. “You scared me!”

“Sorry...” you responded, exchanging a glance with the equally bewildered Ingrid.

"Oh, well, it’s fine,” she said, trying to play it off. “You didn't… hear anything, did you?"

You were about to lie, mostly to avoid upsetting her, but Ingrid beat you to it. "You were... singing?”

Annette winced, "I can explain! I was taking inventory for Seteth and got very focused and the song just sort of came to me and… and…" She deflated. "I don't suppose you would pretend that you didn't hear that, would you?"

"Why?" Ingrid asked.

"Because… because…" Annette said, flustered. "Because if everyone finds out that I sing to myself they're all going to think I'm that weird girl who makes up stupid songs about counting and food and then they’ll all whisper about me behind my back about how weird and stupid I am!"

"It's not that weird to sing while you work,” you told her.

"Do you?" Ingrid asked, looking at you curiously.

"Well… not around people…" you answered. Everybody in your class knew about your affinity for music on account of that day Sylvain stole your book of songs, but you didn’t advertise the fact that you enjoyed making music, too. Especially not to the knight ideal like Ingrid. Music was impractical.

"See! It is weird!" Annette exclaimed. "Now you're going to tell everyone, and they'll all think I'm a total freak who sings about flour and sugar and-"

"Annette…" Ingrid cut in, frowning in concern.

Annette continued on like she hadn’t heard, her rant getting progressively more distracted, "And they're gonna look at me and laugh and never take me seriously because of the stupid childish songs and-"

"I didn't know you liked music," you said, interrupting her.

Annette blinked, focusing on you. "I don’t really tell people. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

"If it makes you happy, I don't think it's embarrassing," you told her.

"She's right," Ingrid said seriously. "I don't have any interest in music, but the song wasn't that bad."

"That bad…" Annette said, frowning. "So it was still bad. I knew it. Oh, this is just the worst!"

"It wasn't!" you told her quickly. "I liked the melody; did you compose it?"

"Well, yeah," she said, fidgeting with her notepad.

"That's really amazing, Annette,” you said enthusiastically. “I'm no good at writing music."

"Oh, it's not that impressive," she said, waving her hand.

"I'd love it if you could teach me some time," you said. "It might be a nice break from-" you waved your hand around generally, your voice trailing off.

“Well, if you really want to, I guess I wouldn’t mind,” Annette said. “As long as you promise to never, ever tell anybody what you heard today.”

“I promise,” you vowed.

“As do I,” Ingrid said.

“That’s a relief,” Annette said, finally picking up her dropped notepad. “Are you free tonight?”

“I have patrol duty with Ashe,” you replied, frowning. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure! I’ll have to let you know when, though. There’s so much to do.” Annette sighed. “Speaking of which, what was I doing…?”

“Inventory?” Ingrid offered helpfully.

“Oh, right! That!” Annette responded, her trademark bounce returning. “Well, I’d better go, then. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You and Ingrid said goodbye, but Annette was already out of the kitchen. Seconds later, there was a loud crash right outside the door and Annette’s muffled voice demanded to know why there was a box in the way where people were walking. It left your heart feeling oddly light. Everything else could change, but Annette was still a whirlwind mess of drive, clumsiness, and quirk.

“If you have patrol, you should probably get going,” Ingrid said. “I don’t mind finishing up here.”

“Oh, right,” you said, quickly drying off your hands. “I hate being out in the town these days, it’s so empty and creepy.”

“Do you want to switch?” Ingrid asked, raising an eyebrow. “I have guard duty tomorrow at dawn.”

“As enticing as that sounds, I think I’ll pass,” you told her, your face scrunching up at the very idea of it. It was one thing to be cold and miserable at night but being cold and miserable with the memory of your soft, warm bed fresh in your mind was worse.

“I suppose it was worth a try. Be on your guard,” Ingrid told you. “And be safe.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I’ll try.”

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 5

“Ansel’s stories are great!” you insisted, walking side by side with Ashe on your nighttime patrols. With the curfew, there were no other people wandering around, but that wasn’t the only reason for the uncomfortably hollow feeling in Garreg Mach. With each passing day, the small towns that littered the outskirts became ghostly haunts, shops closing up and merchants who sold anything other than weapons and supplies packing up. Outside the realm of his torch, the once lively was a depressing and frightening place. But having company helped. It helped a lot. “I love the characters.”

“I didn’t say they’re bad,” Ashe responded quickly. “But... they’re mostly romance. They shouldn’t be shelved by the stories about knights, someone could accidentally pick one up and have no idea what they’re in for.”

“There are knights and heroes, too,” you pointed out. “Besides, romance is integral to the plots of most hero stories. What’s worth fighting for more than love?”

“You’re starting to sound like Sylvain,” Ashe told you, laughing.

“Don’t you fight for love?” you asked, only slightly defensively. “Love for your country, your family, your friends… Isn’t that why people fight? We’re all driven by passion, don’t you think?”

“Huh… I guess that’s true. But... wait, that wasn’t my point! I-” Ashe’s words abruptly cut off as you turned a corner. This street, a main thoroughfare with some of the few remaining open establishments, was well lit. A crowd of people congregated at the far end. “What’s going on over there?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sight. “Is there some sort of event?” you asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ashe said. “Besides, the curfew...”

“We should go check it out,” you said, all amusement from your conversation going stale and cold. You had a very bad feeling about this.  

Ashe quickly put out the torch, following after you as you approached the crowd. There was a sense of dread in the air. There was a crowd, sure, but their voices weren’t loud enough, no laugher could be heard. It was just tension and raw, crackling energy. Most of the people were soldiers, men and women from other battalions. Some villagers. The entire crowd smelled of urine and liquor and the desperate vinegar of excited sweat. You tried to cut your way into the group, standing on your toes to see what they were all circled around. Nobody paid you any mind, too focused on what was happening to make way.

“Is that… His Highness?” Ashe asked, his voice loud above the noise.

And it was. Standing in the impromptu ring created by the surrounding crowd, Dimitri faced off against five other men. One of them was wearing Imperial fatigues. Another wore clothes you recognized as being an unkempt and dirty Faerghus soldier uniform. All of them had a wild, drunken look and anger and bloodlust.

“-known that your association with that Duscur beast would rub off on you,” the Faerghus soldier was saying. “I refuse to follow a monster into battle, let alone lead my country.”

“I see,” Dimitri replied. Despite the many voices rumbling around the square, his was easy to make out. “You have betrayed your country, trading one monster for another. How does that feel?”

That made the other man wince, but his fury was far more potent. They were ganging up on him, this was an ambush.

“Ashe go get help. Professor Byleth… Guards… anyone! Hurry!” you told him, your voice quivering with urgency. He blinked, his eyes wide and frightened, but nodded.

“I’ll be quick.”

With Ashe running off, you tried to steady yourself with a deep breath, forcing your hands to stop shaking. “Let me through!” you demanded, trying once more to cut your way through the crowd. People shifted, although you took more than one elbow to the ribs, bodies pushing back against you. “On behalf of the Church of Seiros, I demand that you let me through!” That finally worked. Sort of. You broke out into the front of the group, a hand on your sword hilt. “This i-is… an illegal act of violence against the crown prince of Faerghus… Disperse now!” Jumbled and nervous, your words were still able to get the attention of the group of men. Dimitri turned, meeting your eyes for a half-second with a look of surprise. And then his face darkened, his jaw clenching as he looked away.

“What is this?” the Imperial asked mockingly, “Another student? Maybe a friend of yours, crown prince?”

Dimitri said nothing, not even looking at you.

“The guards will be arriving soon!” you threatened.

“Faerghus law allows any Faerghus soldier challenge his superior, nobility and royalty, to a fight,” the soldier said. “It’s up to him if he wishes to accept the terms.”

“What do you say, beast prince?” the Imperial asked. “Do you have any honor left, or have you abandoned that with your humanity?”

“Honor?” Dimitri asked, sounding amused. “Coming from one who wears the colors of the Empire? Tell me, do you act on behalf of that woman?”

“I act for myself,” he responded. “And for justice. My brother was one of the men you slaughtered in the Holy Tomb. I saw his body, creature. You’re no prince, you’re not even a soldier. You’re a monster.”

“And your gang of traitorous vermin?” Dimitri asked. “They agree?”

“Faerghus is better off without you,” the Faerghus soldier said, eliciting sounds of agreement from the others.

“Fine,” Dimitri said. “I accept your challenge.”

“No!” you shouted, lunging forward. Or, attempting to. A man you hadn’t even noticed shot an arm out to keep you from entering the informal circle, pulling you back.

“Don’t interfere,” he said, holding your arms pinned so you couldn’t go for your weapon. His breath was hot and sour on your ear, making you shudder in disgust. “I have money on this fight, girl. Five to one… the pretty boy’s ‘bout to learn a lesson he won’t forget.”

“Dimitri, stop!” you begged. It didn’t even occur to you to be worried for him. Only about what he would do.

The Faerghus soldier went for him first, pulling a knife from his stained coat and lunging at Dimitri with wavering, drunken posture. He was a large guy, the type that expected to win fights based purely on his size and raw strength. Dimitri sidestepped the attack, grabbing the man’s beefy arm as he did to misdirect his momentum and contort the arm behind his back, twisting him around and sending him staggering to the ground.

Dimitri had gotten hold of the knife during the exchange, but he didn’t bother using it. When the large man made to grab Dimitri’s legs, Dimitri kicked him in the chest. Bones crunched. Loudly. Dimitri kicked him again, the choppy strands of his blond hair flipping and falling with the motion.

Despite the shocking display of efficient brutality, the Imperial went into attack. His knuckles glinted with metal as he drew back his fist.

“Watch out!” you called, but the warning was unnecessary. Dimitri whirled around, grabbing the Imperial’s hand before it could make contact and slamming it flat against the side of the building. He drove the knife right below the band of metal ringing the Imperials fingers, pushing it into the grout between brick until the handle was flush to the man’s skin. The Imperial screamed, immediately trying to pull the knife free, but it was stuck. He tried to lash out at Dimitri, but the prince easily ducked beneath the attack.

The other three men bunched in a group, ganging up on Dimitri together. The tallest stood in the center, a short man on his right and a heavy looking guy who’d picked up a broom as a makeshift weapon on his left. All you could see of Dimitri the back of his uniform and the fluttering cape on his shoulder, so brilliant and vividly blue.

Ducking out of the way of the broom’s handle, Dimitri took a fist to the face from the shortest man. Despite the successful blow, the short man was immediately rewarded with a brutal backhand that sent him to the ground with a fleshy kind of crack.

Dimitri didn’t hesitate, throwing his body at the man holding the broom. The wooden handle split into two pieces beneath Dimitri’s gauntleted left hand, his right elbow slamming against the heavy guy’s face while he was distracted by the loss of his weapon. The heavy man’s face immediately exploded in a bright spray of blood, sending him stumbling back and tripping onto the ground, clutching his face desperately.

The tall one tried to attack with a straight right, but Dimitri spun out of the way, swinging the broken piece of broomstick handle in an arc at his head. The wood broke on impact with the guy’s skull. While he was stunned, Dimitri’s fist easily connected with his stomach. He dropped with a heavy “umph” of a groan.

Breathing heavily, Dimitri turned from them, dropping the short length of broomstick handle with a clatter of wood on stone and tossing his sweaty hair from his brow. Blood dripped from his nose, staining the ashy pale of his complexion, dribbling over his chapped lips.

The Imperial was the only one standing, having managed to free himself. You hadn’t seen what he’d done to get out of the trap, but the knife remained in the wall and his hand was in a ruined state, too covered in blood for you to see.

Dimitri faced him, his chest heaving and a gruesome smile on his face. Blood dripped into his mouth, staining his teeth red. With wild eyes, he surveyed his final opponent.

Had Dimitri done this on purpose? Ensured that the Imperial would be the last to face him so he could savor it? Something about the expression on his face made you think that sickening thought. Taking advantage of the way the grip keeping you still had slackened in horror, you stumbled forward.

“Dimitri stop!”  you shouted.

He ignored you, moving towards the last man with the predatory gait of a killer. You didn’t even think about it, lunging at him and wrapping your arms around his middle. Doing that could have killed you, you knew that. His reflexes were faster than you could ever hope to move. But your blood pounded steadily in your ears and your pulse made your throat feel swollen and men you hoped weren’t dead littered the ground. You needed to make him stop.

Somehow, it worked.

“Unhand me,” Dimitri demanded, prying you off of him despite your attempts to hold fast. The violence of it pushed you back several steps, but you managed not to fall. “This Imperial traitor asked for a fair fight. Have I not granted him his wish?”

“You’ve won!” You looked at the glowering Imperial who was wrapping his hand with a ripped piece of shirt. “Yield, please. You can’t fight, your men are down… Please, stop this.”

“No,” he said, pulling the fabric tight with a wince. With that, he swung, his arm arcing clumsily towards Dimitri who easily caught the fist, twisting it with enough force to make the main shout in pain. The movement forced the Imperial to fall forward, but Dimitri caught him with a grip on the front of his uniform, pulling him close.

“Dimitri,” you pled. “You can’t kill him. Please.”

“No? Even though he follows that wretched woman?” Dimitri asked. “Even when he would have gleefully killed me in an honorless fight?”

“Please, just yield and leave. Please,” you begged of the other man. “Dimitri, you’d let him go if he yielded, right?

“This foul creature does not deserve your pity,” he said.

“Please?” you begged again.

“Fine,” Dimitri allowed, his lip curled as he looked at the man. “I’ll let you go free. Provided you deliver a message to your master.”

The Imperial sneered, answering by screwing up his mouth for a second and then spitting. The glob of saliva landed squarely on Dimitri’s cheek. Dimitri accepted it with a cold, empty patience, letting it slide down his face without any reaction. “I’ll accept death before I do something for a beast like you,” the Imperial said.

“Very well, I shall be glad to deliver,” Dimitri responded. “You and your gang of cowards are not the first men I have sent to the Eternal Flames. But you already know that, don’t you? Your face is not even worth remembering. Just as I have forgotten your brother, you too will die a meaningless death.”

A strangled sound of rage left the Imperial’s mouth, his face twisting in genuine hatred as he fought the hold Dimitri had on his uniform. Blood had already soaked through the makeshift bandage on his hand. And Dimitri was going to kill him. That sickening smile was gone, all emotion sapped out. His expression was cold and cruel. The act of killing made him dark. Empty.

“Dimitri!” a familiar voice called, breaking the tense scene apart. The crowd, whatever remained of it, parted for Professor Byleth’s confident stride, his green eyes focused solely on the prince. Ashe hurried behind him; his cheeks colored with a flush of exertion. Dimitri’s grip on the Imperial slackened, some awareness seeping into his eyes. Finally, he wiped the spit from his cheek, catching some of the blood from his nose. It left a rusty streak on his pale skin.

The Imperial took advantage of Dimitri’s distraction. His nails made contact with Dimitri’s face for a second before the prince reacted, throwing him away with unnerving ease. What was left was four distinct and angry short trails of red high on Dimitri’s cheekbone.

“It seems you’ve been spared,” Dimitri called as the man scrambled to get upright. But he had landed poorly, swaying dizzily like he hit his head. “This time.”

“What happened?” Professor Byleth asked you, forcing your attention away from the horrific scene. You cleared your throat, trying to calm your mind.

“They challenged him to a fight,” you said. Byleth’s lips formed a line, but he nodded. “And he accepted.”

“These men were Imperial vermin and traitors,” Dimitri added. “They wished for a chance to take me out and failed.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Vengeance… Vengeance is for the strong. They were too weak to attain it.”

“You didn’t need to accept their challenge,” you told him, belatedly realizing that you were crying. Shaking, too. Trembling so hard you felt it in your bones. “You’re… you’re better than that.”

“Am I?” Dimitri asked. “Tell me, would it be honorable to keep another man from his revenge? I allowed him a fair chance, and he was unable to follow through.”

“Still…” you muttered, looking around at the carnage. Already, guards were surveying the downed men. Checking for pulses. Killing men in battle was one thing but killing them here in the dark and dingy streets of a nearly abandoned town. A place that was supposed to be a refuge, to be sacred. It was like you couldn’t breathe, like the world was closing in on you.

This wasn’t Dimitri, was it? The man who had kissed you, who had held you, who had made you laugh. The man you were in love with.

“If you can’t stomach reality, you have no place here,” Dimitri said, stalking past you. Professor Byleth attempted to stop him, but that didn’t matter. Dimitri was a force of nature, like a storm or a fire, without reason or restraint.

Besides, the guards for calling for Professor Byleth’s help, likely asking for advice on how to handle this situation. How were you supposed to handle this situation? What were you supposed to do?

“Are you all right?” Ashe asked, peering at you with a look of concern. “Let’s go back to the monastery, the guards can take care of this.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Your ears were ringing. It sounded like screaming. It smelled like blood and fire and the tangy, sour, stale sweat that reeked of pain and fear. Was this any more or less horrific than what you had already seen? You already knew the violence Dimitri was capable of, you already knew the depths to which he had descended.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look really pale…” Ashe said.

You felt a little numb. Empty, cold, like everything had been drained out and replaced with cotton.

“Ashe?” you asked, but your voice sounded far away.

“Yes?” He looked so concerned, so earnestly worried for you. That was good, nice. You could hold on to that.

“What do you think it is to be honorable?”

Ashe blinked, clearly confused, but his answer was quick. “Honor is doing what’s right.”

“Who defines what’s right?” you asked.

“I’m not so sure this is important right now,” Ashe said, looking around. You ignored it all, the noise and the people and the carnage and the fear and the disgust, focused only on the one question. “Perhaps we should wait until we’re-”

“Please?” you asked. That word was etched into your tongue.

He looked like he was about to argue but relented after a moment. “I suppose the goddess defines what’s right, so do those who lead us,” Ashe said. “But knights also must follow their hearts. To follow all of those things… that’s honorable.”

You closed your eyes, trying to comprehend exactly what he said. That definition definitely made sense. Honor both was and wasn’t. Nebulous and strict. If you doubted what you knew, you’d lose it entirely. It was better to let it be, you decided that long ago.

Letting out a shaky breath, you nodded. “You’re right.”

“Are you okay?” Ashe asked again.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. You just had to ignore this, shove it from your mind. Focus on other things. “Let’s go back to the monastery.”

[southslates]

a rant about the saturation of zvkka fandom

as a tyzula shipper i get really surprised by how the most popular lgbt/wlw atla ship before the renaissance fell off when it started; to the point where tyzula fandom still exists but it’s much smaller and constantly made fun of for being abusive 

and i think this is in part because of purity culture, where there can’t be nuance in anything and therefore tyzula is abusive and we can’t ship it! but i also think that as @army-of-mai-lovers outlined in this amazing post ty lee and azula aren’t love interests for any of the boys in the show, especially sokka and zuko, so content for them doesn’t need to exist because they simply don’t need to be sidelined. most tyzula content that exists is tyzula centric; not maiko or sukka or kataang or zutara centric, but tyzula centric. it explores ty lee and azula as characters because their chemistry is seen

you can see that most of the popular wlw atla ships in the renaissance are at least partly characterized by their relationship w zvkka, and clearly i have a lot of problems with that fandom, least of them all being the times i’ve been called a homophobe for disliking it. and one really large issue i have with zvkka fandom in general is its saturation of atla content to the point that it’s sidelined into a different au, that so many shippers see zvkka in atla when it just . . . isn’t there. it wasn’t the most popular ship before the renaissance because for fourteen years there just wasn’t . . . anything there. and i don’t know why it’s gotten popular, likely the help of some big name blogs (including the one that came up with homophobic katara) and the fact that fandom has started to really tend towards mlm ships more and more, and honestly good for zvkkas, the ship is cute, but uh

essentially just that even though zvkka has been the largest atla ship with the renaissance, it is not the most popular atla ship and it likely never will be because of that lack of longevity. there’s a lot of issues with misogyny and migratory mlm ships in fandom and i really, really see it here. zvkka fandom =/ atla fandom, atla has always and should always be more than about ships. of course i stick to mainly zutara/tyzula corners of fandom, which are super far removed from zvkka fandom in general for obvious reasons, but it’s almost sad to be entrenched in twitter and general tumblr fandom where people who’ve joined with the renaissance characterize zvkka as such a large feature of atla when atla as a fandom has always been surprisingly great with its characterization of women (atla specifically, ignoring lok etc). i’d never thought that the subtle misogyny would increase in the year 2020? and obviously as a zutara shipper i know that our fandom has had its issues with mai before, i am the last person to deny that, but i think that we are growing past it and trying to be better

one thing that i really hate seeing here is the idea that zvkka shippers “solved the ship war” by making zvkka larger than the kataang/zutara ship war. and i ship both zutara and kataang and one reason i absolutely hate this take is because i am in love with the fact that for fifteen years, whatever side you were on, atla discourse was about katara, what the brown woman in the show deserved. you can’t solve a ship war by shoe-horning her into kataang because that’s easy for your ship, because you’re just throwing away her agency and the entire point of the ship war. i actually pity a lot of people who mainly ship kataang because kataang; a ship between an asian monk and brown woman, which is canonically good representation, which is canon, is being pushed aside and made a sideship for a completely fanon mlm ship

maybe there’s a fetishization aspect in there? like i hate to make broad claims but the amount of zvkka nsfw for one, and then all the incredibly racist tropes i’ve seen there; the infantilization and feminization of zuko and the way sokka is supposed to be a big strong man or something just reeks of racism, especially when written by white people. it just strikes me as mischaracterization and the input of certain characters into boxes, because people don’t want to ship sokka and zuko, they want to ship mlm insert one and two. and i hate this because their dynamic is super interesting, canonically! i’d love to see how sokka with a plan and on-his-feet zuko work together :)

i mean fetishization is kind of prominent in internalized misogyny presenting itself as wanting two men to have sex to exclude women from the narrative, and in the post i mentioned above the op’s point was that atla fandom’s misogyny presents as unique because they don’t hate women, they just treat them like they’re really one-dimensional, and at the end of the day everything must come back to the dynamic between two guys who were intended to be cishet (i headcanon zuko as bi but i’m not stupid, this show is from 2005, it is what it is)

anyway i don’t know where i’m going with this! but i absolutely love atla wlw and i wish that the female characters could be analyzed further in depth than they are, and i’m still at a total loss to why fandom-- made by women, for women, and often queer women-- is willing to maintain so much misogyny in the guise of upholding queer rep in fanon ships with gay men. 

[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!”

[saphirered]

essek!!! honestly anything lol but maybe (i'll try to keep it vague for spoiler reasons) after ep 131 or ep 124, maybe a confession fic? if you aren't caught up just a general how a confession would go please! i love your writing and blog btw, all your caleb stuff is so 👌👌👌

Thank you for your request and yes I am caught up. I hope you enjoy this one.

Warning spoilers for Episode 124

Essek’s betrayal hit you hard. Sure you’d considered the possibility but being faced with that truth so upfront hurt, a lot. You’d been able to avoid him for the longest of times thanks to the Nein being taken in different directions. You simply couldn’t face him. After the party in Nicordanas you put on a brave face and you agreed with Caleb wholeheartedly but you didn’t have the strength to say these words yourself. Any interaction you had between then and now had been cordial and straight to the point whereas before there were plenty of pleasantries, some flirting even and the realisation your flirting was rooted within your own feelings. You’re a good enough people reader to know that his, at the very least were rooted in affection and before Nicodranas you might have seen a possible bright future for the both of you. Even after his betrayal was revealed your feelings remained but they were overshadowed by your pain. It felt like your heart was ripped from your chest. 

The trust, kindness, his affections for you, were they all just something to be exploited in a bigger plot. He said at first he was using the Nein but he grew attached so had you just been a pawn in a bigger ploy he felt sorry for? So many questions you had asked yourself over the last weeks, months even at this point and none of them you dared to answer so you didn’t. You pushed them aside and moved on. You pushed Essek out of your mind because it was easier than dealing with the pain. Pushing something away only works for so long. He’d come back into your life sooner rather than later. Aeor came closer in view and after the absolute shit show with the Tombtakers all of you were at your wits end. You didn’t want to pull anyone along into this chaos and especially not a certain wizard who’s proven himself to be prone to his desires for pursuit of knowledge and power; a thing you’d be serving on a silver platter but you really had no better options at this point.

The closer to your destination you got the more closed off you became. Face devoid of emotion and voice monotone, direct and without a single break you’d begun to mentally prepare yourself for your upcoming encounter to the point where you were seriously considering you might actually prefer another encounter with the Tombtakers over facing Essek. Your gradual shift in behaviour must have caught some attention as you quickly had a Jester at your side attempting to make happy conversation and lift your spirit and provide distraction. You tried to play along but the pitying smile from Caleb told you about how good a job you were doing. Nevermind the tiefling never quit and you could appreciate that. Jester cares and you were hurting so she did whatever she could to make it better. 

You eventually made it to the outpost and your ‘official’ mode kicked in taking over for Beau when she started butchering Undercommon. You presented yourself with an air of authority and purpose and that seemed to do the job very well. And there he was in all his miserable glory putting on a similar face as yours. He was caught off guard by Jester running in and hugging him and while he looked at you his eyes quickly avoided. Even though the conversations that followed you had no problem looking at him, sure he could feel your eyes burning but your gaze remained cold and distant; the way he had seen you face an enemy and the way you study when in company you don’t trust, watching the danger like a hawk for every single twitch. In this conversation it was very clear he had a hard time keeping eye contact but he was straight up avoiding both you and Caleb and you could put two and two together; shame. He was ashamed of everything he did and caused that much was sure. 

In a more private setting without the continuous presence of Dynasty soldiers the Nein told him everything that had occurred the past few weeks and slowly but surely his facade faltered, the gravity of the situation kicking in and him contemplating, taking in all the information you provided. You didn’t speak to him directly and only gave your input when it came to queries among the Nein having nothing to add directed at Essek. 

“I’ve spent so much of my life focussed on myself, my climb, all of my selfish needs. I’ve never really been trusted and so I did not trust. And I never let anyone close. I have been clouded in my judgement many times for a lot of my life. When I- when you gave me trust, it gave me a perspective that was so agonisingly striking. So easy to see that I refused to acknowledge it at first, even. I would be lying if I said that our paths crossing hasn’t shaken me to the core and I’m appreciative and thankful for this perspective, but you do not owe me trust for what I’ve done.” Those words hit hard and you found yourself biting down on your lip to prevent yourself from speaking. All the feelings you tried to push away so hard came back up and you were fighting to hold them at bay to prevent yourself from saying something you’d regret. Luckily the others jumped in allowing you to keep your silence. 

The conversation continued and Caleb made some good points making sure to make eye contact with you every so often to make sure you were alright and in agreement. You were interrupted after the mentions of Dagen and some shouting outside. You’d say you were surprised but really you weren’t though the sight of the man holding onto one of the Aurora Watch soldiers while presenting the letter he was told to deliver was quite the sight and made you quickly cover up a snort. Not quick enough apparently as some did catch on. Eventually back inside Jester began to insinuate Caleb should show the red eyes on his skin but you quickly shut that down, the first words you had spoken since you got here.

“What are we talking about?” Essek asks confused. 

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” Your words were colder than you intended but got the message across clear it seemed. They quickly shifted the subject back to Lucien, Aeor, the Somnovum, Vess being indisposed, gathering further allies until you landed on possibly considering bringing Astrid and Eadwulf into this opposed to Trent himself it was revealed or more like confirmed Essek had had dealings with the man in the past, persuading you all not to go to the Assembly. And because Veth slipped up you had to come clean about Vess’ actual state; dead in the hands of Lucien who killed her without as much as the blink of an eye. You were very much aware he was on the brink of a mental breakdown and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. 

Hot cocoa was passed around and you did not refuse Beau’s offer of a good pour of whiskey while the conversation continued in regards to the Beacons and some choice of words and theories around the Beacons that could be considered sacrilege among the Dynasty. You were planning out the delve into the ruins Essek suggesting it would be best to go your separate ways until you were ready to traverse Aeor. The conversation ends and you are about to go your separate ways bedding down for the night until you would travel to gather allies and supplies. Caleb stays at your side aware of how you’re handling things but he stops with you before you leave catching Essek by the forearm. 

“Breathe. Just.. breathe that fresh air mindful of the people about. Time. Time. Not weeks. Not years. It takes time.” He was speaking to Essek but you knew the words were directed at you as well. For the first time you deliberately meet eyes looking over your shoulder as you join the rest of the Nein. You were lead to a reasonably sized room, small for all of you but much more preferable to the ice and snow outside. You take time to settle down and eventually sit down with Beau and Caleb.

“I don’t trust any of this.” You tell them hugging your knees to your chest. 

“I’m with you. It’s just too much. Too many risks. To many cards not yet in play that could shake this whole game up.” Beau agrees. 

“But we have to make a choice and Essek is our safest and most certain bet. Every option is risky.”  Caleb has a point and it’s one you’ve been using to justify and be at peace with all of this. 

“I’m afraid that he’s going to realise the pressure is too much and he’ll bolt. Or the Assembly catches up to him before we get back and they’ll rat him out but my biggest concern right now is for the Tombtakers to travel faster than we’re expecting. What if they get here? Our advantage will be gone.” The rest of the Nein having turned into the conversation had to agree with you there. If your or Essek’s enemies somehow got involved you’d be screwed. 

“You got a point. So how do we solve this? Essek said it’s best to go our separate ways until we got our stuff sorted so we can’t really stick around and we’d still be traceable if we split up. It’s a risk we’ll have to take as it’s the safest for both of us now.” Beau contemplates trying to formulate a better plan. You already had a plan and you didn’t like it for one minute but it was all you got.

“I know how we solve this. You give me the amulet and I stay behind. That way they can’t scry on me as long as I’m here. They can scry on us when we’re together anyway and with only one amulet we’re not going to get very far. You gather everything we need, get whatever help we can get and come back here when you’re ready to leave.” You can hardly believe your own mind could make the decision regardless of your personal opinions. 

“And you’re okay staying behind with Essek to keep an eye on him? What if Lucien and his gang shows up?” 

“Beau, I’ll manage. My personal feelings don’t matter in the bigger picture for now. I can get over myself. As for the Tombtakers, Essek’s gonna be a fat load of good when he can’t use his magic. If they get here before you return I’ll get him out of here and to Aeor myself if I have to. Can’t defeat them but I sure as hell can outrun them for a while.” You assured them, a couple of nods and attempts to protest eventually resulted in the agreement. You’d stay behind. One final rest and everyone would be finishing their unfinished business, say their goodbyes and hellos, get their closure and prepare for the worst. Yet you couldn’t see yourself anywhere but here. Sure you wanted to be there for your friends but they could do without you. You were needed here so maybe your own unfinished business had to conclude right here where you are. 

You said your goodbyes and the Nein were off leaving you alone in the makeshift chamber. You inhale deeply and exhale slowly counting to ten in your head and leave the room. The back of your mind tells you this was a mistake and you definitely couldn’t do this but there’s no way back now so you put on your brave face and make your way to Essek’s chambers. In front of the door you wait, count to ten again and put on your brave face before you knock on the door. The door swings open.

“Y/n. I was not expecting to see you. Please come in.” He speaks glancing around you for any of the guard that could possibly hear him. The moment you force yourself to enter the door closes behind you and you can see him deflate just a little, all manner of composure dropping for a moment before he looks up at you from behind his desk. Up front he may appear composed once more but his eyes tell a different story. Panic, surprise, questions, fear and shame. 

“Have you come to say goodbye?” A slight break of his voice at the last word. Oh Essek you really dropped the ball haven’t you, you think to yourself. 

“No actually. I came to tell you the others have left and I’ll be staying behind.” He goes to protest getting up from his seat. Fear, concern and something you can’t identify peak through. 

“So unless you’re planning to take me to wherever they have gone yourself resulting in you having to get back here with all the potential risks you’ve priorly described, I’m staying here and there’s nothing you can do about it so suck it up, darling.” You mentally kick yourself for using that last word. You didn’t mean to but you slipped up falling back in old habits. 

“You’re putting yourself at great risk by staying here so please let me take you back to the others.” He comes closer to you and you stay your ground. 

“Sorry. Not going to happen, Essek. I’m staying. I can’t be scried upon so I’ll be fine.” 

“There’s many more dangers than the risk of being scried upon.” 

“Which ones would you be referring to? The assassins after you? Or maybe the risk of you being discovered? The person who sent the assassins getting antsy and exposing you to the Dynasty?Being a traitor to your nation and a catalyst in a bigger plot you have no control over? The Tombtakers and their shenanigans? Literally anything to do with Aeor? The alleged death and or plotting of the demise of extremely powerful mages? Keeping secrets and being prepared to find or create a scapegoat to cover up the fact that the peace agreement between two nations which is already hanging by a single thread was based on the lies and deceit of another? Or perhaps it’s your uncanny ability to pursuit the path to your own destruction and your terrible sense of judgement and eye for consequences? Oh or maybe the fact that if we don’t stop all of this the world like we know it will possibly come to an end and we’ll could just end up dealing with yet another Calamity scale event? Take your pick because I’m pretty sure I’m already involved in what? All of them? But please be my guest and pick one!” You lost all composure you had but the more you talk the more you realise you couldn’t keep all of this pent up. It does you no good. 

“My apologies. I won’t ask for your forgiveness as-“ You cut him off. You’re on a roll so you’re gonna get this over with while you’re at it; speak your mind openly without restrained.

“Yet you still have it! For some stupid reason I find it within myself to forgive you for all horrible thing you’ve done but the one; I can’t seem to get over the fact you betrayed my trust. That you didn’t trust me when it mattered and that I was nothing but a pawn in your game and you discarded the trust I put in you so easily.” You can feel your voice crack multiple times throughout your words and you curse yourself for doing so. Essek looks at his feet lips tightly pushed together. 

“Perhaps my expectations were too high.” You spat about to storm out of the room but the door remained closed.

“Essek let me go.” You glared at him. He couldn’t even give you that? A departure with dignity before you broke down?

“You’ve said your part I think it’s only fair I say mine. Though if you wish to leave I won’t hold you here. You’re free to set foot where you please. I know I have no right to but I ask only a moment.” You brace yourself already mentally kicking yourself for coming to this decision so quickly and not even being able to tell yourself why you shouldn’t.

“Fine. I’ll hear what you have to say.” You cross your arms and take a few steps back in his direction.

“From the moment I’ve met you I’ve been captivated by you but I simply couldn’t get over myself and admit to myself that maybe what I’m doing isn’t worth the collateral. You made me feel guilt and regret but I pushed that aside because I there was no way back from what I had already set into motion. I meant what i said, I have grown attached to your little group and I would even go as far as to call them friends something I haven’t been able to call anyone. Not truly without ulterior motives. But you’ve always been something more. I know I will repent for my sins but I will not drag you down that path with me. I love you too much to allow that to happen. So I beg of you, do not put yourself at risk for my sake.” Finally he looks at you without looking away or avoiding your direct gaze. 

“I refuse to let you become collateral in my actions. No matter how much I want you at my side I know you simply cannot be and I have come to accept that. Please grant me the dignity of excluding you from my own demise.” 

“What you want and what you get are two very different things Essek.” You definitely heard the proclamation of love but it was said in the heat of the moment so you let it go for now choosing to ignore it. 

“Believe me I am very much aware. Just as I am aware I have ruined what we had and perhaps even the chance of one day earning your love should you ever give it to me. While I may wish I could change the past I would never change meeting you and the moments we shared. The mere thought of your smile makes me feel a fraction of your warmth in this cold wasteland and I could die a happy man should it be the last thing I see. I believe my worst fear to have come true when it became clear I may never see that smile of yours again. I cannot deny my feelings for you so I won’t and I will assure you I am honest and open when I say that I love you. I’d rather say it now before we both walk into our deaths when we set foot in those ruins.”

“I know I have no right to and I will admit I am a selfish man when I hope you will at least tell me that you might have shared my feelings were the circumstances different.” His feet touch the ground and he studies you for any response but finds none. 

“You are a fool. Hopeless. You are selfish and hardly ever look out for anyone but yourself. You would betray anyone if it were to further your own interests or save your own hide. You’d sacrifice anything and anyone to get what you want, price be damned.” You begin stepping closer to him and you can see him break just a little on the inside.

“That’s what I want to believe but I simply can’t. My own mind argues against all the things it reasonably tries to claim you to be. Yes you are a fool but you are also one of the cleverest and most intriguing people I’ve ever met. You’re not hopeless. You are selfish but your selfishness knows boundaries as displayed by your guilt and regret and shame. You would betray anyone but only if it meant you it allowed you to save what you care about and you’d sacrifice anything and everything to protect it. But I still wonder. Was it worth it? Making the choices you did was it worth putting yourself in this place?” 

“No. Most of the results while desired were not worth the cost.” Again the guilt and shame rises. 

“Then you have learned. So I will give you what you need; my honestly. We both know that these flirtations we’ve had are more than just that. Back then I could have seen a future where you and I could have had something beautiful but I will also admit I have not seen the same thing ever since our last meeting. I do not see a future not because my feelings for you have disappeared but simply because it is unpredictable. It’s fickle much like the Dunamancy you study. And that’s exactly how a future should be, right? Uncertain and unpredictable. What we’re walking into is just that. So if we do make it out alive I’m sure that future will be much clearer once we’re no longer on the brink of destruction.” You step up close enough and put a hand on his cheek making him look you in the eye.

“I don’t understand.” He begins.

“Let me spell it out for you.” You move your lips closer to his and when he doesn’t pull away you place your lips on his in a chaste kiss. 

“Do you get it now?” You say as you pull apart. 

“I think I may need another explanation to make sure I caught that right.” He stumbles a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks so you oblige and kiss him again. 

“I love you.” You say leaning your forehead against his. 

“I love you too.” Both of you laugh taking in the craziness of the situation. You went from being upset to arguing to honesty and a confession of love. This truly must be something recorded in some romance novel in Jester’s collection. Ridiculous but true.

“You may be a fool Essek Thelyss, but you are my fool and don’t you forget.” 

[twinkleallnight]

Marshmallow

Dream come true

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Word count: 1559

Pairing: Drake x Hana

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: None.

A/N: I am participating in @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt "dipped in silver" appearing in bold.

For the story till now: Catch up here

LeoOlivia stand in front of me beaming at each other and I keep giving confused looks to both of them.

I don’t realise my mouth is gaping in surprise till Livy speaks. “Chin up Drake or you may drool your whiskey.”

 “Since when?” I fumble over my words. “You… you never said anything.”

“You never asked.” She replies calmly.

“When did this happen?”

“When you were busy being a doting commoner to the court and running away from me.”

 Leo laughs at her comment and adds, “You could have done better as her best friend Drakey.”

“My apologies to the Duchess.”

Olivia swats me on my arm. A royal guard approaches Leo, “The king is asking for you, sir.”

“Excuse me, dearies.” Leo places a kiss on Livy’s cheek and walks away with the guard. I watch Livy gazing at his retrieving figure.

“So, why now?” I ask her.

“Huh?”

“I understand that you have been meeting in secret, till now.”

“Leo didn’t want to create any more problems for Liam. He stayed at Lythikos, maintaining a low profile and preferred we wait till the social season gets over.”

“Why did you plan it today, on the coronation ball?”

“You may say I wanted the right waltz partner today.” She gives a carefree smirk.

“I am really sorry. I was not there for you.”

“Its fine. I guess that was how we were supposed to find our paths.” She then says, her eyes pointing at Hana. “How are things between you?”

“She is leaving for Shanghai tomorrow. Her parents want her back.”

“And you plan to just sit and watch her go?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Not much that I can do amongst the powerful nobles. I promised her, we will find a solution but I don’t have a clue.”

“In the end she will leave heartbroken from here.” There is hurt in her eyes.

“ Why do you say that?”

“Why do you you do that?” she questions me instead.

“What?”

Livy shakes her head, “Nothing. Go enjoy the time you are left with, with her.” She leaves me alone and I keep staring at her back, thinking about what she meant.

The musicians start playing the Cordonian waltz, and the eager one pair up twirling around on the dance floor. There are many smiling faces, Liam and Riley, Olivia with Leo, happy in each other’s arms. I watch them moving swiftly across when a gentle tap on my shoulder distracts me.

“Hana?” I turn to find her behind me.

“Dance with me?”

“You know I can’t.” I shy away.

“Follow my steps. You have tried once. Remember?” she insists.

“How can I forget? That was the best birthday I had.” The sweet memories of the autumn night, bring a smile on my face.

“Shh. Don’t. Someone doesn’t like to talk about birthdays.” She teases me.

I laugh at her sarcasm, as she pulls me to the dance floor. I follow her steps and pick up the pattern of movements, in few steps.

“See, that was easy.” Hana whispers, her hand in mine and her body flush with mine. I am going to miss her voice, her smell, her touch. The thought upsets me.

“Hana, what am I going to do without you.”

“Liam will need you around a lot with his new role as a king.” She tries to reason.

“I am a vet, not a royal advisor, that he would need me.”  

“It’s not always about your qualifications. It’s about who you are as a person to him. You are his best friend, his confidante, his pillar of strength in his difficult times. You are that commoner who keeps him grounded amongst the high headed royals.”

“And who will keep me sane in the throng of these high headed nobles?”

“Don’t make it more difficult for me, please. You know how much I want to be with you. You will have all of them,  Liam, Max, Riley. I am going to be all alone back home.”

“Then stay back. Don’t go.” I try to convince in vain.

“You know I can’t stay. Liam has promised us he will find a solution. When we are away, maybe we will be able to find a way through.”

I let out a sigh in defeat. “You are stronger than I had thought. But I am scared. Scared that I will lose you. Just like…”

She places her finger on my lips, “No, you will always be in my thoughts. I will call you.”

“How? We will be in different time zones.”

“It’s just a 6 hours’ time difference. We can catch up.”

“I don’t want to catch up. It want to be with you.”

“Don’t be so tough.”

“Don’t go away.”

“ I am always here.” She gently places her hand on my chest.

I don’t care if my steps are falling right as we waltz. I wish to absorb all that I have for the rest of the evening. I won’t leave Hana’s side till the night gets over.

 *************

Early next morning, Hana is ready for her journey. Liam and Riley stand beside her bidding her farewell. Max roams around aimlessly. Hana says her good-byes to them all and walks to the door where I stand with a sullen face.

They all walk out one by one leaving just the two of us alone. She leans in and I take the whiff of her perfume as I hug her.

She cups my face. “Don’t be grumpy.”

“You too? I hate Riley for teaching you all her unwanted vocabulary.”

She smiles through her glistening eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” She hugs me again.

“Now I need to leave. Wait for my call.”

And just like that, she is gone. Hours turn into days and days into a week. She never calls up. I keep waiting. I try asking Riley but nothing comes up except reassurances.

Liam has kept busy with his plans for the engagement tour and setting up his new council. I try to keep myself busy at the stables and on the farms until after a week when Livy visits.

“How are you?” She asks, tilting her head, judging with her piercing green eyes.

“As always.” I give a casual shrug.

“How is Hana?”

“I don’t know.” I avoid her gaze.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I kept waiting but she never called back.” I say as a matter of fact.

“You are an idiot.” She says in a raised voice.

“What? What did I do?” I give her a puzzled look.

“That is the problem. You don’t do anything. You know her circumstances.”

I leash out my frustration at the situation. “For all we know she must be having her precious fingers dipped in silver wares, busy, throwing away parties and bragging about her Cordonian expedition.”

 “How can you say that for her?”

“Because I am a fool. After all, she is a noble like you all. Why would she care about some commoner she had a fling with?”

Livy snarls at me. “You moron! Are you out of your senses? You know the conservative culture where she comes from. And yet you sit here waiting for her call?” She smacks me hard on my bottom. “Get your ass up and act.”

“Gawd! Lady, have you forgotten your manners?” I rub my hurt part and stare at her offensively.   “Where do I call? Her old number is invalid. I don’t have any alternate number. I can’t call up at her estate and say that I am the royal vet and want to speak to their daughter because I am in love with her. I don’t know what repercussions she will face for that. What can I do?”

She thinks for a moment and then speaks. “Meet me in Liam’s study after two hours.”

“But?”

“Just do what I am telling you.”

“Okay.” I throw my hands up in the air and walk away.

************

Three hours later I am sitting in front of Liam’s desk. Riley is standing next to him smiling widely.

I look at Livy, who is sitting next to me handing me some documents. I have read them carefully and I can’t believe what I am getting myself into.

“Do you think this will work.” I ask Livy

“I don’t do half cooked job. I have covered up all loopholes. It definitely will work.” She says firmly.

“Why didn’t it strike me all these days?”

“Not everyone has the prowess of the scarlet Duchess.” Liam beams looking in approval at Olivia.

“Thank you for doing this for me.” I have said that almost ten times in last half an hour.

Olivia stands up and I follow suite. “You are a nuisance to handle Mr Walker. It’s rare to find a match for a stubborn stag like you. Now that we have found one, it’s better you don’t lose your chance at it. Go, get her!”

I hug Livy. “You are the best!”

“I know.” She says with a smirk.

I pick up my air tickets and the official documents addressed to Mr Lee with the royal seal from the king of Cordonia. I walk out of the study with a spring in my gait.

I grin thinking about seeing Hana soon and that too in Shanghai. Dreams do come true!

 

Tags: @ao719 @annekebbphotography @anjanettexcordonia @bebepac @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen   @drakewalker04 @eadanga @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @krsnlove @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @jessiembruno @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @khoicesbyk @shewillreadyou @lisha1valecha @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @secretaryunpaid @sirbeepsalot @speedyoperarascalparty @shanzay44 @texaskitten30   @txemrn @queenrileyrose @sanchita012 @sfb123 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09

[numberonephantompizza1]

Poppy Fanfic: “Ask Her”

For context: This is a fanfic I wrote in order to join the Poppy Milk dev team and show off my writing skills. Since the callout at the time said we’d need to write a lot of sidequests, I wanted to ask the question of what a Poppy-centered side-quest would be like. I got the idea that it would be from an Asker’s perspective, and everything sort of came naturally after that. Even though I’m on the dev team right now, it’s not canon to Omega Timeline: Poppy’s Story and even has some inaccuracies that contradict canon. With that said, please feel free to read the story below the cut.

---

You noticed something very different inside your room when you woke up. The lights were off and the sun hadn’t yet risen, but there was a certain… aura, coming from your door. You were filled with a certain trepidation, but… you approached it. It was hard to see in the light, but it looked… grey. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stepped through...

...and found about the last person you would’ve expected. The spitting image of Frisk - CORE!Frisk, that was, looking up at you, in the middle of a white void.

“Wh- You’re real?!” you asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course I’m real. Have you been taking all this multiverse stuff for granted? Everything is real somewhere,” Core answered, simply. 

“I… I don’t… and you, me…” you panted, starting to feel a small panic attack coming on.

“Focus,” Core snapped their fingers, grounding you back in reality. Okay, this was happening now.

“Let’s get down to business. Simply: you don’t like me. And I don’t like you. But we BOTH like Poppy. Poppy, my dear, sweet angel… has unfortunately recently come to the realization that Askers ALSO exist in the multiverse. And now she wants to do a ‘meet n’ greet’ with one of her fans. Trust me, I TRIED to talk her out of it, but she can be darn persuasive when she wants to be. And as you’re now realizing, that’s where you come in. 

“I wanna make you a deal. You play along with whatever Poppy wants until she gets bored of this. If you’re on your best behavior - and that means, don’t give her anything bad, don’t tell her anything you KNOW she shouldn’t know, don’t use any magic, and be a general good influence - if you play nice, in exchange, I will allow you to hang out with ANY resident of the Omega Timeline. 

“Want to spend a day full of wacky hijinks with a Papyrus, or even an Underswap Sans? Consider it done. Want to know how Deltarune Chapter 2 plays out ahead of time? I know a Susie with your name on it. Whatever you want, so long as you play by the rules, and don’t ask for anyone obviously ridiculous. So… do we have ourselves a deal?”

You contemplated that offer, and everything that was happening, trying to suppress your inner urge to geek out for just a few moments. The Omega Timeline, Poppy, and all the AU’s you could think of and more were real. And you just got an invitation to visit them.

“Yeah, of course!” you nodded excitedly, though your enthusiasm only seemed to make Core more anxious.

“Don’t make me regret this…” Core sighed, as the whiteness seemed to melt away into a cozy-looking house with wooden floors and lime walls, where you were standing directly outside of a white door. Core seemed to have disappeared.

Technically, there was nothing stopping you from exploring. So you did just that. You walked up to a shelf with some family photos. One was a photo of Poppy, Core, Dusted and Rust all together, in some meadow, looking happy. At least, you assumed Dusted and Rust were happy, they didn’t show up well on camera. There was another photo of Poppy alone, looking somewhat younger than she did on the blog, seated on a chair in a photo that looked far more staged. She held an actual poppy flower in her hand and smiled brightly.

You opened the cabinet doors, curious of what knick-knacks you might find in there. Some crayons, a few random glass cups, some art by 3-year-old Poppy that was so poorly done its meaning was hard to decipher, and a locked box. You reached for the box--

“Getting a bit sidetracked, aren’t we?”

You jolted up, and faced Core behind you. Even though they were child-sized, they crossed their arms with the poise and authority of a stern parent. You laughed anxiously. “Ahahaha… ahaha… ha……..”

“...Strike one.” Core said, and vanished. The meaning of that was all-too clear. Deciding not to dilly dally any longer, you went to the room you suspected to be Poppy’s, and knocked. 

“Just a sec!” Poppy said, and opened the door. She looked up at you, and gasped. “Wow, Granpa really did come through…!” She twirled excitedly. “You must be my adoring fan, aren’t you?” she asked.

You stared down at the girl in stunned silence.

“To be honest, I kinda figured you’d be some gray guy with sunglasses, but that’s kinda silly in hindsight. How you doin’?” She asked that last line in a mock accent as you continued to stare.

“Baby,” you said.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you quickly tried to change the subject. “Yeah, it’s… y’know, it’s great to be here…” You clasped your hands together, biting your lip. You were in an Undertale AU, faced with the AU granddaughter of another AU character. You still weren’t entirely over that. Was this fever dream? Fandom heaven, or fandom hell?

“I know! Once I heard you guys weren’t from the Omega Timeline, I realized I hadn’t met even ONE of my fans… even if you guys are super annoying some of the time.” 

“Uhhh, yeah…” you wondered if you should apologize on behalf of the askers who put Poppy in the hospital that one time. Then again, it seemed kind of awkward, and it might have been best not to bring that up while Core was watching, which was always. Looking down at the cutesy girl, it was almost tempting to pull her into a hug, but you managed to keep your composure. 

“I wanted to do something a little more special than just some sorta interview, though, because you ask me questions all the time anyways,” Poppy said. “Granpa said you’ve never been to the Omega Timeline before, so I wanna give you the big tour!” Poppy went to the door. “I’m gonna be outside when you’re ready!” She left the room.

Seeing the empty room in front of you, you were tempted to snoop again, but you’d learned your lesson after last time. You headed straight out after Poppy.

You couldn’t help but gasp in awe of the serenity of the great outdoors as you were beckoned to it. You’d been outside before, obviously, but everything just looked so… nice. The blue sky, the grassy grounds, the ornate buildings… you’ve seen this place in pixel art and a couple drawings before, but seeing it with your own eyes was another story. And the next thing for you to nearly faint at was seeing the Undertale characters running around, Sanses, Undynes, Frisks, even goat moms. 

Poppy smiled. “...It’s nice, isn’t it? I KNEW taking you on a tour was a good idea.” She smirked. “Now remember, just because this is a meet-up doesn’t mean it’s free, and there WILL be a fee at the end of our ride.”

“...Uh… I left my wallet at home,” you said, patting your pockets, “And I don’t have any, uh... ‘G,’ I think. Unless the G stands for ‘Gratitude,’ amiright?” you did finger guns.

“G stands for Gold,” Poppy corrected you bluntly, unamused. She returned to her chipper attitude just as quickly, though. “Now, let me show you around!” She led you down the street. 

Walking with her, seeing so many versions of your favorite characters in the flesh, walking around… well, the temptation to talk to SOME of them was irresistible, Core be damned. You did resolve not to go too far off-track, but you shared some words with the folks you passed by, Poppy thankfully stopping each time you did. You met two Frisks - one boy, one ambiguous - an Underswap Undyne, a human version of Toriel, and surprisingly, a version of Princess Peach.

You and Poppy approached an elegant fountain, stood upon proudly by a statue of a mustachio’d CORE!Frisk. “This is the Timeline Plaza! It’s sort of the local park, where people meet up to do... stuff. Just hang out. Make a picnic. Play ball. All that good park-y stuff, y’know? And there’s stores in all directions, so it’s pretty good.” She proudly showed off her home to you, with a smile.

You talked to more on the way to the next place. An Inverted Fate Papyrus. A weird Ralsei who said his name was “Noyno.” An Asgore wearing a hoodie, who you assumed was swapped with Sans. (Poppy did scold you a little bit for this, telling you that just because someone has a hoodie you shouldn’t assume they’re swapped. You apologized.)

“This is Grillby’s! One of them, anyways. The nearest one to my house. It’s pretty good if you want an OK burger. Sanses love the place, though. It’s… kind of unhealthy. And a little gross.” Poppy said. “Especially when they just drink… raw… ketchup.”

“Can’t handle a little ketchup?” you smiled mischievously. “We drink it by the gallon back in my universe,” you lied.

“...I really hope you’re joking,” Poppy said, alarmed.

“Am I?” you smiled brighter.

“...W-well, we’re not going in there, so you can FORGET about drinking that much ketchup!” Poppy said, afraid of the sheer power of your ketchup-drinking.

You and Poppy moved onto the next spot. You met an Underswap Alphys who seemed to be trapped in a red-and-gold palette. You met a robot dressed as a circus ringmaster, who claimed to be a Chara. You met a Dummy dressed in a Frisk shirt. (You didn’t assume it was swapped with Frisk this time, which turned out to be a mistake, because it was.) Poppy stared at you awkwardly now, wondering why you were talking to all these random strangers. Finally, you and Poppy reached your next destination.

“The theater! Where we show off all the greatest hits! Including MY movie, which, not to brag, but it’s--”

Except, you’d been distracted by a hyperdeath Asriel, and were ignoring Poppy for the moment.

“...” Poppy spoke up. “That’s what I don’t get about you.”

“Huh?” that seemed to wake you up, and you looked at her. 

“Everytime it’s always, ‘have you met Underswap Sans,’ or ‘have you met JangoTale Frisk,’ or some other weird thing. You always ask that. But… they’re just people. Why do you always assume I know some random Sans or Frisk or someone?”

“I…” you were a bit taken aback. “...I don’t… we don’t assume you know them, they’re just… they’re just important.” 

“Important?” She asked. “...I-I mean, yeah, EVERYONE’s important, but, I don’t really get what you mean…”

“They’re all--” You paused, trying to collect your thoughts, think of everything you knew from the blog, and tried to actually talk to her. “...They’re like friends to me. Kinda.”

“...You guys are friends with them? I thought you were stuck in your world…” she frowned.

“No, it’s like-- I’m not ‘friends’ with Underswap Frisk, or-- or Storyshift Frisk, or Shifty or whatever, I’m just friends with… Frisk.”

...Poppy stared at you like you just said the ground was turning to jelly, or something equally bafflingly inane. “...I… think you’re confused. Look, sometimes newcomers struggle with this. Your Frisk isn’t the only Frisk--”

“I know! It’s… You don’t get it. This world, these worlds are so special and creative, and they mean a lot to me. I know we can be really edgy, and I know we ask weird questions about Dusted and Rust, but that’s all because… because...” you paused.

Poppy looked, seeming upset about hearing her siblings mentioned in the context of ‘edgy’ questions, not seeing what you were seeing. Core, standing behind her, holding up a hand signal.

The number two.

You were getting carried away. You overstepped.

“...Um… I’m sorry.” You pulled her into a hug as Core vanished. “There’s really no reason for us to ask those questions. We can just be dumb sometimes.”

“...” She hugged back. “Yeah, it’s okay. I knew you guys were super weird and dumb before I convinced Granpa to let you in here, so I guess I should’ve seen this coming,” Poppy smiled, regaining her confidence as you did your best to not be offended at being called weird and dumb.

“Okay! I think I have just one last stop in mind to cap this tour off on a high note! Literally, hehehe…” She giggled mischievously. This time, you didn’t stop to talk to others, following her directly as you approached a peak overlooking the town. For yet another time, and probably the last, you couldn’t help but ogle at the town’s beauty. “Pretty good, right?” She sat down.

“Ha… with all the climbing, I was worried we’d fall down a mountain,” you joked. Poppy seemed to roll her eyes, as you sat beside her. “...I guess I get how you can call this place home. I mean, once I stop nerding out, anyways. You don’t see stuff like this in my… reality.”

“Just gallons and gallons of ketchup, huh?” she commented. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah.”

And you two just stared into the distance for a while. ...She wasn’t just a character. She was a human being.

...Or, technically just a ‘being,’ scratch the human part. Still, you felt a bit desensitized to all this. And so did she. You related in that way.

“I can’t say you exactly passed with flying colors, but you fulfilled your end of the agreement well enough.”

Without any warning, you were back in a white void with CORE!Frisk, just like before. You almost forgot about the deal you made, what with all the time you spent with Poppy. You stood.

“Uh… yeah. So, my reward…” you drifted off, remembering the offer Core gave you. The chance to meet just about any AU character of your imagining… or at least, any that would be peaceful enough to be in the Omega Timeline. Which still left a WIDE variety of options…

Who did you want to see? What mattered most to you?

...

Thinking deeply… you told Core their name.

“...Oh. Really? Well, I guess it makes sense for you that you’d want to see them,” Core remarked. “I can’t guarantee they’ll give you what you’re looking for, but a deal’s a deal. Let’s head off.”

You and Core went somewhere else.

---

And that’s all she wrote! If you read this far, thank you. Working on the game since then has been fun, and I think you’ll like what we have in store. Until then, ciao.

[buckysrighthanddoll]

Envy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, Bucky Barnes x Savannah (OC)

Warnings: envy, jealousy, angsty implications, sexual implications (nothing actually described), fluff of course :)

A/N: So I’m fully aware that I haven’t been active on my blogs recently, and I’m sorry for that. Since the beginning of quarantine, I’ve been in a very rough family situation and had to move houses as a result. This one-shot will (hopefully) be the start of a series on the seven deadly sins; please give feedback and let me know what y’all think!

You weren’t new to the team. It was now 2018 and you were part of the original Avengers--you had fought in the Battle of New York and against Ultron. People have come and gone and died and retired; it was rarer to find someone who stayed and it was even rarer to attach to someone who was on the team.

Bucky Barnes was that rare, rare exception.

When he came along, your thoughts raced a million miles a minute. He was the Winter Soldier, after all, and you didn’t know how his recovery process was going to come along. You met him when he was in Romania--you fought him for a brief moment before he realized that you and Steve weren’t the bad guys, actually.

It was Steve’s idea to have you stay in Wakanda with him as sort of a caretaker. You had close contact with the team, even though you and Tony weren’t on the best of terms after the Accords, but you were also a hut away from Bucky. It was here where you fell for each other. Seeing him in the fragile yet strong state, the intimate moments as you both stared up at the stars, the kindred walks through the woods, it all made you fall.

Luck would have it that he fell twice as hard. You were caring and compassionate and, most importantly, patient and understanding. Growth was not linear, and you knew that. Being there for Bucky sometimes meant leaving him to his own business, but it also sometimes meant holding him while he sobs after having another nightmare.

You and Bucky had been an official couple for two years and five days. There were definite ups and downs to the relationship--Bucky was the most sincere and thoughtful man you had ever loved, but when the two of you fought, it was like hell on Earth. It could last a few hours or even a few weeks (three weeks, six days, and twenty-one hours was the current record). But, despite having a couple of massive fallouts and many, many bickers over safety during missions, you were a strong couple.

Never in the last two years had you been insecure, until she showed up. Her name was Savannah, and she was stunning in every sense of the word. Shiny chestnut hair, striking grey eyes, the perfect face, an even better body, the laugh that lit up the whole room--for fuck’s sake, even her powers were beautiful with her. She could shoot fire and water from her hands, but she did it in the way that made her seem elegant and graceful and--ugh.

Besides that, everybody on the team adored her. Steve had a crush on her, and you were pretty sure Sam did, too. Hell, even Nat seemed interested in her. The world seemed to revolve around her, and she knew that. And, lately, it seems like James Buchanan Barnes was wrapped around her perfect finger.

The insecurity started when she first moved in. Savannah was a late riser in comparison to most of the team, but that didn’t stop her from being so damn beautiful. During team breakfast, she came in twenty minutes after everybody else had sat down in a loose t-shirt and the shortest pair of shorts to ever exist on earth, and her hair was pulled back messily into a bun. Even without makeup, she was stunning.

She sat right next to Bucky with a plate half-full of food--part of her diet plan to stay in shape, you think she said (you looked at your now empty plate and couldn’t help but feel that perhaps you should also watch what you’re eating). She struck a conversation with him, and they held it for the entire meal. Rolling your eyes and making eye contact with Sam, you stood up and took your plate to the kitchen before getting down to the gym.

“New girl got your panties in a twist?” Sam asked a few minutes later. You tore your attention away from the punching bag and faced him, a scoff leaving your lips.

“Guess so.”

“You ain’t gotta be jealous,” He said, taking your hands. He takes a glove off of one of them. “Bucky loves you more than he loves his damn cereal in the morning.”

That earned a laugh from you.

You took off the other glove, and he motioned to the mat in a silent request to spar. You both worked out, and he took you down a couple of times before you were able to get the upper hand on him.

“That’s my baby,” Bucky sang as he entered the room. Your head turned toward him, looking like a Greek god in a tight shirt and workout shorts. Your eyes also caught Savannah walking in with him, but you tried your best to ignore her. “Wilson has nothing on you, sweetheart,” He adds as he comes to the edge of the mat.

“I took her down three times before you waltzed your metal ass in here,” Sam scoffed. You laughed and got up, going to the edge of the mat where your boyfriend was. He puts his hands on your hips and you reach for the back of his neck to pull him into a chaste kiss.

“You wanna go?” He asked you, nudging his head toward the mat. “I was gonna train Savannah, but I really want to lay some moves on you,” He smiles, wiggling his brows slightly.

“Oh my god, you are such a perv,” You joked, backing up to the center of the mat. “Come on, baby, show me what you got.”

It was a light spar, especially in comparison to how you normally fought each other. It was full of laughs and teasing moments, like right now. He had you pinned down, his hands wrapped around your wrists and his knees on either side of you. You glanced between his lips and eyes, and you caught him leaning in, but at the last second you flipped him over and pinned him down. He gave you a shocked look, but you just smiled up at him.

Of course, he didn’t let you win. He flipped you back over, but this time so that your face was planted against the mat. He holds your wrists behind your back and straddles your thighs, making you laugh. “Well, this reminds me of something,” You remarked.

“Dude, gross,” Sam said. Bucky got off of you and offered you a hand up, which you gladly took. “Okay, we gotta get this girl started. How about you fight (Y/N) first, Savannah?” Sam suggested. She nods her head and smiles cockily, stepping onto the mat. “No powers this time,” He tosses in.

The two of you go in circles for a moment, waiting to see who’s going to strike first. She looked confident, but you were a trained fighter in S.H.I.E.L.D., top of the recruits, and nearly beating out every single agent of experience. She had nothing on your physical fighting skills.

“You gonna fight me or are you just gonna stand there?” She taunted.

“Taunting gets you nowhere, dollface,” You smirked. You continued in another half-circle before she lunges. It was an easy dodge, just a simple side-step and kick, and she was thrown off balance. Her arms fly out to the sides to catch her balance, so you grabbed one and used it as leverage to flip her over you. Once she was on the ground, you straddled her and pretended to snap her neck, which indicated the end of the first spar. “Don’t ever let your emotions get the best of you in a fight,” You told her, getting up.

This continues for a couple more rounds, each time she gets her ass handed to her, but she does get better. Sam left by the time you both stopped fighting.

“Can’t I fight Bucky? Most of our opponents are male,” She asks, smirking slightly. It was abundantly obvious that she had a distaste for you, but it was completely reciprocated, so you weren’t bothered.

You and Bucky switch places, and she’s not doing well at all, even when Bucky goes easy on her. You could tell that she was faking being bad at fighting; she made it clear every time Bucky pinned her or straddled her and she gave him ‘the look’.

“Okay, let’s be done. I’ll get Steve to train you,” Bucky says, stepping off the mat. He gives you a side hug and a kiss to the cheek, eliciting a smile. “Do you wanna shower with me?” He asks. “We’re both pretty sweaty.”

You nod your head, choosing to ignore the death stare that Savannah was giving you.

_____

After that, you catch her trying to go after Bucky a little more. She started waking up at the same time as him and drinking coffee with him in the kitchen, she asked Tony to be placed on missions with him, she made it a point to not include you in conversations with him.

The worst part was that Bucky didn’t stop her.

It wasn’t like he was adoring the attention that he was getting from the both of you, but he most certainly wasn’t hating it, either. It almost felt like he was falling for her--you knew the signs, after all.

His laugh was a little more bubbly, his voice was a little deeper, and the body language conveyed that he was into the conversations they were having. It made your blood boil, and she knew it.

Eventually, you decided that you weren’t going to try to stop them from doing what they wanted. If he wanted to be with her, then so be it. All you had ever wanted for Bucky was for him to be happy--maybe you just didn’t make him happy anymore.

You compared yourself to her so much that any thought about you was straight negativity. You thought that you weren’t as pretty as her, and that your smile wasn’t as bright, and that she had a curvier body than yours, and that she was always so interesting and bubbly. You believed you were so boring by contrast--no powers, no unique features that you could see.

Just bland, boring, you.

“(Y/N), you good?” Steve asked, knocking on your door one day. Bucky was in the living room with Savannah and the rest of the team having a movie night, and she was sitting so unbearably close to him that you became nauseous and told him that you were just going to go to sleep.

Steve came into the room and sat on the bed beside you, making you look at him. “I’m fine,” You lied. You knew it was a lie. He knew it was a lie.

“It’s Savannah, isn’t it?” He asked.

You sighed and closed your laptop before looking back up at him. “Do you think he wants to be with her?” You asked sincerely.

“No,” Steve answers. “I think he’s happy to have a new friend, but he loves you more than he loves--”

“If you say ‘cereal in the morning’ I will chemically castrate you,” You threatened. He laughs and shakes his head.

“You know how he talks about his service days a lot? Any chance he gets, he’s talking about the good ‘ole days when he was actually charming and young?”

“Yeah, he talks about it for hours on end.”

“When he became the Winter Soldier, he didn’t feel human anymore. He thought with every fiber of his body that he was a monster and sub-human. He didn’t think he deserved to live because of all the things HYDRA made him do. But when you became official, and even to this day, he talks about you the way he talks about his service days--with pride and love. He told me that nobody can make him feel as loved and as human as you do,” Steve explains.

“But that doesn’t mean that other people can’t make him feel the same way. He’s an easy person to fall for--I’m not the only one who’s willing to sacrifice anything for him. What if she makes him happier than I do? Or what if he realizes that she’s so interesting and perfect and I’m just me.”

“Do you really think that?” Bucky’s voice asks. You snap your head up to the doorway in shock, where Bucky stood with a sweater. Steve awkwardly stands up and leaves the room, patting his best friend on the back on the way out. Bucky closes the door behind him and kneels next to you on the bed. “Sweetheart, do you really think that I’m into her?”

“It seems kind of obvious, Buck,” you sigh. “I get it. Everybody else sees that she’s beautiful and has an amazing personality. She’s amazing, and if you want her, go for her.”

“No,” Bucky says. His voice is full of emotion, stern and unwavering yet somehow soft. “(Y/N), I love you. You’re the one who has seen me at my best and my worst. You’re the one who makes me smile when I’m sad, who brings me back to reality when I’m having flashbacks and nightmares, the one who wipes my tears. You’re the one I want to marry someday and buy a house with and start a family with--whether that’s fur children, actual children, or just us, it doesn’t matter.”

“Bucky--”

“Steve was right. You make me feel human. Why are you jealous of her?”

You sighed heavily and tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. “You smile so much with her, and you’re always together, and--”

“She makes me uncomfortable,” Bucky interjects. He gives a small laugh before he continues. “She’s clingy and too touchy and doesn’t know when I want to be left alone and in the moments I don’t want to be alone, she thinks that I want to be around her when I actually just want to be around you. She talks about nothing except herself and her family, and won’t let me talk about any issues I’m having. She tried to get me to kiss her tonight, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting that shit slide.”

“She did?” You asked. Bucky nodded in confirmation, which made you livid. You stood up and tried to get past him, but he wouldn’t let you. “I’m gonna beat her ass,” You sneered.

“No, baby, I’ve got it covered. I got up and grabbed your favorite sweater of mine from my room, threw it in the drier so it’s warm, and I fully intend on holding you and making sure you know that I love you. I already texted everybody in the team and asked them to never put her on missions with me or let her try to even talk to me.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious, sweetheart,” Bucky smiles. He grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it up and over your head, handing you his sweater to put on. It’s warm and it smells like him and holy shit you’re so in love. “Nothing comes between me and my baby.”

“God, you are so cheesy,” You laughed.

Bucky stands up and gets into bed with you, pulling the comforter over the both of you and pulling you into him. “You don’t have to be jealous, (Y/N/N). It’s always gonna be us.”

“Do you think I’m boring?”

“Absolutely not,” He answers. “I think that you are a perfect combination of wild and tame. You know when to have fun and laugh, but you also know how to be serious when need be. And the way you can break a man’s neck between your thighs? That’s the hottest thing I have ever witnessed.”

You bust out laughing but hold him even closer. “I love you, baby. Can we get some sleep?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” He says. He asks FRIDAY to turn off the lights and lock the door, and then he kisses your forehead before you both drift off to sleep.

_____

The next day, you actually feel rested, even though you woke up at 0430 with him (a rare occurrence nowadays). He asks if you want to go on a run with him, to which you say okay. It takes all of ten minutes for the both of you to get dressed and brush your hair and teeth.

You go out to the kitchen to grab waters for you and Bucky. Usually, nobody else is up at this hour besides Steve (who was in his room getting ready for his run as well), but today, Savannah was there as well.

“You running with us, too?” She asked, turning around with a pep in her step. Her hair bounced in its ponytail, and she looks absolutely perfect in her leggings and sports bra. You felt like you weren’t nearly as pretty in your t-shirt and sweats.

“Yeah,” You replied, trying to keep a friendly voice as you searched for the bottles you, Steve, and Bucky typically use. You find them and fill them.

“He said last week that I could join him whenever I wanted. Hope that’s okay?” She says. It’s almost like she’s testing to make sure you weren’t the jealous girlfriend.

“I don’t care,” You shrugged. “Hell, I wish the entire team would go on morning jogs.”

“Listen, I don’t want to ruin your relationship--you guys are really cute together--but I think you should know that he kissed me last night.”

You shrugged your shoulders and leaned against the counter. “If you were really concerned about not ruining my relationship, you wouldn’t try to lay the moves on him as if you’re Michael Jackson. You’re aware he’s got a girl, but that doesn’t seem to matter to you,” You responded. Your voice was shockingly calm despite how envious of her you were.

“But--”

“But nothing,” You interjected. “Not only that, but I’m not concerned about you ruining our relationship. We trust each other and we’re open about our communication. You’re not a concern to us,” You added.

“Damn straight, sweetheart,” Bucky said as he and Steve walked into the kitchen. He plants a kiss on my cheek and grabs the water bottle from me, leaning next to me on the counter. “I told you last night that I wasn’t interested. Trying to get a rise out of (Y/N) won’t work because she’s one of the most rational and open people I know.”

Savannah got so upset that steam started rolling off of her, literally. Seemed there were some downsides to being enhanced, you assumed.

“Listen, we’re sure you’ll do great on missions,” Steve said, grabbing his bottle from you. “But I don’t appreciate people who try to get between Bucky and (Y/N). Keep that in mind,” He says sternly.

Envy is one of the seven deadly sins. It’s defined as a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else’s possessions, quality, or luck. You most certainly felt that stupid feeling more than you cared to admit, but that was okay. Communication and being open could fix a vast majority of problems that arise. You were lucky, luckier than Savannah could ever be because you had a partner that was not afraid to talk to you about his problems; even better, he wasn’t scared to listen to your problems.

Bucky was rare, but the love you shared with him was one-of-a-kind.

[do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger]

hi!!! can i get an x-men shift please? i’m bi (but hetero leaning) and use she/her pronouns. i’m a sagittarius, INTP, and am super into pop culture, movies tv shows music stuff like that. i’m an introvert, pretty shy at first but once you get to know me i’m pretty funny and kinda an asshole. i’m 5’7”, plus size and curvy, with longish wavy brown hair, blue eyes, and wear black glasses. i dress pretty comfy, jeans and t-shirts, sweatshirts, but i also have a leather jacket when i want to look more put together. mostly wear vans and converse. i love taylor swift, star wars, and all the superhero movies out there. i honestly don’t know what my mutation would be, i’ve never found one that fits right i guess. can’t wait to see who i’m paired with! love your blog, and thank you :)

I ship you with Peter Maximoff!

Warning: ✨contains swear words, mentions of being high, and grammatical errors probably✨

Peter is the type of person who thinks of bold and outrageous plans, but is horrible at executing them.

This is especially apparent now that he is part of the X-Men, because of the high stakes that often come hand and hand with these plans.

Yet at this moment, standing in front of you, attempting to respond to your simple and reasonable question, he feels as though the stakes of this plan are higher than any other he has previously made.

You and Peter were very close, most of you X-Men were. Shared trauma bonded you all like a family. So you were very comfortable around each other, like the: "We literally laugh at each other's farts and say 'love ya!' When one of us leaves a room." comfortable, so it concerned you that he seemed so nervous. You repeated your, as previously stated, simple and reasonable question.

"Peter, what the fuck."

You were mid-way through Empire Strikes Back when he first appeared, standing in front of the TV. Generally, when someone is watching a movie alone with the volume level barely audible, at 2 AM in the morning, they do not expect to be interrupted, but there he was. Interrupting you.

So you had asked him if he wanted to watch the movie with you and he said no.

Then you asked him if something was wrong and he said no.

But after he had stood in front of the television long enough for you to have paused the movie, you had come to the conclusion that he was messing with you. Hence the two "what the fuck"s.

He finally responded, seemly returning to his body after his brain's small vacation to who knows where.

"I need to talk to you about something important, and I wanted it to go a certain way but that way never actually happens so I'm doing it another way." Well, that was even more incoherent than his usual sentences.

"Wait- are you high again?"

"No! No. Well, maybe a little- but that's not the point."

"Sure, now what's going on."

"We're like... technically co-workers because of us being X-Men and shit, right?"

"If Bat-Man and Robin are co-workers, then yes."

"Don't be self-deprecating, you're way cooler than a silly side-kick."

You raised your eyebrows at him, "I wasn't Robin in that analogy, but thank you."

"Wait, I'm Robin?"

"You are a grown man who just used the world silly un-ironically, and I feel like that's something Robin would do. Just to clarify I don't know shit about Bat-man."

"Hey I'm barely a grown man- I'm not 25 yet, that would entail being a grown man, and I've got time 'till then! Anyway, stop going off-topic."

"Then move on from being weirdly defensive about being an adult in the eyes of the state."

"Touché. So, we're co-workers."

"Correct. What's the point."

"That's a problem."

"Why?"

"Well, ok this needs to be prefaced so consider this me shushing you in a respectful and not sexist way. You have been shushed."

"...Ok?"

"Shh! Now I get to ramble. So you know movies?" He gestured towards the school's collection of movies that sat next to the tv, and you nodded confused. "So in these movies, things happen certain ways, but those certain ways seem just as scary as the opposite of those ways." Yeah, he was totally high. "So, wow I'm starting so many sentences with the word 'so'. Anyway- I want to tell you something but I don't want it to be like a movie but I don't want it to be like not in a movie either. So I just want to say it then leave. Like- I'm going to run after I say it. Is that okay? You are temporarily un-shushed."

"If you're dying it's not, but if it's basically anything else then yeah. Go for it, you speedy coward."

"Cool. I mean- the nickname hurt but cool. Cool." He looked at you for a second. "Can you like... turn around?"

"Turn around?"

He now acknowledged that that was an odd thing to ask. "...Yeah. Is that dumb?"

"No, no, I'll turn around." To lighten the awkward mood, you made a joke. "A reasonable price for your terrible secrets to be revealed to me." It was not a very funny joke, but you tried your best and earned a (pity) scoff from him.

You were now both sitting criscrossed on the couch, facing the same direction. You were staring at a wall you found very uninteresting, and he was staring at the back of the head belonging to a person he found very interesting.

"So- basically I think you're... pretty..." He said the word intending to add another adjective after it, like 'cool', but he decided against it because that would be stupid. "And I have this problem where when I figure out I want to, quote-unquote, date someone, which is a gross word, by the way, I'm always friends with them. That means it has to be this dramatic thing. But I don't want it to be! You know? I just want to tell you that I have a stupid crush on you like a normal person. And- that's why I suddenly started hating training, because who likes to see people they want to smooch almost fake die, huh? No one! That's who! And I want to explain why I like you, but whenever I talk to Wanda about you, I always end up describing you the way a first grader describes their crush! Like: she's pwetty and smawt or whatever but that's fuckin' dumb. I guess that makes sense because I don't have crushes on people ever, and I barely dated in school, so I have no idea how to do this and I just want to pass you one of those 'hey, do you like me?!' notes with the fuckin' checkmarks!! And I am an adult person who is kind of afraid of kissing! What?!? Also, I don't have abs like Scott! Or boobs, and I know you like people with or without boobs and boobs are great! Also, to backtrack, don't think that I think you would go for Scott, even though if you were to, I would be supportive of you, but also sad because I would prefer if you went for me! So I want to be normal. Normal like the people in movies who meet someone cute and ask them out and not like the movies with the big stupid confessions. Trust me, if I had noticed that I whatever you like a year ago, I would have asked you out! Well no I wouldn't of because I would be too afraid to talk to you. But anyway I made you this," He reached around you and handed you a folded-up note. "Don't open it until I run away, but just leave it here with your response. If you check no, I bet if we paid Jean enough money she would erase this interaction from our brains. I only have seven dollars but I'm betting on a 'friends and family' discount. But.. if you say yes, I can ask you out like a dick in a movie, knowing you'll say yes because I am a speedy coward. I want you to call me a speedy coward when I do cowardly shit speedily, then do this cute thing where you'd be like 'but you're my speedy coward''. Anyway, I'm going to leave now. Love ya, but in the way we always said it beforehand, not in a dramatic confession way. Sorry I delved into my childhood there. Bye." You felt him awkwardly pat your back.

There was a gust of wind that ruffled your hair, and you knew he had run away.

You lifted the note up, mind empty, still processing everything he had rambled to you, and started carefully unfolding it.

It was one of his previously mentioned "Do you like me?" notes.

You willed yourself not to straight-up giggle like a 12-year-old at his note. It was messily written, and clearly on the back of a mission briefing.

Shit, you didn't have a pen. You looked under the couch cushions but there was no form of a writing utensil in sight! The audacity.

You knew Peter well enough to know that he was probably not too far away, waiting for the result of his question and trying not to spy.

"Hey... uh... Peter? I don't have a pen."

Peter hit his forehead with his hand, where the fuck was he going to get a pen? It's not like he owned pens that were actually in a designated spot! How ridiculous would that be, who did he look like, Charles? Charles! Charles has pens in designated pen places!

So Peter ran into the headmaster's office and found a pen. He wrote a small note stating that he borrowed a pen and that he would return it. Looking at the note Peter found it did not fully encapsulate the desperate need for the pen. The note ended up something like this:

Hey Charles! It's Peter! I took borrowed a pen because a very serious situation manner situation has arised. arisen. From, Peter. You can't get mad at me because if you could legally marry my dad you would be married and I would basically be your step son! Thanks half dad!

He thought the addition of the 'step' in stepson effectively hid the fact that Charles was a father figure of his. What was he doing here again? The serious manner!

In an instant of you telling Peter that you did not have a pen, one appeared.

"Thank you!"

You checked the yes box, but had a want to write something adorable. You couldn't think of anything so you just wrote "This was weird." under your checkmark. Well played.

You entertained the idea of resuming your movie but decided against it, you thought it would be more dramatic if you left the room.

The minute you made your exit Peter sprinted into the room. He opened your note, jumped, pumped his fist in the air, realized that was nerdy, and tried to make a cool pose to recover.

Now he just had to figure out how the fuck he was going to ask you out.

[leviskokoro]

BELOVED MASTER.

description :: ace has been acting rather odd lately.

word count :: 1284

pairing :: galewings (ace x mari)

notes :: inspired by @twstedforyou ‘s yokai au !! please check their awesome art out and give their blog a follow for great content. their yokai ace made me wanna start a fic series. i hope my writing did their art some justice.

Mari has experienced quite a number of strange days. So much so that she lost count how many of them she’s had. So much so that it’s practically the norm for her. However, she can’t help but feel that Ace has been acting quite odd. What used to be very occasional flirting as a joke turned into full on doting on her. The entire day he’s been asking her about her health and how she felt. Then he’s even given her homemade meals during lunch. Not only that, but something else was off about him. It was like his aura was different. The glint in his eye still had the same mischief she knew in her dear friend, but there was something else. Something she wasn’t familiar with.

She thought all this as they walked through the halls, side by side. Professor Crewel had tasked her with carrying some ingredients from the Botanical Garden and Ace kindly offered to help her with it. The sounds of their footsteps clicked against the ground. The halls were empty that day, the rest of the students had likely been in their classes.

But then, she stopped. And so did he.

“Ace?”

He turned to her in question. “Hm?” He hummed nonchalantly, as if everything was normal.

Chocolate brown eyes met ruby ones. Their gazes were locked on each other. “You’ve been awfully nice to me the whole day. Do you need something?” She asked.

His expression contorted into one of slight annoyance. “Are you saying that I’m not always nice?” He placed his hands on his hips.

Mari tilted her head. “Well… Not to this extent,” she answered, blunt as ever, “I didn’t even know you could cook so well until now. You never really just do these sort of things for no reason so I was curious.”

He made a face that seemed like he was hurt. “Geez, you make me sound like a real asshole. I just felt like doing it, y’know?”

“I’m sorry…” She mumbled, feeling guilty that she expected something bad from him. Her form shrunk down in shame.

Ace shook his head, placing one arm on the small of her back. “Anyway, we should get going before the professor gets mad at us.”

Mari nodded in agreement, eyes glancing down at his hand on her back with curiosity. But she looked back up at his crimson eyes. “You’re probably right.”

They went on their way to the laboratory.

Ace sighed as he walked towards his dorm. “Nothing gets past you, huh…?” He mumbled, remembering how she looked at him with her doe-like eyes. How he missed having her gaze at him.

And him only.

It was a close call. She nearly found him out. It was fortunate that he could talk his way out of it. The kitsune worried about how gullible she could be sometimes. But perhaps… She just trusted this version of him more to just take his word for it.

He looked down, realizing only now that he was clenching his fists. His knuckles had already turned white from how tight it was.

It took him so long just to see her again. He refused to let her go this time.

Instead of going to his room, he made his way to the rose maze. Once he reached a spot that was secluded, he knelt down and touched the grass with his right hand. Striking red marks formed the area around his hand, glowing brightly. It formed a sigil before the ground faded. A pathway laid in front of him, a stairway leading down to an abyss.

His footsteps echoed against the walls as he descended.

The kitsune saw his other, inferior, version still laying on the ground, bound by the magic he placed on him. He tsked at the pathetic sight.

“What does she see in you?” He asked, “Clearly she knows and trusts you.”

His counterpart looked up at him with utter confusion on his face, not understanding what was going on.

Ace glared at him, hatred burning in his ruby irises. “So what is it? Your heart? Your looks?” He pressed his foot against his chest.

“Clearly you don’t treat her better than I do if she was so surprised to see me treat her so nicely.”

“So why… why did you get to stay with her?” His form trembled, but he tried to keep his composure.

When this world’s Ace didn’t answer, he tsked once more. His lips pulled into a snarl. “And you don’t even know anything, do you?” He pressed his hand to his face, feeling that he was trembling. “You’re just some insolent brat who doesn’t understand. Why do I bother with you?”

His crimson gaze flickered to him once more. Then, it was as if a lightbulb came to life in his mind. A sick grin crept onto his face. A helpless anger simmered in him.

“If I just got rid of you, I could be with her forever.” A deranged glint flared up in his eyes. Sharp claws sprouted from his fingertips as he neared him. With each step he took, a new tail appeared from behind him until there were five of them. “That sounds like a great idea!”

The boy looked at him in horror, trying to rack his brain for any bright ideas to escape. However, it proved fruitless as it was difficult to think when someone was coming to murder you.

He flinched when the kitsune Ace lunged at him, bracing for the pain.

Only for it to never come. He cracked one eye open to see some sort of forcefield that was blocking him from harm. It glowed a bright ruby hue, it was especially prominent around the kitsune’s claws. The expression on his face told him that he was just as confused as he was.

“What the hell are you doing?!” A familiar voice to both of them had cried out from behind.

The two of them turned to see Deuce rushing in with a glare directed at his friend. A pair of navy blue wings on his back, feathers ruffled.

“Deuce?! How did you follow me here?” Ace stared at him, bug-eyed.

“You left the gate open, idiot,” he replied, walking towards him. “Now everyone is coming to find our Master.”

“Tch, just when I thought things couldn’t get worse. I can’t even get rid of this guy.” He jerked his head to his counterpart, still tied up and speechless.

And it was Deuce’s turn to look at him with bulging eyes, appalled by what he had just heard. “You tried to kill him?! How do you think Mari would feel?” He grabbed at his sleeve with a firm grip.

Ace smirked for a moment. “What she won’t know won’t hurt her. I wanted to just take his place,” Then he sighed, eyelids fluttering shut. “But that plan failed immediately.”

Deuce glanced at the other version of his friend. “What do we do with him now?” He asked.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling each and every strand. “I’m gonna need to go back to the dorm before the dorm leader gets angry. Even the Riddle in this universe is real strict. You should watch over him for a bit.”

“What? Ace, I can’t just-”

“The other Deuce is probably still out there, dumbass. If you let yourself get seen by him without some plan, we’re gonna blow our cover.”

Deuce shut his mouth, sighing instead. The kitsune left after his statement, leaving it up to him to watch over his counterpart. He turned to him, wondering what he’s gotten himself into now—

Unaware of the eyes that followed his movements.